The Glory in Gravity

Living by the ocean, I am continually fascinated by the immensity of the sea, the seemingly disconnected set of rules it has in behavior. The waves appear wild and unpredictable, but unseen forces are always at work in them. I feel so small when I scan the horizon and realize that the sunset I see is due in part to the roundness of the earth. And when the moon rises and pulls the water to make tides, I can almost feel the connectedness of our closest satellite.

Which reminds me of Jesus. 

Paul, in his letter to the Colossians, writes these really intriguing words:

And He Himself existed and is before all things, and in Him all things hold together. [His is the controlling, cohesive force of the universe.]  Colossians 1:17 (AMP)

Now, I'm not saying that God is gravity, but it got me thinking; if Jesus is the one by whom all things (not just on this earth, but the whole universe) are held together -- and the word we use to describe the invisible force that holds the people on a planet, and the planets around stars, and the stars in their galaxies, and the galaxies around each other -- even in a universe that's expanding -- is gravity. Then maybe looking at gravity is a way to get to know Jesus a little bit closer.

Take, for example, the vastness of the pull of gravity. I find it hard to wrap my mind around the vast power of Jesus, BUT I can understand the gravitational forces of planets and satellites and it gives me a small glimpse into the one who holds all things together. Thinking of Jesus in this way expands my mind.

I know how difficult it is to pull away from that gravity, what a strain it is on rockets and systems. That establishing an orbit is so much easier because you can depend on the mathematical constant of the pull of gravity to keep you falling at the same rate and, if you align yourself just right, you can stay close without falling in. 

And then I wonder. How hard do I work to fight Jesus, or just keep an orbit around him, instead of surrendering to his constant pull? By seeing the spiritual fight/ drift, my soul is expanded.

Here on earth, I count on our 1G -- Earth's gravitation is its own unit -- to help me navigate and understand the world around me. I can feel going away from the pull of gravity when I climb the hill, and I feel the aid of gravity going back down. But I rarely remark upon it. It just is. I am so accustomed to it. 

What if Jesus' presence is the same way? Could I become more attuned to the times I strain against Jesus' pull, or feel the pleasure of coasting straight toward him? It's easy to ignore, but I think life would be so much richer if I paid attention to the pull of Jesus the same way I can pay attention to the pull of gravity. Being reminded of his presence by the ever-present pull of the earth expands my physical senses.

And while we're talking about the constancy of gravity and Jesus, isn't it remarkable? When I drop an item, and it falls to the floor, you will often hear me say, "Gravity test!" It always works. Never once has gravity failed me. Even in space, far outside the solar system, the gravity of the sun can still reach. 

Jesus has a similar consistency and vast reach. There is no place I can go beyond his pull. Not one test will come up with a failed result. 

Life without gravity could be fun for a moment but is really disorienting. You literally can't know which way is up. Nothing stays in place without tethers and even the simplest movements have unintended consequences. Life without Jesus seems rather similar.  

And there it is, all from that one little idea that Paul writes about Jesus -- the one in whom all things are held together.

Exactly What I (Didn't) Want To Do Today

 Part of my job is to field a lot of strange requests. In a particularly heavy request week, one came in that sounded doable; an older lady needed some stuff taken to the dump and some trimming done. After saying no all morning, I decided to say yes. It was the smallest "yes" I could have said, but at least the whole day would not have been full of "no."

I asked my family (husband, mom and dad) to come and help, because they are wonderful people and that way we could spend our Saturday together. then I spent the next few days hoping it would rain and we wouldn't be able to go. Weather is one of my favorite excuses for not doing things.

Saturday came and the rain was gone. I came with a, "Let's get this over with" mentality. We found piles upon piles of moldy garbage that had never been thrown away. The "light trimming" ranged from whole areas that needed clearing to pruning trees 40 feet in the air (we said "no" to some of that). We got to work. It took longer than I thought, but maybe four hours later, we had done what we said we could do and packed up to leave. 

When we got back in the car, my mom said, "That's exactly what I wanted to do today." 

I was floored. I had spent the last few hours doing a kind thing, but my heart was unengaged. And here was my mom, who I drug into this crazy thing because saying "no" too many times in a row is hard for me, choosing this dirty, smelly work for someone will may never see again, saying that there was nothing more desirable for this day than to be doing what we did. 

Wholeness and Holiness

Sometimes I wear glasses. Without them, my eyes can’t see very far and I often stumble into stuff or trip over things. With my glasses on, I see more clearly, unless my glasses get spattered by mud or rain or any number of other things.
 
Just imagine that you are the glasses, designed for other people to help them see God, someone they could not see without you. They know that with you they can see sharper, more clearly. But you have this nasty habit of attracting dust, grime, spots and scratches, making it harder to see whatever they are looking at.
 
In order to be clean, really clean, you need God’s special solution. It cleans up all the muck, smooths over the rough places, and leaves you sparkling. That’s the process of sanctification, the process of being made holy. God knows how to return you to the original, the created design, and then you can be a useful lens for others to see God. Somehow the process of being made whole and being holy are linked.
 
For God saved us and called us to live a holy life. He did this, not because we deserved it, but because that was his plan from before the beginning of time—to show us his grace through Christ Jesus. 2 Timothy 1:9
 
Are you a clean lens, or has something splattered all over you? Ask God to continue the cleansing process, so that you can be made new and really help people see.

In Pursuit of Perfection

The summer after my first year in college, I joined a group of twenty freshman Christians who wanted to change the world by serving in the inner city. We spent a week sleeping on the floor, serving in homeless kitchens and talking about what Jesus really meant when he said, “Love your neighbor.” We spent a couple hours each evening studying the Sermon on the Mount, talking about how wonderful life would be if we really lived that way. It seemed to be challenging, but totally possible, until we came to this single sentence: “But you are to be perfect, even as your Father in heaven is perfect.” Matthew 5:48. That’s when I realized, this whole thing is simply impossible. I can’t be perfect like God is perfect.
 
