Meditation: Obedience

"Now my soul is troubled, and what shall I say? 'Father, save Me from this hour'? But for this purpose I came to this hour. Father, glorify Your name." (John 12:27, NKJV)

This is the "glad surrender" of Christ; the laying aside of His own will to unite with the Trinity. I, too, must learn, as He did, obedience in yielding--in wanting, not my own will, but His purpose for this hour.

But if the Savior's life purpose brought trouble to His soul, why would I think that His will for me is found by taking the path of least resistance, simply walking through open doors? He would not spare His own Son, whom He loves, a troubled soul at the point of choosing to yield to the perfect Way; and, my soul, He loves you, too.

Yield in that same glad surrender to the difficult will--of a call beyond your fathoming, or monotony below your ideals--and trust, as He did, that the Father will bring glory from the appointed hours when your troubled soul chooses selfless obedience.

"For even Christ did not please Himself; but as it is written, 'The reproaches of those who reproached You fell on Me.'" (Romans 15:3)

This, indeed, is a high calling in Christ.

A Summer to Remember

Rich smoke wafting through heavy air.
Little faces dripping with watermelon smiles.
Lightning bugs.
Long, clear twilights that flow into moonglow.
Early morning light.
Happy, full birdsongs that pierce through windy trees.
Soil, rich with promise, tilled and black.
Sweaty bodies, kissed with summer browns and pinks.
Green plants, new, but still familiar.
Freshness, hope.

Each line conjures up a scene, a memory, and urges for the same to come again.

I wish that I was seven again, and could run, following the hose from the dank, cool pump house on the acreage, to find where Mom was, watering the garden a while; or slip on some dirty sneakers to go adventuring in the barns (I still use a favorite paring knife discovered in one of those scroungings); or perhaps spend a whole day biking beside my siblings in meaningless circles, transformed into meaningful treks by the glories of imagination.

Oh, Summer, I remember how we used to be.

The years have changed the seasons, so summer comes differently now. Responsibilities still linger, and more planning often comes with summer events when making mud pies is no longer the pinnacle of a perfect day.

But I want to make this a summer to remember.

I recently read a blog post, dictated by a young woman named Melinda, a friend of a friend who is losing her physical senses - touch, hearing, and most recently, sight - due to a disease called NF2. She's a Believer, but she's struggling right now, with changes in care, and sudden downhill turns in health. And with losing both her hearing and her sight, that tragically limits so many things for her that she use to be able to do (I really can't imagine the darkness that would be). I'd encourage you to read the whole post here, but at least take a moment to ponder this paragraph (I've edited it down slightly for the sake of this post):

"And I know I’m going through some spiritual things, even though I have been trying to remember Bible verses and sing different songs in my head. I just … I’m really struggling with that aspect of knowing that sometime I’m going to have to stop reading my Bible, and realizing that I should have hidden more of God’s Word in my heart. And I don’t think … I don’t think I’m ready, ready for this."

I understand that I just took a nostalgic post about summer and suddenly took a seemingly unrelated u-turn. However, it's all coming to the same point: I want to make this a summer to remember.

I want to take this opporunity, imperfect though it may be, to make memories beyond long days and moonglow, and intentionally memorize God's Word - because sometimes we wait so long for the perfect moment, we look back to see it's already passed.

This isn't to say I haven't ever memorized scripture before, but, like many of you I'm guessing, most of that memory was done during school years, when it was built into the schedule in one way or another. In recent years I've occasionally memorized more, but since reading Malinda's story, it's given me new inspiration and impetus. The phrase, "Those who don't read have no advantage over those who can't," has taken on new meaning. And though I'm not faced with the same struggles of the disease Malinda's battling, I'm still faced with circumstances that would be helped by a mind ready with Truth.

Things like

... renewing my mind on a moment-by-moment basis.

... giving sound counsel and advice.

... sharing with clarity the power of the Gospel.

I could go on listing more, and you could probably add to this list as well. But time spent memorizing scripture will never be time wasted.

A summer spent intentionally filling the crevasses of my mind with scripture is the kind of summer I hope to remember for a lifetime.

I've set some personal goals of how much I hope to memorize over the summer, and would invite you to join me, too, and take on as much as you think you can handle - even if it's just a verse for the month, that's something! I'll be sharing the specifics of how much and what I hope to commit to memory over this summer, as well as some more thoughts and tips that I've found helpful in effective memorization.

But in the meantime, and regardless of whether you decide to join in on this Summer to Remember, please be in prayer for Malinda and her family as they go through these hard days of decline in Malinda's health. And pray for Malinda, that the Words of God (that we can so easily hear and see) would permeate her mind in the darkness of her body, and shine Truth in these difficult days.

I Have Loved You

Malachi, chapter one, verse one: The burden of the word of the Lord to Israel by Malachi.

The burden of the word of the Lord.

The words prepared me for a weight like lead to be poured from Malachi's scroll. A pause anticipated the next breath of the Almighty, the burden of the Lord. What is the sort of thing a Holy God says when the words He speaks hold a burden?

“I have loved you,” says the Lord.
 
I have loved you. These words didn't come like lead; they weren't the lighting one might brace for. They felt more like a heavy rain, like an unfettered gust that nearly undoes gravity when it hits you. Powerful and glorious.

The burden of the word of the Lord...

“I have loved you...”

I slid the leather bound pages closer, and pulled them onto my lap as I curled up tighter on my hope chest, the book enveloped with my body as I hugged my legs closer and read again the words of the book that rested on my knees. I was mesmerized by the straightforward decree from the God who is so often an enigma. But even here there was still something more, something that made this statement complex and bittersweet; there was a burden. 

“I have loved you,” says the Lord.

This love is not the end, but the starting point. In a way, it's the summation of His following burden, the basis for the rest of what He had to say to His disobedient, half-hearted people. This is what makes the rest of the book matter, what gives it context - these are words of love. Love from a Father who chastens every son whom He loves. But what was the response of Israel toward this loving Father?

“I have loved you,” says the Lord.
“Yet you say, ‘In what way have You loved us?’”

Oh, Israel.

Oh, my own heart.

In what way has He loved us? In every way. But this was not a question to recall to mind the faithfulness of the God who chose, protected, set apart ... this was the callous retort of a people made of faithless dust, with wandering hearts, with forgetful pride. People like me. People like you.  

“Your words have been harsh against Me,”
Says the Lord, 
“Yet you say,
‘What have we spoken against You?’
You have said,
‘It is useless to serve God;
What profit is it that we have kept His ordinance,
And that we have walked as mourners
Before the Lord of hosts?
So now we call the proud blessed,
For those who do wickedness are raised up;
They even tempt God and go free.’”
(Malachi 3:13-15)

I thought of how Jesus wept over Jerusalem, over the people who had ears, but would not hear. I wept now, too. This felt like a bitter ending to what could have been a love story. A tragedy of a beggar maid refusing the King who loved her. The words hurt to read. They hurt, because these are the children of Abraham - they should have been faithful.

I should be faithful.

But, even when we are faithless, still He is faithful. Still He is slow to anger. Still He abounds in lovingkindness.

“For I am the Lord, I do not change;
Therefore you are not consumed, O sons of Jacob.
Yet from the days of your fathers
You have gone away from My ordinances
And have not kept them.
Return to Me, and I will return to you,”
Says the Lord of hosts.
(Malachi 3:6-7)

Then those who feared the Lord spoke to one another,
And the Lord listened and heard them;
So a book of remembrance was written before Him
For those who fear the Lord
And who meditate on His name.
(Malachi 3:16)

There is the remnant. God always holds a remnant, who together make the whole. The remnant knows His voice, and follows Him. The remnant returns, and is redeemed. The remnant loves because He first loved us.

“They shall be Mine,” says the Lord of hosts,
“On the day that I make them My jewels.
And I will spare them
As a man spares his own son who serves him.” 
(Malachi 3:17)

They shall be Mine. This is the pledge of the Father who has loved Israel, has loved His Church. This is the pledge of the God who remains faithful when we are faithless. This is the pledge of the One who has seen it all, and yet redeems. And how does He redeem?  

I will spare them as a man spares his own son who serves him.

He spared His own people - His reckless, prodigal people - by not sparing His Son, His only Son, in whom He was well pleased. He has chosen, in His love and justice by Christ's death and resurrection, by Christ's blood, to see us as He sees Christ. Without spot or blemish. Joint heirs. Faithful. Beloved. His jewels. 

“I have loved you,” says the Lord.

Oh, my God, yes ... yes, You have.

Remember ... always.

He had been talking for a while. I had tried to interact, but at some point I lost track of what he was trying to express, and started only half listening. Meanwhile, the other half of me was busily thinking of this, that, and the other, and occasionally muttering an "Mmhm," in response to his expectant pauses as I walked behind his blue check shirt and wavy blonde hair. I followed behind him until in his boy-ish chivalry (and, more likely, enthusiasm) he opened the door for me to go outside with him.

I walked through without hesitation, but he stood there, still holding the door, and changed his tone so that suddenly I felt as if this was important, and needed my full attention.

"And remember!" He said, waiting to continue until my eyes had firmly locked with his - sparkling, blue, mischievous, and yet sincere. "I will always be your friend."

Unflinchingly, he kept his eyes focused on me - not as if waiting to give a punch line, or wondering if I'd thought he was silly, but boldly and reassuringly, yet wondering what my response might be.

At that point, I wished I had given his little self my full attention, and not been so quickly distracted by all the things around me, the things I had yet to do; but I realized that this was an opportunity - regardless of what had led to his statement, and regardless of how long a four-year-old truly believes "always" to be - to affirm the unconditional love that he had, who knows how purposefully, just expressed.

All I could think to say, and the best I could come up with to respond was to repeat his words back to him: "And you will always be my friend."

With that, he gave a confident smile, and we joined his sister and drew on the sidewalk until the last piece of chalk had been spent.

It was a moment, but moments are the things that define our lives. Moments are what we think about and ponder, and sometimes moments change the world.

The phrase this little friend chose to use reminded me of something much bigger than he or I could ever promise, but it's where we get the idea for these kind of statements. It's like something God has promised, something that He says to His children, unflinchingly and boldly, when our eyes have locked with His.

"Take, eat; this is My body which is broken for you; do this in remembrance of Me."
 
"I am with you always, even to the end of the age."

Remember ... always. Remember ... always.

They're the sort of words that you want to repeat, that bring an unexpected joy. And, while "always" may be an uncertain amount of time to a little boy, "always" with Christ means just that. And not only is He our friend, but by His blood and by His body He is our savior and our intercessor, who ever lives and pleads for us. Always.

Take heart, friends, and remember. Always.

Be Still My Soul

We sang "Be Still, My Soul" in worship last Sunday, and as we did, it occurred to me that I love this song. That sounds silly, perhaps, but it’s one I’ve been familiar with for most of my life, and sometimes we don’t give familiar things the sort of thought we should until one day we realize we love them. So, as we sang it through, and then for a little while after, I just pondered each line, section by section and word by word for a moment. And it was beautiful, peaceful.

I thought I would share with you in several parts (though, we all know by now how consistent I really am at posting here), some of my thoughts and meditations on these lines, and I encourage you to pause and think about them, too.

Be still, my soul, the Lord is on thy side….

Do you know how to be still? I think you do. Can you do it for just a moment? And, as you’re being still, and calming the restlessness of life that toils inside you, remember this: The Lord is on thy side.

Don’t just skim it, but rest your eyes on it, and rest your soul in the thought: The Lord is on thy side.

He is not far off, but near to those who draw near to Him. And He loves you, beloved child. He loves you. He would be willing to fight for you with His dying breath … and He did. His desire is not to fight against you, but to be a united front with you. If you are on His side, He is on your side.

Be still, and remember that.

Autumn's Breath

(Insert remarks and apologies about the extended time of silence.)

I wrote the following today as I looked out the window. It was the first day home after a long week on the east coast, visiting relatives and friends that feel like relatives. So much of a blessing to see them all, and so bittersweet to leave them behind to return home. And as I gazed out, I saw the bittersweetness that nature feels, too. Caught in this chaos between a previous Eden and a new one coming, longing for it all to be right again. And so with us, it joins the plea: Maranatha - O Lord, come.

Deep Soil, Bright Hope

"And for all this, nature is never spent."

After a long winter, there is nothing that refreshes all the senses so much as to walk barefoot through the garden, feeling the variance of grasses, stones, and soil - ah, such beautiful, soft soil. Running your hands through freshly tilled ground, taking in its fresh earthen smell, and letting your fingers feel the life in its velvety, deep promise.


Though we toil, still we reap. And in reaping, we find hope to do it all again.

Let us not become weary in doing good; in due time, we will harvest.

Closing the Book

Thank you all who have been praying for our family as we go through the process of shutting down our family business, Wellspring Christian Resources. This has definitely been an emotional roller coaster, but when I close my eyes on the loop-the-loops that scare me half to death, these thoughts give me hope to hold on:

1) Nothing can happen beyond the grasp of the hands of the Almighty, All-knowing God of the Universe - the very God who loves us, and gave His Son to make us joint heirs of riches worth more than anything this world can offer. Whatever He allows is ultimately for His glory and our good, and nothing can separate us from His love.

2) We have been so blessed with loving, faithful friends. Friends that come to the store to do what they can, friends who's hearts are aching with us, friends who are faithfully speaking with our Father in our behalf. Friends that will still be there for us even when it feels like everything else has fallen apart. And friends that remind us that our God will still be there - infinitely more faithfully than they can be. My knuckles are white from holding on to Him.

This Night of Sorrow

She seemed happy when she came in. She said it had been a while since she had been to our coffee shop, but she was in the area and ordering some books at the main part of the store, and had decided to stop over for an iced chai as long as she was there.

She told me about her upcoming wedding. I told her about my sister’s. She went on with some of the details, and we talked of bridesmaids, and buildings, and guest lists. But it was at the guest lists that our conversation took it’s unexpected, but so needed turn.

As of February 1^st, her guest list was reduced by one. One old friend. One friend from camp. One friend with whom many a fond and crazy memory was made. One friend whom the bride was anxious to see again, but who she now won’t be able to reconnect with for some time. One friend … who has left behind a husband, three children, and many other dear ones after a fatal car crash. Just one friend, but so many lives are now altered because of her absence from this world.

I didn’t know Becca personally, but I know some of her family, and was aware of her recent passing through posts I had seen on Facebook. I didn’t know this young woman who came into our coffee shop today, either, but I was able to connect with her and grieve with her because, like Becca, this lady is part of my Family. The three of us have the same Father, though Becca is the only one of us who has seen Him face to face so far.

I didn’t get the name of this sister who came my way today, but I’ll be praying for her just the same. We talked for a good while, and while the conversation didn’t stay just on the recent passing of her friend, I knew that that was why God had brought her by and why He had put me there, just waiting for her to come and open up her heart so that I, too, could open up mine.

Death is not a topic that many of us particularly want to talk or think too much about. However, today I talked about death. I thought about death. And as I spoke with my dear, hurting sister, I reminded myself of some important things about this unwelcome visitor called grief.

She had mentioned that she wasn’t sure if she should cry, or be so sad, since, after all, Becca is in Glory, and that’s something to rejoice about. I’ve thought those thoughts before, too, and wondered where the balance is for those of us who grieve with hope. But as I talked with her today, I heard myself answering some of my own questions as I tried to respond to hers. 

Yes, we can rejoice when a believer, by whatever means, is released from this body that is spoiled by the effects of the Fall. However, we can also grieve. Grieve, because something deep inside you knows that this is not how it should be. Grieve, because you know that death is a result of sin. Grieve, because this whole creation and your own soul long desperately for the day when Christ beats that final enemy, death. Grieve …. Not for Becca; for what really killed her – this Curse that was brought on by the sin of Adam, and has tainted and twisted everything ever since.

But, remember this grief is not without hope to those of us who have found our hope in Christ. Hope, because something deep inside you knows that though this world is fallen, it will be redeemed. Hope, because Christ has the power to save you and this whole world, whoever will call on His name, from the power of Hell. Hope, because you have confidence that in the flesh you shall see God, Who’s victory over death is certain. Hope, because though through this Curse we are subjected to futility and even death, God has turned even that most conquering enemy into His slave.

You see, if we never died, we would live forever in a sick, suffering, rebellious world. A world where perfection is impossible. A world where a veil separates us from the Face of God. A world that is fallen. We would be here forever, since God has created us to be eternal, living under every other aspect of the Curse for the rest of eternity, were it not for the provision of death.

And so, God, in His master plan that has spanned for eternities past and into eternities yet to come, created His own loop hole that only He had power to use. That, though dying we shall surely die, through Christ’s sacrifice on our behalf, now dying we shall surely live!

O death, where is your victory?! O hades, where is your sting?!

Because God has put death to shame, we can rejoice as we rub in its face every ounce of Christ’s victory on our behalf. We have hope, and nothing, not even death, can separate us from the hope that we find in the everlasting love of God toward us!

So take courage my friends. Find hope in your sorrow. Find joy in the pain. But don’t be afraid to grieve. Don’t be ashamed to cry. And don’t hesitate to hasten the day of the Lord.

“Therefore, since all these things will be dissolved, what manner of persons ought you to be in holy conduct and godliness, looking for and hastening the coming of the day of God, because of which the heavens will be dissolved, being on fire, and the elements will melt with fervent heat? Nevertheless we, according to His promise, look for new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells.” (1 Peter 3:11-13)

Maranatha. O Lord, come.

The People that Walked in Darkness

A Snowstorm Epiphany

We knew it was coming. For a week or so there were growing murmurs in the local news. Some were getting frantic, some giddy, and some were skeptical. However, any skepticism was dismissed when late Wednesday night it came. With all the gusto projected, a blizzard like this area hasn’t seen since 1996 came through, leaving behind a thick, silky, sparkling white coverlet for the leaf-barren trees and dormant grasses.

