Of Expecting a Miracle

They must have expected a miracle that day.  What must it have felt like to watch Jesus breathe His last?  To have waited, anxiously for something, anything, to happen, for someone, anyone to intervene?  In a vastly more tragic way, it would have been like reading a book and knowing, just knowing, the author surely wouldn't kill the main character - no matter how perilous, you just know he'll always pull through.

But this Author was different.  He actually killed the main character.

And there they were, His disciples, in dismay, confused, shocked, scared.  Here was this man for Whom they had given up all they had, their livelihoods, their families, their very lives as they knew them.  They had thrown everything away to follow this Teacher, they had backed Him as best they knew how - as if He'd needed their backing.

And now they were alone.  Sheep without a shepherd, left to hiding out in locked rooms, not knowing what to do next.

What must it have felt like?

Sure, it's easy on this side.  We know what happened just a couple of days later.  They didn't know.

They had nothing to do but wait and wonder.

I was challenged by a fellow student during my freshman year of college to live through Saturday.  The uncertainty, the fear, the sorrow.  Jesus was dead and the future was very unclear to these who gathered, the ones who had expected a miracle from the man they had watched perform them multiple times in the past three years.

Remember.  Remember that they did not yet have the blessed assurance with which we live today.

Remember and praise - because we know.  We know Whom we have believed - and our Redeemer lives.




1,000 Gifts (inspired by the lists here and here):
207. Redemptive grace found on two perpendicular beams.
208. A tiny, multi-colored piano we can play together.
209. A home to house our three greatest blessings.
210. "The Way" borrowed from the library - inspiration to travel the world (as if we needed it).
211. Ingredients for pelmeni - oh, how I love the Russian pasta.
212. True freedom.


My Life: My Morning
The Yin and Yang of my day - the joy of  playing piano with this little one contrasted to the monotony of tackling this pile of laundry (which may or may not have been sitting in my living room the better part of the week).

Of Living Truth in the Small Things

Sometime within the last few years, I have become convicted about speeding - the idea that, as a Christian, I am subject not only to the law of God, but also to the law of the existing government (so long as it does not conflict with the former).  Therefore, following the speed limit, while frustrating at times, is a form of submitting to Christ.

And if that weren't enough reason, there's the simple fact that my budget has little room for a speeding ticket - and if I'm already in a hurry, stopping to get that ticket I can't afford would waste more time than going five miles per hour slower.  

Thus, I keep it slow and steady.

For the record, I was not always this way.  There was a certain time I was much less cautious with the gas pedal.  Like the time I made the drive from St. Louis, MO to Shawnee, OK, a drive that will take eight hours if one follows the limits precisely and makes only one necessary fuel stop, in less than six hours.  I may have waited to let my mom know I'd made it safely until I'd been there a couple of hours - and when I called, believing I'd just arrived, she may have said, "Wow, that was quick." Um, yeah . . . (This is the first she's heard of this, by the way - sorry, Mom).

So, anyway, that was the old me.  Today, the new me was making the hour drive to our midwives for my six-week post-partum visit in our Cavalier whose cruise control is sketchy at best, trying to set the control to where the two numbers on my GPS, the ones that indicate my speed in comparison to the local limit, would match precisely, after about ten attempts, I gave up, before realizing it apparently had set at some point.  And I was now going consistently 2mph above the speed limit.  

Now, to most people this wouldn't be a big deal.  And I really tried to convince myself it wasn't.  But, I know going a couple of miles over while passing or when I lose track of what I'm doing here and there is an entirely different matter than purposely telling my car to stay above the limit for a prolonged period of time.  

And I felt that nudge.  The nudge that says, "Do what you know is right."  That Holy Spirit nudge.

And I tried to reason with it, "It's just 2mph and this cruise control is SO obnoxious to re-adjust, surely just this once it'll be alright."  But I couldn't shake the feeling.  So I sadly pressed on the brake to re-set my speed.  After another five tries, I was set - 70mph, nothing more, nothing less.

About 30 seconds later, I was passed, just barely, by a pick-up, surpassing my speed only slightly.  Following just behind was a black and white SUV.  Just as the thought occurred to me that this resembled a police car, I noticed the shield on the door, State Trooper.  And just as I noticed that, I noticed the red and blue lights beginning to flicker.

