Of His Job

In the grand tradition of parents enslaving their children - because when I was younger, there was a time I was certain the only reason my parents had kids was so we could be their servants, because that's what it felt like when I was in the middle of my fourth episode of Saved by the Bell for the afternoon and I had to turn it off to go set the table (so what if my mom hadn't sat down since she got home from work and was now slaving over the hot stove - I had to watch Zack take Kelly to the picnic-table prom in their jeans, for the fourth time, since, of course, I'd already seen every episode in triplicate) - we have also given our servants children chores.

We've eased into it, so now that they've been used to emptying the kids' plastic dishes from the dishwasher, we've given our eldest the task of fillling it at the end of the day (and when she complains, I almost never pull out, "When I was your age, we didn't even have a dishwasher!" - almost never). The thing is, though, even though we've given her the task, I still haven't grown accustomed to not doing that portion of my job - it's still second nature to contiue clearing the counter of dishes throughout the day, so that by the end of her first day on the job, as she approached, down-trodden at the thought of this menial manual labor, she discovered a counter void of dishes and a dishwasher half-full of dirty ones. 

"Mom, did you put the dishes in the dishwasher?"

Thinking nothing of it, because I hadn't necessarily gone out of my way, but merely had done what was habit at this point, I responded, "Yeah, I guess I did."

A smile slid out and she said with genuine gratitude, "Thank you!"

It occurred to me that I had done nothing more than I've been doing regularly for the past seven and a half years of her existence, yet this was the first time she had even thought to thank me for putting dirty dishes in the dishwasher.

And it felt good.

Because it wasn't until the task became her own that she stopped to appreciate that someone else would do that instead. It never occurred to her that it had always been me doing the dishes instead of her, because it had never been "her" job before.

It was a sweet moment. 

And I realized as I contemplated this encounter that it's exactly what God did for His creation. When the first two humans were in the garden, it was His job to watch over them and take care of them, to protect their righteousness. They didn't even have to worry about deciding what was good or evil - their sole task was to simply be and to simply be with God as he strolled with them through the garden daily.

Unfortunately, they were deceived and they made wrong choices and from there it was and is a continual story of man trying to watch out for himself, trying to make himself "good," not even recognizing much of the time that God has always been there rescuing and upholding them with His righteous right hand.

So, they built a tower to try to get to Heaven on their own, because they really thought they could do it. And He thwarted their efforts, recognizing they would never be happy so long as they were trying to do this on their own. Because they didn't realize He was already there. He already wanted to be with them. He'd wanted that all along.

And eventually, as though He were saying, "Fine - you want this to be your job? This job of being righouteous enough to be mine? I'll show you what you need to do," He gave them laws to follow. Tablets filled with laws. This is right, this is wrong. Do your hair this way. You cover your head, but you don't cover your head. Do this. Don't do that. Eat this. Don't eat that. Laws. Everything that would be required to be righteous enough to belong to Him.

Because they never trusted He could do it for them. And all along, He had a plan to show them. It was always Him.

After centuries, the plan came to fruition. God Himself came down as a man and completed the task we'd been trying to do on our own all along - He made us righteous. 

"For as by one man's [Adam's] disobedience the many were made sinners, so by the one man's [Jesus'] obedience the many will be made righteous" (Acts 5:19)

"Out of the anguish of his soul . . . shall the righteous one, my servant, make many to be accounted righteous, and he shall bear their iniquities" (Isaiah 53:11)

And it wasn't until the job had been ours - this job of making ourselves righteous through our own actions - and we felt the weight of a task we were inadequate to fulfill, that we were finally able to see that someone else was holding us up all along. At this moment of redemption, we recognize that the task of being made righteous was completed by the Son of God who hung on a cross, and we turn with a smile on our face and say, "Thank you." Thank you for being there all along. Thank you for completing the task we were unable to complete - the one that we were never designed to complete in the first place. 

Gratitude is the only response to the undeserved righteousness poured over us at the cross.

Thank you.

It's His job. It always has been.

Of Being Fed

We're still in Mark. Last week we covered Jesus feeding five thousand men and their families with five loaves of bread and two fish. Today I read about His feeding four thousand with seven loaves and a few fish. A pair of well-known stories, but what amazes me are the reactions afterward - particularly of his disciples, who still don't quite seem to understand Who this man is that they're following.

