A Thought on Christmas Eve

All of us are in a fight for joy. For life. For relationship in community. All of us long to see the Father's face more clearly.

Cancer makes the need and longing for these things more urgent.

A Moment to Enthuse

These are two very special ladies in our lives. Nora, on the left, and her older sister, Addie.

Until you have a grandchild, its pretty difficult to make you understand the relationship that develops. Its beyond pride and joy. Its beyond pleasure and enjoyment. Its way better than chocolate and reading. Way better.

When Nora sees me she smiles so wide you can see all of her pretty teeth (there are 4 of them right now). Addie likes to call me Non (rhymes with phone), and pretty much has the best ideas for what to do when we play. When I was a young mom, I felt I needed to juggle chores with playtime. Not as a grandparent. I get to sit down on their level and be with them for however long they like, and play as long as their mom lets us.

Behold the Lamb of God who comes to take away our sin.

I am listening to Andrew Peterson's Behold the Lamb. And tears are just streaming down my face. What a beautifully, scaldingly holy, RIGHT moment it is. To hear words that open my heart's eyes to the truth that people waited a long long time for Jesus' birth. Centuries of people who longed to be holy. To be right before God. And there was no way, just a promise that one day there was going to be a way.

Have you ever waited for something that you wanted. Needed. Something that was going to be the Best Thing Ever? I have. But not like this kind of waiting. When old Simeon's old eyes saw the baby Savior his heart must have burst with joy. In fact, he claimed that now he could die because what he had waited for all his life had now come.

And then without us waiting at all for Him, we learn that He came. The shepherds heard it from the angels that this dazzling event was going to give us peace henceforth. Peace with God that would never end. God, the creator and Father, sent me a savior. And opened my eyes to the need for such a provision. I love that God just gave me a hint to what the exhausted and troubled creation felt at the incarnation.

What lasts?

Back to that thought about the wise man building his house on the rock. Conforming his 'house' to the shape of the rock. And then the house will be unshakable no matter how high the water rises, or how hard the wind blows. And that's what we want. Really. We really don't want things to go our way. It's just that we think out things and figure that our plan is a pretty good one and will endure the strains of life. We aren't the wisest life-constructors and shouldn't really trust all of our instincts.

I read this quotation this morning: "Genuine faith is tested by suffering; false faith will be lost. And that is a gift; the sooner the better."

At first I thought it was sort of mean...like, get the posers out of the room! But then I realized that it is a kind gift of God to expose in my life where my faith is not real. Where I have a different hope than a hope in God. Where I have 'heard God's words and didn't do them' and shortcutted my house/life's foundation in shifting sand. Because He knows that storms and wind will blast my life. He knows how hard my house/life will be shaken. And He cares that my house/life will be tested and found genuine. The sooner I find a false faith, the sooner I can re-orient myself to God.

Piper says, 'if all hell breaks lose in your life and you struggle with unbelief, it is a good to take the time to re-believe.' A good time, indeed.

Perspective

People who know more than I do about babies claim that babies can see but don't understand perspective. That when they look up and see the rail of the crib, and the rocking chair beside the crib and the door on the other side of the room, it looks like they are flat objects all touching each other. Like photographs piled on top of each other. And that being true, that the crib rail is bigger than the chair or the door. Because it looks bigger to the baby.

(Wait a minute. Babies can't tell you that. They can't talk. So how did 'they' come up with that?)

But for the sake of my ponderings I will assume that this is a real phenomenon. Because it happens to me and I am all grown up. Whatever is closest to me fills my vision. Consumes my thoughts. Takes my energy. Dominates my conversations. Like right now? Ryan and Ashley are getting married and there are shower and receptions details that are delightful and complicated and the dates are looming closer and I talk about this ALL the time.

Or I recently spoke with my oncologist's office. And the January dates for the next round of tests looms up large. It is not filling my vision yet, but I think it will because it has in the past.

And all of a sudden I am ready to try something different. I don't like the play when the entire stage is full of cancer props. I am thinking that there can be a way to make that just one of the things I have in view and not just the only thing. To adapt the landscape of my thinking will require some creative thought, though. And I believe I will start with poster size views of my amazing Redeemer. Perhaps song lyrics and verses blown up super large. That just might help crowd out the unattractive and unappealing characters that occupy my view.

huh.

Ever feel like things sort of pile up all at once? Like you can't really get used to some hard thing and then in crash a bunch of other things. Almost like it was arranged by a sovereign God. Almost like it was meant to quickly and effectively use up my stock pile of energy, stamina and human optimism.

Instead of trying to process these things and figuring out how I would ask God to move and how I would suggest a way through this 'howling wilderness' for a struggling friend, I can only pray for mercy. For lots and lots of mercy. Oh please, God, let your mercy be known and abundant and accepted by all of us.

And I find that my racing mind and grieving heart are quieted by the assurance that God knows and is actively creating a way through this for all of us.

The Short Leash

I have been pondering for a good while on the difference between the narrow road and the wide road. Or more accurately, the difference between the people who walk on those roads. Both are on a journey from one place to another (meaning they are not entirely satisfied where they are...they are looking for something else.)

One thing I have thought of is that wide road people resent being on 'a leash'. Being connected to someone who has the might and the right to tell them where to go and when to stop. Someone, other than their own inclination and ambitions, who can force that stronger will on them. What an enemy to autonomy and independence! How galling to have to be seen by others as one who submits one's will to another's design.