The Trooper was pulling over this truck who was going just barely over the speed limit.  Right next to me.  

That could have been me, wasting time I didn't have to get a ticket I couldn't afford, had I not been obedient to my convictions and the prompting of the Holy Spirit - to follow the speed limit, no less.

It's always good to have a reminder that sometimes when it seems so easy to let something slide - something that seems so insignificant - there are reasons we are nudged and there are reasons we have been called to live a life purposed for His calling.

1,000 Gifts (inspired by the lists here and here):
206. 11am: A GPS that knows where it's going, and an unplanned drive in the country.
207. 2pm: An exhausted girl telling me she'd rather take a nap than keep playing.
208. 6pm: A weight lifted through the easy return of a dresser we thought was a lost cause.
209. A reminder to dream in "And the Angels Were Silent" by Max Lucado.
210. A sleep-trained child, napping in his own crib.
211. A husband taking over the leadership I have so often clung to.


My Life: My Favorite Shoes

My Ssekos, I love them so much, I've even blogged about them on my deals site.  They're amazing.  Just sayin'.

Just a couple updated photos so you can see how this handsome little guy is growing.  The midwives weighed him at a whopping 13lb 14oz today - and he's measuring 23 inches!

Of Bearing Fruit

I shared last week about the fact that some of the deepest insecurities in my life were rooted in my hidden belief that, somehow, God was disappointed in me.  This morning, in the wee hours, as I held a hungry baby in my lap, during those precious hours in the dark when I have nothing to take up my mind but my honest thoughts and prayers to God, this is when I realized part of the cause of this belief was my misunderstanding of the idea that a true follower of Christ will be recognized by her fruit.

I believe my misunderstanding was caused by a confusion with the secular phrase "fruits of our labor" which indicates tangible "fruits."  Thus, I had been feeling lacking.  I had little fruits to show for my daily labors.  The folded clothes that are dirty again already, the washed dishes stacked by the sink again the very next day, the countless changed diapers tossed in the trash (or the laundry, adding to the chores).  None of these were lasting. 

I wasn't growing disciples, I wasn't feeding the poor.  While I had a few efforts for the benefit of others, I felt my tangible fruits just weren't enough to be counted as worthy.  My tree was ineffective at bearing good fruit.

What I was missing, though, was the Truth that the fruits which are to identify us with Christ are not physically visible - these fruits to which we refer are deeper than a simple act, or a series of actions, even.

"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control." (Galatians 5:22-23)

I had heard, read, studied this verse innumerable amounts.  So why had I never really understood?  

Somehow I read these as a to-do list.  I need to try to be more loving, more joyful, more patient.  If I'm lacking, I need to pray that God will help me be more gentle.  Not that the trying is wrong, but it's missing the point.  I was focusing on the fruits and not on the Spirit which produces them.

The branches can't force the fruit, it comes from within - the roots dig deep, the tree bears up and the fruit is the natural result of what the tree is.  The tree doesn't need to try to produce fruit, it just does, because that's what it was made to do.

When we are firmly planted in the Spirit, our efforts will not produce fruit, but, rather, these characteristics will be a natural result of who we are or, more specifically, who we are in Christ.  

Did you ever notice this verse in context?

These words directly follow a list of not-to-dos, specific actions that are against the Spirit.  So, why, then, are the fruits not equally specific actions?  I think Paul was purposely trying not to give us a neat little checklist that would give us some sort of confidence in our own flesh as we hold our own actions up against the items he names and feel we're doing ok - we're doing everything just right.

But that's just the point of the fruits coming from the Spirit - we cannot create them in our own power.  Again, only being fully planted in God allows these beautiful fruits of gentleness and self-control to blossom to maturity.

I mention all of the above because I have noticed, now that I have opened the dark corners of my heart, the ones I had left guarded, to the one God who created me and is not disappointed in the one who seeks after Him whole-heartedly, these fruits are truly developing in my life - I see more patience with my children, kindness toward my husband and gentleness in responding to others.  And these have come from no effort of my own - they just are.  

Clearly, I'm not perfect, but the fruits are definitely beginning to bud.

Thank you, God, for considering me worthy in Christ to continue to work to develop my spiritual maturity; I am humbled by Your love.