It’s not like I haven’t tried to be perfect. I am after all the oldest child and a straight A student and a leader in my high school youth group. I was too “goody goody” for many of my peers. I had reached and reached for perfection, but all that reaching led to stumble after stumble. I could cover it up, but I had failed perfection, and I knew it. It’s not like you get do-overs on perfection. One mistake, one slip and perfection is forever gone. Why would God give such an impossible command?
 
What I learned was that in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus is showing us how the world was designed to be and the fact that we can’t reach it on our own shows us just why we need Jesus.
 
Yet now he has reconciled you to himself through the death of Christ in his physical body. As a result, he has brought you into his own presence, and you are holy and blameless as you stand before him without a single fault. Colossians 1:22
 
Jesus knew that we would strive for perfection and never reach it, so he reached the goal for us, then died and rose again, so that we don’t have to reach anymore. Because of Jesus, God sees us as perfect, without a single fault. Then he shows us piece by piece the world he wants us to recreate and suddenly the impossible is possible.

I am a Pharisee

Confession: I am a pharisee. I love rules, order and being right. Oh, how I love right and wrong. Mostly I love being self righteous, convinced I’ve got it all figured out. Honestly, when I feel all self-righteous and proud, I’ve got it completely wrong. Just like the Pharisees in the Bible, I can get so far from the heart of Jesus that I damage what He is doing in this world. Hear these words from Andy Stanley: “Jesus died at the hands of men who were convinced they were doing the will of God, men who were committed to protecting and defendng the law. Tragically, they protected and defended it to the exclusion of its purpose.” Those words pierce my heart because I am like these men, loving the letter of the law and abandoning the heart of the law giver.
 
But don’t lose hope, because all is not lost for us Pharisees. Take, for example, one of my favorite men from the Bible, Joseph of Arimathea. This guy was a Pharisee, probably saw or heard about (maybe even participated in) the three am interrogation session in which the Sanhedrin declared Jesus a blasphemer and sentenced him to death. At the same time, he was a secret follower of this same Jesus. After Jesus has died, Joseph’s compassion for Jesus overrules his desire to keep to the rules, so he asks for Jesus’ body to give it a proper burial. How strange that this man stands up for Jesus when his disciples have fled, the world condemns, and the enemy thinks he’s won. Joseph the Pharisee carries on the gospel story when the main players leave the stage because his rule-abiding heart recognizes and responds to the heart cry of God. 

That is the core of transformation -- God changing us from the inside out. Switching the character of our hearts. Read his short story in Mark 15:42-47.
 
Jesus changes our whitewashed tombs filled with decay (Matthew 23:28) to empty tombs because he has brought new life! Because of God’s transforming work in me, the Pharisee in me is dying, being replaced by a new humanity: one filled with compassion, seeking the purpose of God and being a willing agent in his movement. I am following the steps of Joseph in unexpected empathy. Where does your heart need to be molded away from rules and toward grace?

The secret to fasting

“No, this is the kind of fasting I want: Free those who are wrongly imprisoned; lighten the burden of those who work for you. Let the oppressed go free, and remove the chains that bind people. Share your food with the hungry, and give shelter to the homeless. Give clothes to those who need them, and do not hide from relatives who need your help. Then your salvation will come like the dawn, and your wounds will quickly heal. Your godliness will lead you forward, and the glory of the LORD will protect you from behind. Then when you call, the LORD will answer. ‘Yes, I am here,’ he will quickly reply.”             Isaiah 58: 6-9
 
So often when we talk about fasting, it is framed in the context of self benefit: I am fasting because I want this answer from God, or to show God that I’m serious about x, or as a spiritual strengthening exercise, ‘cause that’s what serious Christians do. Lately, I’ve become convicted that we’ve got the whole fasting thing wrong. Though it’s quite true that fasting can bring you close to God, or give you clarity to hear his heart, fasting should never be selfish. These verses in Isaiah state clearly that the kind of fasting that pleases God is the one in which we sacrifice to benefit another.
 
This doesn’t just apply to fasting, but to any kind of sacrifice. If your sacrifice doesn’t directly benefit another human being, what good is it? Jesus’ sacrificed on my behalf, not just to earn God points. So why do I think just about me when I am considering a sacrifice? I think about only what I will lose, or what I will gain. What would change in me if I saw you in my choice to sacrifice?
 
What if I gave up a meal and gave the money I would have spent to the Christian Aid Center? What if I sacrificed my day off to visit the sick, or pray with a friend? What if I could see sacrifice in its true context, giving up myself for love of another?
 
I think that is the kind of people God wants to make in this world: people that see each other as more important than themselves, who understand that they will have everything they need as they pour out themselves for their neighbors, family, and community. That when we stop taking care of ourselves first, the whole world opens up to beauty and light and healing.
I want to live in that world.

The Value of Relationship

A couple weeks ago, I attended my husband’s grandmother’s memorial service. What struck me as I listened to people share stories about her life was that though her accomplishments and passions were mentioned, what really stood out in so many memories was the way that she cared about people, the treasured relationships that she developed that lasted for so many years, and the way that she invested herself in others. So much of my life is spent in accomplishing good things, but I am beginning to discover that accomplishing good things means very little if no relationship is being developed. Tasks will come and go (some of them just hit the repeat button for our whole lives), but relationship endures, even beyond the grave.
 
Jesus shows us this principle in his interactions. How many times did Jesus address the relationship before he addressed the pain? Think of the woman about to be stoned. Jesus said first, “I do not condemn you,” then “sin no more” (John 8). What about the man who was lowered into the house by friends. His first response is “Son, your sins are forgiven.” (Mark 2:5). He doesn’t even care about the circumstances of the guy’s disease, the things they want him to do for this man, he cuts straight to the most important thing: this man’s sin, the barrier in his relationship to God.
 
Often in our lives, it takes pain for us to come to God, and when we do, what we think we really want is for the pain to go away. But Jesus sees deeper into us and fixes first the thing we need most, our primary relationship with Him. Lent is the perfect time to reflect on what is holding up my relationship with God. Is there some barrier in the way? Because nothing else will go right if this foundational relationship is damaged. Spend some time today praying and examining what things are standing in the way of a deep, open, vibrant relationship with God. Then ask Jesus to clean those things away.

Redeemer

God does amazing work redeeming us, and it is good to be grateful. If that were the end of the story, it would be amazing, wonderful, and enough. But that’s not enough for God. He wants more. He wants you to become a redeemer like Him. He extends the same offer to you and me that He first made to his disciples, “Follow me and I will make you fishers of men.” Matthew 4:19.
 
God invites us into partnership with Him, allowing us to use the story of our redemption to reach others who haven’t yet heard or understood God’s incredible offer. It’s not that God needs us, but he desires our partnership. He knows that we are our best selves when we have a cause bigger than us that can only be accomplished when we are dependent on Him and still actively striving to reach. Have you ever really stopped to think about it?
 
God wants you. Just for you, but not just for you. God wants you to be instrumental in redeeming others. The story doesn’t end with your rescue, but continues as you learn how to be a rescuer. With your everyday words and actions, you can be a redeemer, a restorer of humanity, as God intended it to be. 
 
So redemption is not a singular event, but an ongoing process in you and through you, spreading to others until it’s spread all over the world. Turning bondage to freedom, darkness to light, sorrow to joy. Now who wouldn’t want to be part of that?

At the age of 23, my body stopped working properly. For some reason my knees were full of pain and it was everything I could do to stand. For years I sought answers and relief from the constant pain. I prayed and prayed for healing and I fought to continue with normal life, in spite of the torment each step produced. I wrestled with God and asked all those deep “Why” questions.
 
Then one day God taught me a new way to pray. He guided me to pray not for healing, but to just give the whole situation to him. To learn to live with this pain, at this point held at bay with some pretty powerful (and expensive) drugs. And to be thankful for it. I will admit that I was reluctant to be thankful for some random disease that would affect me all my life. But I tried. I looked at what God had taught me through this process. I saw how much closer I was walking with Jesus because walking on my own meant pain. Slowly, my mind and heart changed, so that I saw this pain as a gift from God.
 
And that’s when God went to work. He lessened the pain more and more over a period of years. I stopped the drugs and now the only pain from this disease exists in my memory. I am grateful beyond words, but not just for healing. Rather I am grateful for the whole process. I am grateful for the fire of refinement - for the unique and counter intuitive way that God uses to take the awful stuff on earth and turn it into freedom and light and glory.
 
Am I saying that all you have to do is give your pain to God and it will be healed? No, but I do know that without giving whatever it is to God’s control, you will never have a chance of seeing Him use it in whatever way He wants to.
 
And that’s the beauty of God’s redemption. He is such a gentle God that he will not take our pain. He will wait for us to give it to Him. But when we do, he will change it into something beautiful and pure. You see, God will only redeem what we give to him. What do you need to turn in to God, for Him to redeem?

Love Your Neighbor

The "For Sale" sign went up next door and I began to dream. We'd never seen the people who had lived in that house, or maybe they didn't live there much, just used it occasionally. But soon we would have new neighbors and that meant new possibilities. I've always wanted to know my neighbors, but previous experience had made me gun shy (language barriers, party lifestyles, constant transition -- all made me question if it was really worth it).

But it was worth a try. The new neighbors were very nice and seemed to want to be friends. They already knew more about the people around them then I did and I've lived here for three years already. They wanted to exchange pet care, and know our family and although we had some differences, we also had a lot going for us.

Then came the discussion of the land. It seems that their deed measured out their plot very differently from the way it currently was parsed out, namely that they owned another 5-10 feet that currently was fenced as part of our property. That fence had been there a while and had been used as a garden by the previous owner of our house and was one of the beautiful things that drew me to the property. Room for a veggie garden of my own. Truth be told, I had spent more time in that part of my yard than any other. We moved raised beds from our previous home to that area, planted corn and tomatoes, and lettuce to feed our family. That land wasn't just sitting around being neglected, it was the land where we worked and produced and we felt heartbroken that they wanted it, that they would take it by force if necessary. Suddenly the best relationship we had going with our neighbors had turned sour and we had done nothing to offend other than work land we believed was ours.

First, we were offended. Why would they want to create all this work and heartache for us, when they couldn't possibly use the land as well as we were? Why do they want to destroy our garden? Every conversation that started with the goal of compromise led in the direction of antagonism. It got to the point where I knew I needed to talk with them, was trying to do the right thing, but I just couldn't breathe. It hurt too much and was too dangerous. Next, we decided to fight. Everyone we talked with was righteously indignant at the effrontery of these people and we should get a lawyer and battle it out in the courts. Not one person I talked to believed that we should give it up. In trying to be "helpful" they built up our resolve to fight, convinced that we were in the right. And it felt so powerful to be the wronged party, to know that we were the victims here and that it should be put to rights in the court of law where such things are made perfect.

But it also felt awful. If they only knew what good, kind people we are, they would never ask such a thing of us. If they knew how we served the poor, loved people around us, surely they would give up. But then I realized that they didn't see what good people we were because we weren't being very good to them. We delayed, we ignored, we heard their case and didn't even bother to respond with any love or compassion for their needs, what they considered their right. How in the world would they see our goodness if we weren't willing to show it to them?

And then I started looking in the Bible, to see if God wanted to say anything about this. He usually does, I just don't go asking for several months, while I weigh in with every family member, church friend, lawyer friend I could think of first. And right there in the law, where God is using Moses to teach about fairness and justice (the two things I claimed I wanted in this whole situation) is this verse, "When you arrive in the land the Lord your God is giving you as your special possession, you must never steal anyone’s land by moving the boundary markers your ancestors set up to mark their property." Deuteronomy 19:14.

So here's the deal. When the land was divided up and handed out a hundred years ago, that part of the land belonged to them, not us. Someone, no one will ever know who, moved the boundary marker by building a fence. It was a wrong, not committed by us, but we benefitted from the crime. The right, the fair, the good thing to do was to give it back graciously. But I just didn't want to.

Which is why God wrote this in chapter 27. "‘Cursed is anyone who steals property from a neighbor by moving a boundary marker.’ And all the people will reply, ‘Amen.’" Now I am cursed if I continue to fight this change? And all God's people who agreed with me before should be cursing me for taking what belongs to someone else. That's because sometimes American law is different from God's law. I had to decide whose law I wanted to live under.

 It was shortly after this that things came to a head with the neighbors. We had tentatively agreed that when the spring came, we would go about removing the plants that we cared about and allow the neighbors to take over. It was April and we had done nothing and said nothing. So in frustration in our delays, the neighbor cut down the raspberries that we had wanted to save. I arrived home one day to find them piled in a heap of debris and I cried. That was it. We HAD to make this work. We needed to give up fighting a losing battle and start to be gracious.

Within a week, we met with the neighbors. We explained our emotions and our grief and also how daunting it was for us to have to re do all this work of laying out the garden. We had a plan to move things and we just needed some patience and some communication from them. We decided not to fight and finally repaired the relationship. And it worked. It was lots of hours of digging and pulling grass and learning irrigation, but we have a bigger garden in a different place. The neighbors even bought us a gift card to help cover the expense of moving things and installing new water lines. We talked about how we were progressing, let them know when the new fence sections could be built. We learned more about them and their lives in that month than in the previous ten months. And it finally felt right, not strained. And I could breathe again.

When I think about the phrase, "love your neighbor" I think of friendly chats and can I borrow some flour and summer cookouts with smiling faces. I don't think of tearing down my hard work and sacrificing for the sake of another. Which is ridiculous, because love always involves sacrifice. It is putting the desires of another, a stranger, above your own and making that stranger family. It is heartache and struggle and pain and vulnerability. It is scary and dangerous and world changing. And it is also good and right and true and just like what Jesus did for me.

Holding on to Hope

I've been thinking about hope lately, job searches will do that to you, and I realize that hope is one of those vague, mysterious words that means different things to different people, gets thrown away lots and can be easily misinterpreted.

Imagine a mountain climb. Rough terrain where you've never been before. You cannot see the way ahead of you. There are boulders in the way and you feel like giving up. Just at that moment you see a rope, a rope that will help you get over the tight spot you are currently in. That rope is hope (I know it rhymes and I'm sorry about that, but I don't have another word that works). Grabbing onto the rope will help you get to the next part of the journey. Some ropes are short and are designed to help you up a small cliff. Other ropes are longer, to guide you along dangerous ice, to lead you away from treacherous chasms.

My husband thinks that one rope is all you'll need. One sturdy line from the bottom to the top. But mountains don't always work that way. Life never works that way. The problem with that view is that when you see the end of a rope, you think that it must have been the wrong rope, because it couldn't last. Or that maybe that rope was for somebody else, not for you. Instead, take that rope, use it to get somewhere new, then look for the next one.

Following Jesus is often described as finding hope. Often times that causes confusion. If Jesus is one of these ropes, what happens when it ends? Does Jesus have limits? Does he change direction? For me, Jesus is the rope layer. He has traveled this path before me, knows where the difficult spots are and provides a way to help me through. I know that the next rope is just around the bend, even if I can't see it, because I know the one who sets the ropes in place, who made the path just for me. That's hope.

A Holy Experience

Last week I was riding my bike, downhill, so it's not work. The sun was out and warm and the day was beautiful with the promise of spring. My friends and I were just talking about how God is present, all day everywhere, and the only limitation to my interaction with God is myself: my awareness, my thoughts, my intention.

I thought, "How often am I really paying attention to God's movement in my little meverse?" (That's the universe, centered around and interacting with me. I know it's not a thing, but admit it, we all have a meverse.) Sure, I see amazing beautiful things and sometimes I will stop, for a second, and thank God. In pain and crisis I cry out to God. Sometimes, when something really silly or poignant happens, I look up and say, "God, I see what you did there." We have that kind of relationship, where I point out to him the great laugh that we are about to share. But those are momentary, fleeting snippets of my day. What I really want is what Jesus called abiding -- consciously resting in and being fully aware of God in everything, every day.

Which brings me back to the bike. I was sitting there, just marveling at how perfect it was: the wind in my hair, the trees and flowers, and I thought, "This is a holy experience." And then I wondered about the word holy. Here I am a week later, still thinking about that word -- holy.

So I looked it up in the dictionary. You know, sometimes the dictionary is no help at all. All the dictionary gives is references to stuff dedicated for a religious purpose or to God. The dictionary knows that holiness has something to do with God, but has no clue what that is. I know that one of God's characteristics is holiness, that His goal for my life is holiness, but what is it??

I think holiness may be that door in our minds that we open to be aware of God. Think about it for a minute.  A holy place is one where we experienced God  (or someone else did generations ago). A holy experience is one in which we (for lack of a better word) "feel" God's presence. The whole key to holiness is awareness and recognition of God -- his character, his presence, his activity.

Which means that holiness is not just a mystery -- though there is plenty of mystery in the whole thing, but it's also something I can grow. Want a holy job? Choose to open the door in your mind to God while you work. Talk over tasks with Him, ask for wisdom in making decisions, or dealing with that co worker, or staying on task. Want a holy family? Choose to open your mind to including God as part of your family. Give Him a seat at the table, literally or figuratively. Go on walks to the park with Him and show Him your favorite parts of His creation. Want a holy experience?
Conscientiously choose to be aware of God.

Now, I'm not saying that this is as simple as flipping on a switch. It's more like exercising a muscle. The more you do it, the easier it becomes. Here's a simple start. David says in a poem he wrote that, "The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands." So start there, in nature. It's a common place that religious (and non-religious people for that matter) find holiness. Look at the skies and try to see beyond them as you consider the vastness of God. Examine a flower and know the intricacies of God. Observe a sunset and marvel at the artistry of God. Watch a bug fly and think about the creativity and engineering mind of God. Make it a game -- what do I see about God from what I observe in nature. 

Warning -- not everything in nature is representative of God. Remember that sin has messed things up pretty good, in humanity more than anything else. Start with what you know about God and work from there. If you don't know much about God, read about Him in the Bible -- maybe start in the Psalms. There's lots of emotions and relating to God in those. Or look at Jesus. God with skin on.

One last thought. As I look at nature I see lots of paradoxes -- opposites that are both true. Great scope and vastness, intricate detail and minute planning, creativity and order, joy in pain, and I think that's also a characteristic of God. God embraces the paradox: death to create life, spilled blood that cleanses. And when we embrace the paradox too, we can see God in a clearer way.

I don't mean to make God merely human, as we give Him traits and characteristics that we can identify with. Actually, in this process, God is making us more human. More like he designed us to be. In tune with Him and the world He put us in. In a word, holy.
   

Garbage

I was out walking with my friend today. As we caught up on each other's lives, she told me that she sensed change coming, but she didn't know what and she didn't know how, and she most certainly didn't know when. A word from God, a desire from her heart, a change in location, a change in vocation, all these rumblings of something bigger on the horizon-- a fuzzy horizon. Full of promise and sparkle, but oh, so tricky to make out the details.

As we walked along, I noticed a discarded water bottle, laying in the grass. I thought to myself that I should pick it up. I wasn't there to clean up garbage, and there was no nearby container to place it in. I told myself that later I would come back for the bottle. We walked on, talking of choices, of leaving doors open and taking steps forward, even if you don't know where forward is exactly.

Another empty water bottle appeared in our path. This one I picked up. I can hold one water bottle while I walk. I don't want to be a garbage lady, hands overfull with the discarded refuse of the neighborhood, but I can take care of this one small thing. Do my part, so to speak, in the care of creation.

We'd been walking through the park a while, I thought we'd seen most everything. But just a moment later I saw, under the bridge, an abandoned plastic bag. When I saw the bag, everything just made sense. It's as if God set the first bottle in my path to start me thinking. Put the second one nearby to see if I would act. Once I did, God knew that I could take His hint. He put the bag in the stream and said, "Do this for me today."

So I did.

Together we delighted in the discovery of the bag (who does that, really?). My friend pointed out the first bottle we had seen and added it to the bag. We found a wrapper, a broken ring, a couple other little bits. It felt good to do something to help make the place beautiful. It was nice to see how it all came together. At the end of our walk, I took it to the trash can. No big deal.

Except it was a big deal. It is a metaphor for the very thing we were talking about. Often in life's path, God will place a little something in your path. It may or it may not change anything. But it may be a hint of what's to come. A little later you will find a similarity, maybe something small that spurs you to action.

I think God is continually hinting at us what our lives could be like if we could just see what's right in front of us. Instead of being so focused on the big picture (What career should I pursue? Who should I marry? Where should I live? How do I become famous?) what if we just looked at what's around us and took action when we notice a pattern? Embracing those patterns are the building blocks of our lives: our passions, our dreams, our attempts to make the world a better place.

And when the time is right, God will give us the bag, the piece that holds it all together. We can look back and say, "Oh, God this life is beautiful, but I don't know how I got here." And He will say, "You just followed me, step by step and this beauty is the result."

Missed the Boat

Here it comes, tall and beautiful and romantic. The boat that promises an adventure of a lifetime. Smelling of exotic spices and warm breezes. The travelers on this boat show joy for the journey they are on, almost inviting you to join them just by their enthusiasm and contentment.


Do you even wonder if you should have climbed aboard? Let go of the fear of the unknown, the safety of the shore, the predictability of life on land? Would you be a different person? Lived in another place? Had different priorities?


Not that all boats are what they seem. Though you may think you know the destination, sailors get lost at sea. Weather can mean a detour, even an alternate end point. If you do ultimately arrive, the storms along the route can leave you feeling worn, washed up, adrift. You could get sea sick, sunburnt, or harmed by the dangers of the sea.


So why go at all?


Watching life from the shore is beautiful. The waves crash against the shore, but never overwhelm you. Boats come and boats go -- some boats you've seen more than once. They will come again. Maybe when you're ready, you can go. Maybe when you've got more money, more time, more courage.


Maybe. . .


Maybe that boat is stopping here today, just to have you aboard. Maybe the people you will meet, or the experience you have on this particular trip will give you the passion you've always wanted in life. Maybe you just need a change of pace, space and perspective that can only come from the boat. Maybe all that trouble is worth it.


So how do you choose?


When the boat arrives, all is anticipation, newness, adventure. the boat's looks can be deceiving. When the boat leaves you behind, you feel, if just for a moment, regret that you are not aboard. Discernment is knowing which boat to get on and when, and how to let the boat pass you by without despair.

One day as Jesus was walking along the shore of the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers—Simon, also called Peter, and Andrew—throwing a net into the water, for they fished for a living.  Jesus called out to them, “Come, follow me, and I will show you how to fish for people!”  And they left their nets at once and followed him.

A little farther up the shore he saw two other brothers, James and John, sitting in a boat with their father, Zebedee, repairing their nets. And he called them to come, too.  They immediately followed him, leaving the boat and their father behind.                                             Matthew 4: 18-21

Church like a stream

A dear friend of mine is hearing God's mysterious voice, telling her to move to a new country and start a new thing. A few weeks back, another friend heard God's voice, moving him to a new place. In my heart, a wave of joy and sorrow -- joy will win. I know this because we, as a church family, are moving again. And when a church moves, so do her people.

Church should be like a stream -- water flows in the same direction, moving at different speeds, but all chasing the same destination. Creeks wind their way into the current and it pushes the water places the water never even imagined it could go. Sometimes a rock, tree or branch will send water on a different path, headed the same direction, but not traveling together. And then there is the noise of the stream -- babbling, full of life and joy and peace and hope.

You see, for a long time I was in a church that felt more like a pond than a stream. The difference is small but profound. Water moves in a pond, just slowly. Discussions around church always felt like building a dam, trying to stop the flow of movement. "How do we close the back door?" "How can we bring more people in?"  Good questions, but if there's no outflow, momentum slows, and we start to deposit our dirt. Algae starts to grow and the whole thing becomes stagnant. Then it starts to smell, really smell. The more and more we'd try to hold in, the more we kept finding leaks in ourselves, in the dam we built, until one day the whole thing just broke apart.

It's hard to come from the quiet pond and move to a babbling stream. Momentum is tricky, and makes a mess sometimes. It's loud and rushing and unfriendly -- it carries you along to places you may not want to go. But it makes the water clear and fresh and nourishing to people who are thirsty. So come join the stream, for a minute or for a lifetime. It's no longer my job to keep you swimming, just trust the One who is leading us to the ocean.

Cell Phone Pharisee

More and more lately, my big secret is coming out.

"Why don't you have a cell phone?"

"How can you manage?"

My reasons for not carrying a mobile device are many and varied. Here are a few I've said lately:

•  because I don't want to be available to people all the time
•  because I know my addictive nature and it's just easier to not have the temptation
•  because I choose to spend money on other things

As these conversations keep coming, I am finding a different, deeper reason. One that I must confess. I LIKE not giving in to the current culture that demands I instantly return texts, calls, beeps. It allows me to pretend that I'm morally superior to you. I can roll my eyes when you check a text cause "it might be important." I can snigger at the lady in the awards ceremony rooting through her purse because it's decided to play a symphony all on its own. I can laugh about the friend who answers the phone IN THE SHOWER, knowing that I will never be like that.

You see, in my eyes, cell phones have become a great evil in society. And I stand pure, unadulterated by the insidious, omnipresent portal to all things. I read articles and stories that back up my skewed view. Cell phones cause cancer, addict preschoolers, change our thought patterns so we cannot focus on one thing, make walking zombies out of pedestrians, and so on. I knew all along that they were trouble and I will stand against the overwhelming masses -- a pure, focused, productive member of society.

Only I'm not. I have become a Pharisee. I use my choice to not use a perfectly normal tool to make myself seem holier, closer to God and others, just because I don't give in. And other people help me distance myself when they say, "You must really trust your husband if you're not going to check on him while you're away."  "You are so strong. It must be very hard."

I don't need a cell phone to tune you out while we're supposed to be talking. I want you to wait for my time to return that call/ message/ whatever cause I want to control the situation. Oh, and I want you to know that I'm too important of a person to drop whatever it is I'm doing (probably nothing) to respond to you. From the outside I look strong, independent, and holy, but it's all a façade.

And I'm sorry. I'm sorry for considering you dependent, or less of a person because you have a cell phone.  I'm sorry for thinking that you don't trust your husband with your kids because you call to connect. I'm sorry for the anger that bubbles up in me when we are having a conversation and you look at your phone instead of being constantly riveted by my eyes and words. I'm sorry for this barrier in the way I think of you, or look at you.

I would love for you to look at me and not see some backward thinking, suspicious holdout. And I will try to no longer judge you. I will treat you as a real friend, who makes different choices than me because we live different lives. Unless we're stuck on the side of the road, with no where to turn. Then I will be grateful for your cell phone.

2012 Advent Readings

I wrote these for our weekly advent readings at Blue Mountain Community Church. I wanted to share them with you.

 Prophesy – Week 1

Like a child waiting for Daddy to come home, or a pregnant woman ready to meet her child, a time of waiting is most marked by the arrival of what we have been waiting for. The time can be frustrating, agonizing or distracting. However, this time can also be exciting, filled with possibility and wonder, and a building sense of joy. How do you choose to wait?

Since the beginning of time, generations have waited for the coming of the promised one. The delight of God’s promise of freedom from sin, of a reunion with Him, were worth waiting for. But how long would He be? Thousands of years pass with no promised one, then God seems to be silent. Could He have forgotten his promise?  Sometimes, in the darkest of winter, hope is the only thing we have to know that spring is coming. And come he did, though not in the way that most people expected. Many people from all over the world were watching and waiting and yet when Jesus came, few took notice.

For thirty-three short years the wait was over and the Promised one came to earth and did what God promised he would do. He leaves us with another promise, “I will come again.” And so we return to waiting. Another couple thousand years of waiting. Perhaps there is something in the waiting: something that teaches us to hold on to hope and promise, that encourages us to always be preparing for the fulfillment of our longing, to keep us from thinking we have arrived and settle into complacency. Perhaps this waiting is core to the very nature of Christ- followers, of Messiah seekers.

So another winter has come and before you break into celebrating, pause and remember that the best celebration is yet to come. Embrace the wait and prepare your heart to see Christ as you’ve never seen Him before.

 

Peace – Week 2

There is nothing quite like the sound of snow falling. It makes no noise at all and yet, it has a palpable presence. When the snow begins to fall, it seems as though all the world stops. Plans change, people look up at the sky or settle in to something warm. If there’s enough snow, an unplanned holiday takes place. Schools and businesses close and a whole new world of possibilities open up. Suddenly our schedules cease their clamor and we can simply be.

It’s those moments when we are quiet, when we simply are, that God speaks. Or maybe it’s then that we can really hear him. As with the shepherds on the hillside, our encounters with God can forever change us: our perspectives, our desires, our priorities. One of his gifts in these encounters is the gift of peace. Not an absence of striving kind of peace, though that may be true, but this peace is a fullness of purpose, a sense that things are as they should be. A peace that settles in, just like a snowflake on a field.   

In our culture, quietness and peace are a rare commodity, a luxury few can afford, a short term reward for completion of a major undertaking. What if the truth is that peace is a necessary foundation, an integral part of what makes us human and a more fitting home base than busyness? What if peace was at the core of who you were this Christmas, instead of an exhausted afterthought? What would be different? What would stay the same?

Let’s approach this Christmas with the peace that God intends for us. Yes, there are presents to buy and wrap, cookies to bake and relationships to invest in. Those things can still happen, but the focus can change if you let God’s peace settle in and “be” Christmas instead of “doing” Christmas.