As if almost any interesting teacher can turn five loaves of bread and two fish into enough to feed five thousand men with 12 baskets of food leftover.

You know, they see that every day, which is why it's such a shock to see a man walking on water. Because there's something that can't be explained (I mean, I know it's shocking - but what make it the final straw, really?).

Seriously, guys?

So, after he feeds the four thousand, the Pharisees approach him demanding "a sign" - an undeniable indication that He has actually come from Heaven - because all these other party tricks - healing lepers, casting out demons, feeding multitudes, raising the dead - anyone could do that. Well, Jesus isn't about proving Himself to the eyes - He's interested in a heart-deep understanding. And if hearing what He has to say has no effect on their understanding of Him, seeing what He can do won't do much for them either. So He denies their request.

Later, in the boat with His disciples, He warns them of "the leaven of the Pharisees and the leaven of Herod." To which they respond in their eloquent wisdom by arguing with each other over the last loaf of bread - because Heaven knows there's not enough to feed those 13 men on that one boat. 

In fact, Heaven does know exactly how much bread they have. And Heaven knows they just watched this man they're following feed a total of nine thousand men with a grand total of twelve loaves of bread and they still don't get it. They still don't get, as my ESV study notes put it, that this man in the boat with them is "none other than the eternal creator and giver of life." 

They still think He's talking about food.

And they still don't get that if it's the food they're worried about, He'll always be able to provide for it. He is always willing and able to provide for the physical needs.

But His priority, as He proves time and again - not the least of which in feeding these throngs of people through a miracle rather than sending them away so they can all be sustained with nutrients and rest, seeing that the sustenance they need can only be found in His presence, in His words - His priority is to meet the spiritual needs of the people.

And what Jesus is warning them against in speaking of the leaven of Pharisees and Herod, is about taking to heart the worldly wisdom of even "religious" leaders and kings. The puffed up teachings about the outward life that do little to sustain true life. 

Do we hear that warning?

Do we truly understand that God is so much more concerned with what goes into our hearts than what goes into our bodies?

Do our prayers reflect His priorities? Or how much of what we fall on our knees about pertains to our physical needs, comfort, safety? And, conversely, how much of what we take to His feet regards the spiritual needs of our friends, our family, our nation, our planet, ourselves? Does our ratio reflect His?

And in this culture of organic, un-processed, clean, trans-fat-free, non-GMO, no-artificial-sweetener obsession, how concerned are we, by comparison, by what is entering our hearts?

Because we gladly fill ourselves up with the puff of this world - what the news articles tell us, what the entertainment industry feeds us, what the blogs list for us - knowledge, knowledge, knowledge. Leaven, leaven, leaven. And while we're watching every morsel that enters our mouths we're missing the boatloads of trash that are entering our hearts.

And Jesus is saying, "Do you not yet understand?!"

Let our hardened hearts be softened to the true message He came to give. No amount of physical provision and outward change can ever satisfy what our hearts truly crave - the nearness of the eternal creator and giver of life.

Beware the leaven.

Of the Purpose of This Redeemed Life

The women's Bible Study group I am so privileged to be a part of is currently working its way through the gospel of Mark - reading the story of Jesus through the hurried words of a man who got His telling of Jesus straight from the mouth of our brash and beloved disciple, Peter.

This morning, I was in chapter five, where we see Jesus addressing a demon-possessed man living among the tombs of Gerasene - naked, screaming, with the strength to break all chains and shackles. He can't be restrained, but he can't be free.

Jesus comes to him, speaking not to the man himself, merely the host for the legion of demons within, but to those who possess him, casting them out to nearby pigs, so they may have their destructive desire fulfilled on at least some portion of God's creation - just not the portion so precious and prized as a human soul. Because a human soul is worth so much greater than two thousand pigs.

And as people come running to see what the commotion is about, they see this unrestrained man really, finally, free, sitting, clothed and in his right mind. Clothed, because after Jesus restored his spirit, He restored his dignity. And "in his right mind" because, as the ESV footnote states, he was "properly functioning again as an image-bearer of God."

And isn't that what we are all called to? To be cleansed, dignity restored, properly functioning as image-bearers of God? Because though we may not all have the physical demons within, we all have inner demons with which we wrestle - particularly before coming to Christ - that destroy our ability to properly bear His image, as we seek the temporary fix - greed, vanity, lust. And as we are restored to our original function - to serve as image-bearers, we are to take on the characteristics that define Him - love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness and self-control. We are to be in our right mind.

And once we're there, we can suddenly recognize there is only one place we want to be, just as the redeemed former-demoniac of Gerasene recognized, and that's with our Redeemer, our Rescuer. We long to be with Him.

As I was emerging from the fog of depression only about a year or so ago, this was the one thing I wanted. Because if this world was so ugly, why couldn't I just depart and be with Him? Wrapped in His beauty, singing His praises for all of eternity?

Yet, that's not where He wants us. Not yet.

For those of us who remain, He has one command, "Go home to your friends and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you" (Mark 5:19).

It is interesting to note, this is the first time in Mark's account that we see Jesus actively encouraging someone to tell others about Him. Previously He had been very adamant about not spreading the news. He had silenced demons against speaking His name and had told a healed leper, "See that you say nothing to anyone."

Yet this man receives the command to go forth and spread the word. Why?

Of course I can't tell you with 100% certainty what Jesus was thinking, but I wonder if it was because this man redeemed of his demons had a true heart for Jesus - recognizing that with his new healed state, he could live a free life and all he wanted to do with that new life was follow after Jesus.

And this is the kind of testimony Jesus wants told.

He wants hearts that are completely for Him to draw others to Him, not for a spectacle of displayed power, but for the true healing and mercy found only in Him.

This redeemed life isn't about me - it's about making His name known.

Of Anticipating Advent

The New Testament story of Simeon has long been a favorite of mine (for reasons documented here) and this Christmas season I have been blessed with the opportunity to share a devotion with a precious group of ladies whom I adore. So, of course, Simeon is on my mind and I've been working to flesh out his story and his words even more. What does it mean for Jesus to be "a light for revelation?"

As I have researched and cross-referenced, I have come across the words in Isaiah 40, which declare:
"Comfort, comfort my people, says your God.

2 Speak tenderly to Jerusalem,
    and cry to her
that her warfare[a] is ended,
    that her iniquity is pardoned,
that she has received from the Lord's hand
    double for all her sins.

3 A voice cries:[b]
“In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord;
    make straight in the desert a highway for our God.
4 Every valley shall be lifted up,
    and every mountain and hill be made low;
the uneven ground shall become level,
    and the rough places a plain.
5 And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed,
    and all flesh shall see it together,
    for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.”"

And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed . . . made manifest, as my footnote indicates.

And Simeon, the Scripture says, is one of these who eagerly anticipated the comfort that had been declared, this glory of the Lord to be revealed.

It has often been stated that the 400 years represented by the gap between the Old Testament and the New are the "silent years" in which God did not speak to His people. Yet, as the angels appearing to Zechariah, Mary, and Joseph indicate, as the Holy Spirit speaking to Simeon that he would not die before he saw the promised One indicates, God was anything but silent during these times.

Just as He is anything but silent in our time.

We live in a time not unlike that of Simeon. His people had waited over 700 years since Isaiah spoke his prophecies declaring this Messiah - 400 years since any prophet had spoken ever. They watched their people be overthrown, tossed around by the kingdoms of this world and then come under Roman rule. Times were difficult. And these people who had been waiting and watching and praying, asked, "How much longer, Lord?!"

And here are we, 2000 years since that first fulfillment of prophecy, yet 1900 years from the last confirmed Word from God to all people. The canon was closed and God turned "silent." And the people watched. And they waited. And they prayed.

And we continue to watch. And wait. And pray. And cry out, "How much longer, Lord?!"

Yet, we do not wait without hope. We have this hope that is Christmas - this evidence of promises fulfilled. We do not know His timing, but we know He is faithful.

And that's what this season of Advent is truly about - feeling the weight of this anticipation. Of watching, and hoping, for this Savior of the world.

It's not simply finding a creative way of counting down 24 days, awaiting the presents, or the meal, or the cookies, or even the starlit wonder in the eyes of children, waking in the pre-dawn hours to unwrap what they have been anticipating.

It is a time of hope and anticipation, to truly grasp what the world felt as it waited from the dawn of time for a Savior of God's people, and for all people, everywhere, to emerge and mend what was broken. And as we live in a world that seems beyond repair, we must know what that was like. We must know this anticipation and hope. And we can see the day coming - the day that represents the birth of this Savior, this God made flesh Who came down, His glory made manifest for all people. And we can rejoice knowing, while we remain in the dark, we can unwrap this greatest gift we have been anticipating and understand, the dawn is yet to come. There is still a day coming.

But it will come. Let us wait with wonder.

Of Our Redemption

I hate people.

Or, at least, that's what I told my husband, numerous times, as we traipsed across Europe, people everywhere (apparently August is the height of tourist season in Paris, which maybe extends to all of Europe? - which clearly makes it the ideal time for crowd-despising individuals like ourselves to make a visit). People shoving, people looking out for their own interests, even if it clearly interferes with what someone else is trying to do, people just being people.

As an introvert, there is definitely a large part of me that hates people, particularly en masse. But as a believer in Christ, there is a large part of me that loves people, or wants to love them.

Yet, there has been an overwhelming reminder lately, in our lives, in the lives of dear friends, in the lives of those in our church, and even now, reminders in the media, that people fail. They fail in big ways. In hurtful, devastating ways. People we would have regarded as examples or pillars of faith, as family, friends, or even someone in the distance to admire. They have failed. They have failed in ways we would never have imagined or believed if we'd been told (and in some ways we didn't want to believe, even after we were told).

And part of me just wants to declare it once again: I hate people.

But the truth of the matter is, when I hear about these people and the choices they have made that bring shame to themselves, their families and, most importantly, to the name of God, I don't hate the people. I hate Satan.

I hate the lies he has whispered in their ears. I hate the victory dance I imagine is happening even now as yet another warrior and champion for the cause of Christ has been tried and found guilty. He is delighting in the downfall of those who have brought others to the Lord, who have discipled and encouraged godly living. The downfalls that will, undoubtedly, cause some to question all they know about God when the person they learned it from has let them down. He is celebrating stolen innocence, broken homes, fallen tears, and shattered hearts.

He is having the time of His life.

And I burn with hatred.

Yet, in this moment, this moment when it feels like there are no good people left in the world, we have to remember:

We're right.

But that's because the one good person in this world died two thousand years ago. The rest of us have all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God (Romans 3:23). We have been tried and found guilty. We are unworthy to carry His cause or His name. Even those of us in the church, who have embraced our redemption found in the old rugged cross, but who have found it difficult to put to death what is earthly in us (Colossians 3:5).

Some of us have our flaws publicly declared, our names dragged into the Colisseum of public mockery and scorn. The rest of us are secretly glad no one can see what is happening behind our closed doors.

And if we are not. If we have become so puffed up as to believe that we have nothing to hide, or nothing in our lives that could bring us shame, let us be aware that this is exactly where Satan wants us. Because when we have decided we are above it all and "would never do that," that's when he knows he has us. When we are not on our guard, constantly aware of what is broken in us, constantly clinging to Christ and begging he would cleanse our putrid hearts. Daily asking, because this process of sanctification, being renewed in knowledge after the image of our Creator (Colossians 3:10), is just that - a process, a daily, sometimes tedious, sometimes heart-wrenching, process, which will not be completed until the day of Christ. When we are not in this place recognizing, but for the grace of God, there go I. When we are not whispering in the ear of God, when we have become weak in our own strength, leaving the smallest opening for the whispers of the enemy, that is when we fail to notice where our path is going - where those whispers are taking us.

And when I see that this is me. This person who has taken one more step, and then another and then another toward that one feeble calling I have heard before and been tempted to follow. In that moment of recognition, I find myself unworthy.

And I find Him worthy. The One who stepped down from His throne to walk the earth among these people. These throngs of crowding, mocking people. To subject Himself to humiliation and scorn on behalf of all of us who have brought shame to His name, so that He can bring us out of this pit and He can embrace in love those of us who would so easily be consumed by hate. He was pierced for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities, and by his wounds we are healed (Isaiah 53:5).

Because we all, like sheep have gone astray. We have turned - every one - to his own way. And the Lord has laid on Him (on Him, the only perfect one, undeserving of wrath) the iniquity of us all (Isaiah 53:6). Yet, out of the anguish of His soul he shall see and be satisfied; for He has made many to be accounted as righteous (Isaiah 53:11).

Our boast is not in the strength of flesh and bone, but in the costly wounds of love. We all are weak, yet He is strong. And He welcomes all of us, failures that we are, into the righteousness that is only found in Him. Into the redemption provided for all of us. At the cross.

Of the Need to Cry

He's our "sensitive one", as we often put it.  The boy who cries for anything.

The boy who cries this morning because his portion of the cartoon-splattered newspaper pages has been ripped - torn nearly in two.  The boy whose low, forced wails only wear on my Momma ears.

"Emmett, please stop crying.  I know you're sad, but it will be ok."  I'm weary from it, the crying, the noise, the chatter.

"It's broken and so I need to cry!" comes his response.

And the truth of it echos.

It's broken, and thus we cry - because we need to.

This world around us, it is broken.  And, yet, do we cry?  Does the brokenness alone break our hearts?  Or are we de-sensitized? Does the chatter, the noise, deaden our ears to the pain?

Am I moved to tears when I see evidence of a child, a herd of children, the un-important ones, digging through garbage in Ethiopia? When I hear of daughters, sisters, being sold like cattle, only for a much more vile purpose, in places on the other side of the world - do these facts paralyze me in sadness?  Or are they just numbers? A fairy-tale of injustice? Someone else's life, someone else's problem?

Jesus wept.

Jesus weeps.

This world is broken and so He has to cry.

This world is broken and His people are unmoved. And He must cry.

Oh, Lord, break my heart over this broken world. And then show me where to move, to heal. To be part of the solution to someone else's problem.  The problem of humanity.

Of Asking the Question

As an early teen, I became swept up, as did many others, in the movement among our Christian culture motivating all of us to spread out into the world sporting our many-colored woven bracelets with four bold letters stamped across them: "WWJD?"  Yes, I did.  I had the bracelets.  I had t-shirts, necklaces, keychains.  I, along with many others, felt the daily reminders would keep me in line, following in the footsteps of my Savior.

The funny thing is, only today, two decades after the phrase was coined, do I feel I truly understand what those letters actually meant.  

I asked myself, "What would Jesus do?" as an external motivator.  As if Jesus were just a good standard to live up to.  Jesus did good, therefore I, too, should do good.  It logically follows, then, if I ask myself the question and live by its answer, I will be doing good.

The end.

Yet, is that all He is to me?  A good moral leader?  One whose example is to be admired and followed, as best I can, or is comfortable for me?  Someone whose name adorns my wrist, clothing and other personal effects so they may speak where my words constantly fail to proclaim Him directly?

Of course, we realized long ago that a token bracelet was not the key to living this Christian life and, as with all fads, the movement died down and we went back to our daily lives - living them just the way we'd want to, because the question simply became too bland, too common-place, lost in the shuffle.

How is it I have only just now discovered what it means to ask, "What would Jesus do?" not because I want to be like Him, but because, as one baptized in His name, He is truly to be living through me.  The question, then, is not, "What should I do so I can be like Jesus?" but "What should I do as one through whom Jesus is actually living?"  It's a daily putting aside of my own desires and recognizing, He is in me - therefore my reaction is to be His.  My caring for others is to be His caring for others.  My body is to be daily living out His actions.  I am not my own.  I am His.  What, then, if I were truly giving myself over to Him, would I be doing?  What would He be doing through me?

15 years ago, it was my striving to fulfill that question to the best of my ability.  Today it is my allowing Jesus to answer it through me, to the best of His infinite ability.

So I'm asking myself the question again today.  What will I allow Him to accomplish in me and through me?  What would Jesus do?  What will He do?

1,000 Gifts:

1097. Dead flowers that still speak, "I love you."

1098. The comfort of a compassionate daughter, "Don't cry, Mommy, don't cry."

1099. First world problems in perspective

1100. A decision that my life is over; His must begin

Of My Future Grandchildren

Scene: I am walking three kids to the car in a fairly deserted and complacent parking lot - but recognizing a teachable moment (as in one that won't get my child run over for making the wrong decision but knowing they need to learn before that happens), I order them to stop running, stay close to me and stay close to the car.  I then kneel down to have a rational conversation with my four-year-old . . .

Me: "I know there are not many cars in this parking lot, but we still need to be very careful because we don't know when a car might come and these cars are a lot bigger than you and could crush you (now realizing I may be getting too graphic for a four-year-old but also not wanting to end with a simple, "and you could get hurt" because paper cuts hurt, cars are a little more serious) and then you could get dead."

Micaiah: (not too fazed) "Yeah, and when I get dead because of the cars, then I will see Jesus."

Me: "Well, yes, and we want to see Jesus, but I don't want you to see Jesus until you're old and wrinkly and have had lots of kids and grandkids."

Micaiah: "And when I am big like you, I will have kids!"

Me: "Yep, and when you're big like Gram, you will have grandkids.  And when you're big like Grandma Veta, you will have GREAT-grandkids and I don't want you to see Jesus before that happens."


This lovely scene led to a great fascination with the idea that someday she will have her own children.  Also, it led to the realization that her children will call her little brother Uncle Emmett - but for lack of anyone else, she will be marrying Joey.  And they will have lots of "different kids".  And they will have a little girl named Kylie, "just like my cousin."

And these are the things we learn through one teachable moment in the parking lot.

1,000 Gifts:
1032. A calm evening out with the family
1033. Gingerbread House ice cream
1034. Thanksgiving preparations
1035. A Christmas suit for my toddler
1036. Rice scattered everywhere - signs of good times for our children

Of Eternal Conversations

As a part of our home-schooling efforts, we generally share a "verse of the week".  This past week, Micaiah's verse was Matthew 16:15, "Go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creatures."

While she traced a few of the words on her coloring sheet with clipart of the earth on it, I pulled out our inflatable globe to discuss the continents with her:

"And this is Africa, where Aunt Dia went, and Europe is over here - that's where Aunt Becky and Uncle Gary live [these are Philip's aunt and uncle who currently serve as missionaries in England)].  And God wants us to go into ALL the world," I explained, indicating the entire ball in my hands, "to preach the gospel - which means to tell them about Jesus.  That's why Dia went to Africa - so she could tell people about Jesus - and that's why Uncle Gary and Aunt Becky live in Europe - so they can tell people about Jesus."

At this, Micaiah stopped her coloring and looked at me with interested surprise, "Is Jesus real?!"

I could see in her face this confusion over the fact that anyone would travel to or live in a completely different place just to tell people about this Jesus who was in the stories Mommy and Daddy read and the teachers at church talk about.  Until this moment, I understood, Jesus had been no more real to her than Santa Claus or Rapunzel - great characters in books and movies but nothing more.

"Yes," I said, "Jesus is real."

Excitedly she responded, "I want to see him!"  What she was really asking was, "I mean, seriously, if this guy is real, why haven't I met him?!"

"Well, he is real, but he lived a long time ago.  He doesn't live on this world anymore," I indicated the ball in my hands, "He lives in Heaven, with God."

"I want to see God and Jesus!"

"Well, we can't see them now.  They live in Heaven.  But, if we believe in them and do what they say, then someday, when we die, we will get to be with them in Heaven."

"I don't want to die!"  Suddenly she was scared and I realized the error in proselytizing a pre-schooler.

And while the topic might have gotten a little scary for her, it was a good conversation (up until she began focusing on the death part).  It was one of those moments that made me realize just how important my job, between the washing of the dishes, the folding of the clothes, the enforcing of the naps and the changing of the diapers, really is.  These children are my ministry.  And nothing could be more valuable.

1,000 Gifts:
966. Eternal conversations
967. A twirling dress
968. My husband, the official snuggling buddy of the two-year-old classroom
969. An old camera revived (while the other is still in the land of the lost)
970. Fancy desserts (at home)

The photo I would have posted on Friday - stained glass cookies hanging in the window (until it's time to eat them, of course).

Micaiah, wearing Aunt Dia's old dress from Mexico (I believe?).  She looked adorable.

Emmett wanted his picture taken, too.  And, apparently, so did Diego - the orange kitty who has adopted us.

Last but not least - Joseph.  Our little one-toothed, crawling, eight-month-old.

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 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:

I Walk the Road

I was in Bible Study this morning, studying the passage about the two friends on the road to Emmaus when Jesus appears to them post-resurrection and I feel like there was a torrential downpour of revelations flowing into me that I hope I can somehow put together into words that make sense outside of my own head.

The passage we were referring to was in Luke, Luke 24:13-35 to be exact. Here we find a familiar story of two friends traveling to Emmaus after the crucifixion of their dear friend and leader, Jesus. They are discussing the events when a stranger approaches them. We, as the omniscient readers, know this stranger to be Jesus and too often we dwell on that and forget to see this story from the point of view of the two men. This man was a stranger to them. They did not know from whence he came or why he was at all interested in traveling with them. On top of this, he has the audacity to ask them why they are sad – to which one replies, “Are you the only one who has no idea what’s going on?!” Our friend, Jesus, asks them to enlighten him.

This is where the story begins to be something we can relate to, only I’ve never noticed this before. They begin to detail for him the events that have recently unfolded – there was a man who they believed to be the redeemer of Israel who had walked with them and taught them and they had placed all their hope in him as the true Messiah – and then he died! Just like that. He never put up a fight; he didn’t rain down fire on the Romans; he didn’t start this glorious uprising – he just died! And NOW, women are claiming to have seen him arisen and they don’t know what to do about that.

Just imagine! These men, and almost anyone who truly believed Jesus was the Messiah, spent the whole time they were with Him just waiting. Waiting for that magnificent moment when Jesus would rescue them all from the lives they’d been living. Isn’t that what the Messiah was going to do? So they waited. He was arrested by the guards and they waited. He went through the trial and they waited. He endured humiliation and torture and they waited. He was nailed to the cross and they waited. And then He breathed his last.

And it was like losing that breath they’d been holding for the last three years, waiting. And then they remembered – He had predicted this! He was going to die and then be risen again! Surely, that’s when they would see His awesome power and He would show the world who He was. Surely. And then these women come and claim to have seen Him alive?! Surely not! Surely when He arises it will be powerful and without question the most amazing thing anyone has seen. He would surely not simply come to life and talk to a couple of women without grandly announcing His victory.

But that wasn’t His style.

Jesus was never flashy and did not feel the need to overtly express His strength. He was a gentle spirit who had come to seek and save the lost.

How often are we those two men on the road – just waiting. Waiting for God to come into our miserable circumstances and sweep us away to victory. Yes, we may be in the valley but we just know God will bring His chariots of fire to rescue us. Surely He does not intend for us to stay in this valley and endure it to the end. Surely not.

God never promised we wouldn’t have to walk the road of sorrow – He only promised He would walk with us, whether we recognize Him or not.

- - -

Remembering this, then, that Jesus was not the mighty sword-wielding crusader they were expecting, I thought back to the stories we know of Jesus, especially in dealing with the lost. How often do we see Jesus telling the lost they're doing everything wrong? Explaining to them they are the most despicable creatures on earth, but if they turn around, then He'll associate with them - then He'll show them love? I'm pretty sure I missed that Bible story. Do we see Him outside the brothels with signs, picketing? Do we see Him boycotting because the tax collectors are greedy liars? Pretty sure we don't. In fact, when do we see Jesus angry? Stop. Think about it. When do we see Jesus throwing a fit over the way others are acting? I'm pretty sure it's not with unbelievers.

The accounts we have of Jesus ready to spit fire, throwing over tables, and calling people out is only when He is dealing with those in the church - the ones who are crushing down those who are already oppressed. The ones who are blatantly disrespecting His Father and the lost sheep He has come to find.

How often do we act as less of a representation of Christ and more a representation of Peter, pulling out our swords to cut off the ears of anyone who acts against God - rather than allowing God to take care of it? We were not called to be God's rabble-rousers. Read the Old Testament - God rained down fire on Sodom and Gomorrah, His power tore down the walls of Jericho. I'm pretty positive He needs no help from us if He sees immoral disbelievers that need to be taken care of.

What He does call us to do is to be Jesus to others. Be the relational extension of His hands and feet. Feed the hungry, embrace the unclean, the untouched. Show them love.

"Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus." - Philippians 2:5