But narrow road people do not resent the leash. Or the shortening of the leash. It allows them to be held in closer proximity to that good Master. It allows a more regular communication. As the will is bent to follow the leash's lead, a greater joy is known by both ends of the leash, because both are moving toward a common destination.

thoughts about heaven

I am shamelessly robbing some Wendell Berry, Jayber Crow to be precise. (pg 268 to be exact.) Jaber is visiting with the recent widow of a good friend. She is trying to put into words how two things can be true, her husband 'finally got free of his sickness and awful clumsiness' which made her glad. And yet she was so sorry that she was glad. Seems wrong.

And then Jayber ponders. 'I thought an unimaginable thought of something I could almost imagine, of a sound I could not imagine but could almost hear: the outcry when a soul shakes off death at last and comes into Heaven. I don't speak of this because I 'know' it. What I know is that shout of limitless joy, love unbound at last, our only native tongue.'

Can you pause for a moment and think what liberty and breath and swelling joy it will be? When the carrying around death in our body is finally done. When the scent we smell (that comes off of us) is Not decay, but life. When our timeless body only looks ahead to glory and even more life. There has to be shouts and leaps for joy when we realize that its finally our turn for that life.

Forebearance by Samuel Coleridge

Gently I took that which ungently came, and without scorn forgave;
Do thou the same.
A wrong done to thee think a cat's-eye-spark thou wouldst not see,
were thine own heart dark.
Thine own keen sense of wrong that thirsts for sin, fear that -
the spark self kindled from within, which blown upon will blind thee
with its glare, or smothered stifle thee with noisome air.
Clap on the extinguisher, pull up the blinds, and soon the ventilated spirit finds
its natural daylight.
If a foe have kenn'd, or worse than foe, an alienated friend, a rib of dry rot in
thy ship's stout side, think it God's message, and in humble pride with a heart
of oak replace it. Thine the gains. Give him the rotten timber for his pains!

Ok. This poem has been a very good visual help to me at times. I find that I need to be reminded that God is sovereign. He uses painful moments to reveal Himself to me. To reveal myself to me. To let me understand that I have a pretty big problem with the way I assess what happens to me. And the kindest thing God can do is to relieve me of lots of that self-absorbed, self-protecting, self-excusing posture. That a foe or alienated friend could conjure up wrong for me is a sad tale indeed. But God wants me to know about myself that instead of grief being awakened to that condition in another, I want revenge and justification. I'd be pretty happy if a glaring light were shone on their sin, and my hard and burning reactions were undetected.

And He is after a different revelation. One that exchanges my 'noisome air' for peace and unshakable love. A much better fragrance.

i am no fear

When the disciples were on a boat that was being flooded and tossed and tipped. When experienced sailors began to despair of life (and a tax collector and political activist, and...)Then Jesus spoke these words. English translations say, 'It is I, do not be afraid' . But the Greek (so says pastor Loos) says, 'I am no fear'.

Like the same' I am' that Moses heard when he was trembling with respect and awe before Jahweh. The same 'I am' that caused Uzzah to die because his hand touched the ark of God. In the OT 'I am' was a name of God that called out respect, awe, fear, bare feet, turned away heads, bowed down posture. But in Christ, it makes fear go away.

Have you ever let your mind track back a sin? Like look for a sin root? Like here I am tempted (or recently fallen) and that sin of idolatry came from where? Or that sin of lying came from where? I could be wrong (since I often am) but I wonder if all sin comes from a root stock of fear. Anger certainly does. I am afraid I am losing something so I get mad. Idolatry is the same. I am afraid that this need of mine is going unmet, and maybe unmet forever. So I create my own solution to its void. Revenge, pride, greed. I can see how fear that my life is not being considered important enough to others can cause me to create my own rules.

So when our good and kind God says, 'I am'...I ought to hear that where my heart makes decisions. And watch His presence replace any other thing.

Want God to Bless you?

“This is the kind of fast I’m after:
to break the chains of injustice,
get rid of exploitation in the workplace,
free the oppressed,
cancel debts.
What I’m interested in seeing you do is:
sharing your food with the hungry,
inviting the homeless poor into your homes,
putting clothes on the shivering ill-clad,
being available to your own families.
Do this and the lights will turn on,
and your lives will turn around at once.
Your righteousness will pave your way.
The God of glory will secure your passage.
Then when you pray, God will answer.
You’ll call out for help and I’ll say, ‘Here I am.’

“If you get rid of unfair practices,
quit blaming victims,
quit gossiping about other people’s sins,
If you are generous with the hungry
and start giving yourselves to the down-and-out,
Your lives will begin to glow in the darkness,
your shadowed lives will be bathed in sunlight.
I will always show you where to go.
I’ll give you a full life in the emptiest of places—
firm muscles, strong bones.
You’ll be like a well-watered garden,
a gurgling spring that never runs dry.
You’ll use the old rubble of past lives to build anew,
rebuild the foundations from out of your past.
You’ll be known as those who can fix anything,
restore old ruins, rebuild and renovate,
make the community livable again.”

-Isaiah 58:6-12

So the next time you look at your life and wonder why it lacks some zip, like maybe there is something missing, try this.

(my thanks to Shawn Groves for the Isaiah 58 paraphrase)