1,000 Gifts (inspired by the lists here and here):

200. Confirmation that He Who began a good work will be faithful to complete it.

201. Hope in His deliverance.

202. Understanding His grace is sufficient.

203. A cradle resting in my room which has now rocked not only my babies but their father as well, and was built by the hands of his uncle and grandfather.

204. Clothes that were old to them but new to us.

205. A big boy releasing himself from his own blue jacket, unzipping it and all.

My Life: My Reflection

Mr. Joseph has started doing this as of late - it's pretty adorable (though be not deceived by the angle - while he's getting bigger every day, he wears the weight well and is not quite so chubby as this photo might indicate).

Of New Growth

I wish I knew how to describe it, but since the realization of Wednesday - the fact that God not only loves me, He likes me; He sacrificed for me, not because He thought I would one day get it all right (because I won't), but because I am His creation - I have felt a change deep within.

Not a change I have forced, as I've attempted to do in the past, but a natural result of realizing Whose I am - really realizing it, allowing my head knowledge to be planted, finally, in the fertile soil of my heart - my once-fallow ground.

I have always had a problem with being judgmental and somewhat prideful.  Though I have tried very hard in the past to reign those thoughts in, when my guard was down they would pour out.  My husband and those closest to me have seen a whole lot of ugly planted in my heart - for out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks.  My fallow ground had become very weed-ridden.

I was trying to take every thought captive, so as to catch my problem at the root, in the mind.  But these efforts were all my own.  Only God has the true power to actually uproot the weeds, rather than just pulling at the stems.

In the past couple of days I have noticed these negative thoughts and attitudes I have tried so hard to squelch in the past by my own efforts have simply dissolved.  Not by any effort of my own, they're gone.  Not by my power, but that of Christ alone.  The power I have denied in the past by not allowing myself to truly depend on Him.

How beautiful to live a life fully given over to God.  Someday I'll be there, but for now we're working on it.

1,000 Gifts: 
175. A friendship which had fallen by the wayside with time, but picked up, dusted off and treasured once more.
176. Sleeping when the baby is sleeping; or making him sleep when I'm sleeping.
177. Storming and tickling after nap-time.

Taking Time for Play: Silly Outfit 
Recycling photos from yesterday, I love Micaiah's choice in clothes.  Hearts and Leopard Spots, she's all about mixing patterns - so trendy already.

Of Being Intentional

Sunday afternoon, as I changed diapers post-nap-time, Micaiah talked about how she wanted to play a song (pointing to her radio, which has actually never been used in her room) and began to pretend:
"And we play the song and we sing, 'There was a shake and a rattle and the stone was rolled away!'"

Having never heard these lyrics before, I was surprised and had her repeat herself, as the first rendition had been rather soft and I wanted to be sure I'd heard correctly.  But sure enough, there was my daughter, singing about the Resurrection.  I asked her if she knew who the song was about, but she moved on to another topic (that's a three-year-old brain for you).

Later, as she sang her new song for Daddy, too, I again asked her if she knew who it was about and she responded, "Um, Jesus, and He died on the cross and I draw a cross."  This is when I realized her Sunday School lessons were a) more deep than I gave them credit for and b) actually getting through to her.  And then I was sad, because I should not be surprised to hear my daughter talk of the cross and what it means - I should have been teaching her.

But the truth is, any theological truth that comes from my daughter's mouth did not come from us.  Making Jesus-talk a normal part of our daily conversation is not a strength for either my husband or myself.  And, lately (today, especially), I have felt very convicted of this.

I want spiritual truth to be second nature to our children.  I want them to know why we pray and to Whom we pray.  I want them to value the Word and hide it in their hearts.  I want them to know God.  And for this to happen, we need to be sure we are making Him evident in our own lives as we live in front of our children.

I plan to be more intentional in making our spiritual life and our daily life inseparable.  Pray with me in this endeavor.

1,000 Gifts:
37. Brussels sprouts, sprinkled with almonds, adorning our dinner plates.
38. Extra plates at lunch-time as we bless a friend and ourselves.

39. Fresh pineapple on the counter waiting to be made into salsa for tomorrow's dinner.
40. A red straw in the chocolate shake my husband bought just for me.
41. A red marker - our daughter's new favorite, used to color every paper she can find.
42. Two children, clad in red pajamas, climbing all over their daddy.

The above picture is also my photo for today's Taking Time For Play Challenge: "a smile."

And just for smiles, my new favorite outfit for Joey: