The Day After

The shepherds had left, returning to the fields to tend their sheep. The morning brought activity to the inns and markets and life returned to normal the day after. A Savior had entered the world. A night filled with glory unspeakable dawns with everyone returning to the mundane. . . finding food in the market. . . preparing meals. . . laundering the clothes. . .fishing the shorelines. . . completing the census. Life went on and what began as a moment of indescribable awe now bleeds into the ordinariness of needing to find food and shelter and the getting on with life. A night of holy pause to reflect on the God who had kept His promise, now melts into a daily life of living with the Christ-child. The Messiah, the Savior will be one of us. And because He is now one of us--a baby who looks like any other--I wonder if anyone noticed. Were Joseph and Mary frustrated that no one saw who He truly was. Sure, their family oohed and aahed over a beautiful new baby boy. But I wonder, did anyone at home bow down in holy awe? He looked so much like. . . like every other baby. The long awaited Messiah? That's the Messiah?

Two thousand years later. . .Our homes swell with excitement over the long awaited moment. We pause and we remember and we celebrate. He has come. Born of Mary. Our Immanuel. And the day after life goes on. . .we pick up the mess. . .we wash the dishes. . .we return to the usual. And yet He is still with us. Does anyone notice? Do I? Would I have thought that the very I AM would disguise Himself as a babe?

I wonder, after the moments when we pause to remember and to celebrate His coming. . . His with-us-ness. . . the day after . . .how do I still remember the Holy. . .where will I look for Him? Surely, He is with us. He took on human flesh--the best of disguises--and became one of us. God, you are so different from the world. So other. We look to the best the world has to offer and you are not there. You, God "chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise" (1Cor. 27) We pick our "best and brightest" to lead the nations. You chose a baby to usher in the greatest kingdom ever.

The day after, I need to remember to look for You in unexpected places. If You chose to make Your grand entrance in a Bethlehem stable, my guess is You will appear most often again in places I least expect. I expect to see you, Jesus in the grand sanctuaries we fill once a week. My guess is I'd find you more readily huddling with the world's forgotten. . .not just one day a week--but everyday.

The Gift

I thought I'd share a story with you--hopefully, in this season of wonder, I won't let the sheer astonishment of redemption through the most unlikely means fail to stir in me a hope of redemption in my own unlikely story. After all, if God used an impoverished baby born in obsecurity to usher in the grandest, most everlasting kingdom--to redeem the curse-- there's simply no telling what He'll use in my life--and yours- to "repay the years the locusts have eaten---" (Joel 2:25). So, Hope is allowing me to tell her story. Its a beautiful illustration of redemption. I feel as though I know it well enough to tell it in first person. And no, the irony of a name is not lost on me, either. So, the story--I'll tell it as if its my own.

I have not been this upset in a long time. So much so that by the time I hung up the phone with Mom my face had completely broken out with an acne rash. Great, now I'm pissed off and I look like I have some contagious disease. On my face. That's hard to hide. Probably easier than the fury that I'm feeling,though. Every single holiday offers my older sister the opportunity to find creative ways to hurt others in the family. Before I completely explode in rage and berate those closest I know I need to call our closest family friend, Joshua. Joshua has been a mentor to Jake and I since we were first married. Surely, with as many years of living as he has acquired--he could offer some advice. You don't get to be 81, deeply love Jesus, and not have wisdom. So I called. He must have heard the exasperation in my voice because the first thing he said was, "calm down, Hope-- it surely isn't as bad as you sound."

"Really?" I almost yelled. Then, in one venomous spew, I rehashed years of grievances against my sister. Most recently, she had proceeded to cause further family division by hosting a Halloween costume party and only inviting half the family. . . she constantly changed our family's traditions on a whim to suit her own passive-aggressive tendencies. . . she lies constantly, don't even get me started about the lies. I have never known anyone that self centered, except----I don't know how long the diatribe went on but Joshua listened intently, even seeming concerned, which by the time I was all wound up I was sure had to be insincere because who in their right mind would care about this kind of crap. I was over it. And I made that clear. I was done trying to function as a "normal" family--over it!! OVER IT!! Nobody should force themselves to get together for a fake family Christmas when deep inside you really want to cuss another family member out. Okay, maybe not cuss (surely Christians can stand above the fray on this). . . no, come to think about it, some people only understand a good cussing. . .

"When did this start" Joshua's fragile words jolted me out of my monologue.

"What do you mean when did this start" I said. "It's been going on for years. . .she just keeps getting more creative with her ways of hurting us."

Joshua speaks softly, "this time, Hope. When did this anger surface this time? What happened?"