With a beautiful flurry it came, but it left some with piercing silence. No Christmas music playing on the radio. No clicking computer keys making note of final holiday preparations. No furnace warding off the chill of dropping temperatures. No power.

We were some of those left with that silence. At first you imagine it won’t last long – maybe a couple more hours without electricity, but surely the power company will get this straightened out soon. But then, morning passes … afternoon slips by … the evening whispers a quiet goodbye … and the darkness of night settles in. It makes itself at home, not just caressing corners, but covering whole rooms with its deep hued fingers. It spreads, starting at the back of each room then creeping up until it touches the window pane, and pushes out the last bit of afterglow, leaving everything black. Dark. Still.  

Hours into the darkness, the words of Isaiah flashed through my mind, and echoed for hours more: “The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light.” I’ve heard those words many times. For almost a year I would go to sleep listening to Handel’s Messiah, so when I think those words, I think them in song. But it was in a moment as I sat in the darkness that this hit me in a way I’m sure I can’t express: I’m part of that people. I lived in this darkness. The whole world sat it that darkness. This house was fractal representation of this world for a night. It was dark, yet because it was gradual in coming, our eyes adjusted. We could walk in the darkness, and, at moments, could even forget how dark it was. Yet there remained in each of us a longing for the light; a small turmoil and restlessness that groaned inside, eager for the dawn. 

The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined. (Isaiah 9:2) 

After nearly 36 hours, our power returned. Lights came on, music played, and warmth poured in from the vents again.  

But it was much longer that this whole world waited in darkness. And yet, the moment its Light came, the Darkness knew it had been dealt a death blow.  

But when the fullness of the time had come, God sent forth His Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, that we might receive the adoption as sons. (Galatians 4:4-5)

Indeed, we have seen a Great Light. The Light of all men. The Darkness cannot comprehend it, and it will surely never overcome it.

May your Christmas be gloriously joyful as you rejoice in the undying Light that shines on all men. 

In Him was life, and the life was the light of men.  And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it. That was the true Light which gives light to every man coming into the world. (John 1:4-5, 9)

"I Want to Stand My Ground Unshaken, But I Want to Tremble When I Kneel...."

I know this probably doesn't qualify as a real post, but I wanted to share this song with any of you who still bother checking my blog (I'm inconsistent, I know...). At any rate, here it is: "Let Me Sing" by Andrew Peterson. I hope you find it as beautiful and inspiring as I do.

P.S. - If you like this, I should let you know that he's coming out with a new album, "Light for the Lost Boy," later this month (that makes me do a happy dance inside). I haven't been let down by an album of his yet.

Oh...and I might know of a bookstore where his newest album will be available. ;)

It's The Way That You Do It

As Christians, we do a lot of the same things that world does: We eat. We sleep. We clean. We talk. But it's how we do them that shows we're different, set-apart, holy. It's good to remember that whatever our hand finds to do we should be doing it to the glory of God.

"Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart
Be acceptable in Your sight,
O Lord, my strength and my Redeemer."
(Psalm 19:14)

"If anyone speaks, let him speak as the oracles of God. If anyone ministers, let him do it as with the ability which God supplies, that in all things God may be glorified through Jesus Christ, to whom belong the glory and the dominion forever and ever. Amen."
(1 Peter 4:11)

What is Man?

Lord, what is man that You are mindful of him, or the son of man that You take care of him? 

We’re made a little lower than the angels, but called, elected, and adopted by God to become joint heirs in the riches promised to His Son, Jesus Christ. Jesus, the King of Angels, First Born from the dead; first, but not last. This is part of the inheritance He as the First Born has shared with us – the right to become Sons of God, the right to be raised again on the Last Day. Resurrected, never more to die, never more to be dying; as Jesus is, so we shall be. “And we shall be like Him – for we shall see Him as He is.” 

But what are men?

We’re the highpoint of Creation – the image of the Incorruptible God, yet we are corruptible. We’ve fallen, but unlike the Angels (who once fallen are irredeemable), You have chosen by Your good pleasure to redeem us, if only we call on Your name. There’s no price we can pay for our redemption, no lifetime would be long enough to work off this debt. Our hearts are prone to wander, prone to leave the God we love…. And yet, You want us. You teach us faithfulness at the cost of breaking Your own heart each time we forget faith. But You remember our frame, that we are but dust.

What is man?

Man is the image of God in faithless dust.

What is God?

God is the Faithful Creator of dust. Sustainer of all things living. The Savior of all things redeemed and yet to be redeemed.

Humbled, all I can say is, “Lord, what is man that You are mindful of him?”