 

Joy – Week 3

Is there anything more beautiful than seeing the joy on a loved one’s face when we give them the perfect gift? Something that they have desired for a long time, yet could never have bought for themselves. Made more precious by the fact that this treasured item is now connected to a valued relationship.

Can you imagine the excitement God had in making his plans to send his Son? It is the perfect gift. Just what we needed and something we could never have even thought to ask, it cost so much. We could never have got it on our own. Made more precious because it gives us a relationship with God that we could never have without this gift.  Imagine His delight as you opened his gift and realized that it is just for you.

Better yet, as much as this gift is designed specifically for you, it is equally designed for the person next to you: your neighbor, your family, your friend. And God asks you to share it with them. You can keep it and give it at the same time. You can share God’s joy as you see others receive the gift.

And yet, how much of your life shows this joy, gratefulness for this perfect gift? Smack in the middle of the busy Christmas season, would those who looked at your life be able to see joy?

That’s what the angel was talking about when he said in Luke 2:10, “I bring you good news that will bring great joy to all people.” This joy is radiant, life changing, bursting delight that comes from God, through you, to others. This joy is uncontainable, unexplainable, unbidden. It is the joy that started with one Christmas night, in a manger in Bethlehem. Gifted first to a husband and wife, then a strange mix of kings and shepherds, eventually a loose group of followers and finally the whole world.

 

Week 4 – Love

The heart of Christmas is love. A.W. Tozer once said, “I can no more do justice to this awesome and wonder-filled topic than a child can grasp a star. Still, by reaching toward the star the child may call attention to it and even indicate the direction one must look to see it. And so, I stretch my heart toward the high, shining love of God so that we may be encouraged to look up and have hope.”

God’s love is amazing, unconditional, transforming, sacrificial, humbling, uplifting and more. How does one even begin to describe it? It is offered, even to those who reject it over and over. It is abiding, even when circumstances overwhelm and sadness lingers. It is always choosing the best for us, even if that best is hard or unfamiliar. It is unending, unquenchable, celebratory and solemn. And it reveals itself just when we need it most.

Human love is often self seeking, emotion driven, changeable as the wind. How comforting to know that God’s love is not like ours. But God’s love could be ours, if we learned from him how to really love our world.

Imagine how it could be if each of us took the people around us and loved them like God does. How could we influence our neighborhoods, our families, our schools, our friends if we saw each situation through God’s love and used that as our guide. How would your relationships be different? How would you spend your time?

And that may be the biggest miracle of Christmas: that God, through Jesus, showed us how to love our world and re- create it to be as he first imagined it. That his love through us would change hearts and minds and actions, propelling us to be kinder, more compassionate, more accurate reflections of Christ. And as we explore that love, we call others’ attention to it, as a child grasps for a star.

 

 

Christ Candle – Christmas Eve

He came. In fulfillment of the promise and in honor of the waiting generations he came. In response to the obedience of teenagers he came. To the lowliest of places he came. During political occupation he came. Heralded by angels and shepherds, not kings or emperors, he came. From perfection and beauty and light and love to brokenness and horror and darkness and hate, he still came.

And it changed everything.

Because he came, we can know God. Because he came, we have peace. Because he came, we are free. Because he came, we have purpose.

Jesus’ coming shows us how humanity was meant to be, how we could be if we trusted and believed God. He shows us how God wants to interact with the world: intimately, individually, personally. Jesus’ coming not only tells us of a better day coming, but also includes the possibility that today could be a better day.

Christ is our model, our teacher and our hope. He is God as well as being the fulfillment of humanity. He is the first one among us, yet he valued the least ones. He is the cornerstone of our faith, the rock on which we stand.

Because of Christ, we have Christmas.

Remembering Grandma

I Will Rise
by Chris Tomlin

There's a peace I've come to know

Though my heart and flesh may fail

There's an anchor for my soul

I can say "It is well"

 

Jesus has overcome
And the grave is overwhelmed
The victory is won
He is risen from the dead

And I will rise when He calls my name

No more sorrow, no more pain
I will rise on eagles' wings
Before my God fall on my knees
And rise
I will rise

There's a day that's drawing near

When this darkness breaks to light
And the shadows disappear
And my faith shall be my eyes

Jesus has overcome

And the grave is overwhelmed
The victory is won
He is risen from the dead

And I will rise when He calls my name

No more sorrow, no more pain
I will rise on eagles' wings
Before my God fall on my knees
And rise
I will rise

And I hear the voice of many angels sing,

"Worthy is the Lamb"
And I hear the cry of every longing heart,
"Worthy is the Lamb"
And I hear the voice of many angels sing,
"Worthy is the Lamb"
And I hear the cry of every longing heart,
"Worthy is the Lamb"

 

This song came to me as I was walking the other day and it reminded me of my Great Grandma Myrtle whjo went to be with Jesus last week. It reminded me of the truths of scripture that for my grandma, the day has come, pain is gone and she has risen to be with Jesus. Even though my heart and eyes will miss her, I can say, “It is well.” Great Grandma Myrtle lived her life well and fully. She completed her mission here and left quite an amazing legacy.

 I remember two special things about Grandma Myrtle that I wanted to share with you. As a young teen, I spend much of one summer in Happy Camp with the grandparents. One week Grandma Myrtle and I taught VBS together; A 12 year old and a woman in her mid seventies teaching 9 and 10 year olds. This taught me that God can use anyone at any age to share his love. For the first time, I felt like a leader and a teacher and that is a major part of who I am today. Grandma was not disappointed by my lack of experience or my youth. She saw it and me as a great asset, a valuable partner and modeled for me leadership, compassion and dedication.

The second memory that sticks with me even now is of the day my husband and I got engaged. It just so happened that Grandma Myrtle was staying with us and was one of the first people to know. She was so excited for us and blessed us with her words and her support. And that’s just the kind of person she was; incredibly supportive, always encouraging, seeing and rejoicing in the best life had to offer.  I only hope that I can do as well.

