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)