Beauty for Ashes

Isaiah 61:3 New Living Translation (NLT)

³ To all who mourn in Israel,
    he will give a crown of beauty for ashes,
a joyous blessing instead of mourning,
festive praise instead of despair.
In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks
that the Lord has planted for his own glory.

I always read this verse and thought, “What a beautiful figure of speech. God takes the broken, destroyed things in my life and can make them beautiful.” What I didn’t know is that God does it physically too. Last week, a huge ash cloud settled over our valley, ash drifted through the air, in what moviemakers show to be the end of the world. It swirled around and collected on cars, railings, sidewalks. My family felt it with every breath – headaches and weariness consumed us. Our world was grey and dim and felt so heavy. My eyes burned from just being open and I was quite prone to tears – not that that’s a big stretch normally, but I could feel the difference. In the midst of this gross depressing atmosphere, my child said it best,” Wow, the sun is so amazing. I can look directly at it and it’s so beautiful!” And it was. A glorious orange ball in the day.  Awe inspiring pinks and purples as it set. I could see the outline of the sun and, for a few seconds, look it straight in the face. What a wonderful illustration of God.

When we are in the midst of ash, our world grey and we can hardly breathe, God is there – visible in a way that is unique and beautiful. Does it make the ash go away? No, but this magnificence is only possible because of the combination of ash and God, of destruction and light. This is true in my life. I never see God so clearly as when I am coming through trouble. And I think God knows this, cause he made me this way. He lets the wreck happen until we come to him. Then he says, “Now watch and see what I will do.” So we watch, look God in the face and see him as we’ve never seen him before. It gives us hope and joy and an overwhelming appreciation and love. We see the beauty that comes from the ash.

And that’s, I think, part of the answer to why God allows suffering in the world – in innocent lives and unexpected places – so that he can show us how he can redeem even the most horrifying of events, how ash becomes beautiful.

This story happened almost nine years ago.  I was just finishing up my final year in college.  Nick and I had been married only a few short months, but we had plans.  I was to take a year off of school, then go back to get my masters and begin a teaching career.  It was a beautiful plan for my life. 

Only one problem: I might be pregnant.  It was possible, but not likely.  I remember worrying about the possibility one Sunday morning, when I heard God speak to me.  Only a few times in my life have I actually audibly heard the voice of God.  This was one of those times.  What He said was, “It will be okay.  I will take care of you.” So naturally I believed this meant that I was not pregnant.  It threw off my whole life plan to be pregnant now.  Surely God knew that.

Do you ever take the words God says and twist them to mean what you want them to?  I was pregnant, I discovered to my shock a few weeks later.  Now you have to know that we had no way to provide for this child.  Nick has just left a terrible job situation and was looking for employment.  I had just graduated and was working at a retail store as a temporary thing.  We had planned to move back closer to our families after a year.  How could we continue to live this way when we were going to be responsible for another human life?

But I remembered the words of God “It will be okay.  I will take care of you.”  Piece by piece, things started falling into place.  Nick got a job, our church family supported us as well, if not better than our biological family.  Although it was a new plan, I recognized that it was God’s plan and relinquished my own timetable. 

At 8 months, my child stopped growing and the doctor became concerned.  Something was wrong and we went through several tests to find the problem.  For some reason, her intestines hadn’t fully developed and the chance that she would need surgery right after birth was high.  I was terrified.  God had told me that everything would be okay.  I changed my stubborn heart and rejoiced in this child, this gift from God that just might be taken away.  What was God playing at?

36 hours after our Kaeldra was born, she began to throw up everything she had eaten.  Our worst fears were confirmed.  We would have to fly her to Spokane for surgery.  I was, as you can imagine, a complete mess:  seeing my daughter in the incubator bed, knowing that her life was in jeopardy and that there was nothing I could do about it.  My family came to support us during this time and the church rallied and prayed.  But nothing changes that moment when you’re all alone with this helpless child, facing the thought of losing her just after you’ve met her.  You ask God why, not an angry why or a justified why or even a self righteous why.  This is the honest confused cry of a human to her maker because she cannot see around the corner.  But God had promised me that it would be okay.  This was not in my definition of okay, but it was in God’s.

Since many of you know Kaeldra, you know that this story has a happy ending, though not all stories do.  She is well and healthy and a blessing to my life.  Because of her, we stayed here in Walla Walla and I have found a calling and a passion that was never part of my original plans.  Two years after her birth, I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis – another story for another time.  But I know that God gave me my child at the healthiest time in my life when I could have a baby without severe pain.  That was a gift that I didn’t know I needed.  My greatest crisis produced a new grateful time in my life and I know that I am no longer the person I was.

I don’t know where you are in life, but I guarantee that there will be a time when your back is against the wall; when you find yourself in dangerous circumstances not necessarily of your own making.  At that time I want you to know that God’s promises never fail.   He may speak a word to you, or you may read it in the fabulous promises of the Bible.  But either way, that promise is just for you and is the strength you will need to stand through the storm.  God knows what He is doing, even and especially when it looks like all hope is lost.  Trust who God is and His care for you and He will carry you through.  I don’t know the answer to the question why, but I do know that God will be there with me, and use who he’s made me to be for his good and his glory.  Somehow that makes the why not so important. 

That’s how you can bloom where you’re planted.  You see, for a seed, the planting process is traumatic.  You are buried underground, unable to see the light of day.  Then you get drowned, drowned so much that you begin to break apart.  You are dying.  You die completely and form your death new life sprouts forth.  This new life grows and grows and looks completely different than the seed, though they both share the same DNA.  But a seed is just a seed, full of unrealized potential.  A living plant is realizing its true potential and producing fruit – fruit that nourishes others.  It also produces more seeds. 

This is a concept Jesus taught with his life.  He died to bring us a new kind of life, so we can grow into the kind of people God had in mind in the Garden of Eden. People who die to their seeds, and sprout up with his life, bearing fruit and new seeds, until soon you have a whole garden of blooming, living, nourishing people.