"I was recently reminded of a couple of events, that's all. But its a long story and I'm sure the other person didn't mean anything by it. . . and I just kept mulling it over. Weird--really, sorta out of nowhere. . . and I couldn't let it go" I sighed realizing my culpability in the current family drama.

Sensing my pause, Joshua continued, "Then what did you do?"

I explained to Joshua that I had simply called Sam (my younger brother) and our Mom and explained what all had happened, though none of it was new. But my anger was new and I wasn't sure now, talking to Joshua, why that was. With just a few questions he was making me question the cause of this fury. All of this stuff had happened weeks ago. Why now was I so "over it"? I was justified and Mom and Sam agreed. Our sister was selfish and she lied and everything I spewed out had validation. Sure, Jesus said to forgive. He said to leave your gift at the alter and go be reconciled--but He also said to shake the dust off your feet if those around you don't accept His message. . .surely that's applicable here. The next words that broke the silence nearly sent me over the edge and I wasn't sure whether to hang up the phone or cuss Joshua out.

"Let it go, Hope. . .let it go" then he was silent.

"Let it go?. . . I'll be damned if I'll let it go. I went through this for years with my dad and I swore then and I swear now no one else in my life is going to be allowed". . . I had to trail off before I could no longer choke back the sobs.

"Thank Him for this gift", he whispered.

What in the hell is wrong with this man. Joshua have you been drinking? Are you that senile? What?

He continued, "Hope, do you remember the story of Joseph?" What, an old testament Bible lesson. I could give a crap about Joseph or Abraham or Isaac or any of that right now!

"Yes, Joshua I've heard that story since I was a child. . .but really right now I just need"

"Quiet, child. . .listen to me. God gave Joseph a gift, and to everyone around-- even Joseph-- it seemed like God had cursed him. One calamity--one injustice after another. But God was using those "injustices" to save a family-- to save Joseph. I know what your thinking, Hope. Of course you think you would do things differently. Our pride convinces us we know better than God".

"So your saying that if I endure this crap I'll eventually rule over a lot of folks and be the hero of this messed up family--like Joseph?" I said, sarcasm dripping.

"Probably not, Hope" he was always gracious and kind.

"I'm simply saying that you don't yet know the end of the story-- you don't know how God is going to work it out. But He is, Hope and He's working it out for your good. And your sister's'".

"So, what should I do? Are you saying that I need to continue to let her walk all over me, and our mom?"

"As hard as this will be, you must give up trying to work this out. You must release your grip. Give God the opportunity to defend you. Simply love--the way Jesus loves you. Outcomes are up to God--to work out in His was and in His time. Remember, Job didn't know the whole story and chances are--you don't either. You know Hope, your sister is not the only sinner in all this".

"I know Joshua. . . I stir up strife. I rehearse the pain from years of . . . I'm not sure how to heal. . I need to move forward . . . to find my all in His love for me, not. . .

"Hope, even now God wants to offer you a gift in this, while you wait for Him to complete His work."

"Really, what's the gift?" I ask. . . certain that if it's anything like Joseph's I don't want it.

"Hope, you always remind me that one of your least favorite points of theology is the 'fellowship of His sufferings', right?

"Yes, Joshua if I could clip those verses from Holy Writ, you know I would."

"Well that you can't Hope, not safely anyway," he chuckled "but you can accept the gift. . .you can identify with Jesus in feeling misunderstood and rejected. Jesus' most intense suffering was not the physical beatings He took. . .it was the soul beating of friends. His family. His own wouldn't even receive him, remember? God's "workers"--those who should have recognized Him--the priests. . . they conspired to kill Him. And certainly I don't want you to over dramatize this hurt. There is much more suffering in the world than this. Peter couldn't drink the cup that Jesus had to drink and Hope. . ."

"I know, Joshua I couldn't-- I wouldn't--- even take a sip" I said, tears streaming.

"Just take the gift, and thank the Giver. If you can thank Him in this then Satan's power is lost. You acnowledge He redeems. You live the fact that He is your redemption, Hope. I need to go now. But I believe that your Enemy brought this up for a reason. You'll need to figure that one out with the help of Jesus. But I'm confident, Hope that soon you'll call me and shout, 'Joshua Satan meant that hurt to harm me. . . but Joshua, God used it to accomplish. . . ' I look forward to hearing what it is".

"Are you kidding me Joshua?. . . you think I would yell and get all dramatic. . .?"

We both burst out in laughter.

"Merry Christmas, Hope."

"Merry Christmas, Joshua. . . give my love to your family".

The baby born--the God-child comes. And we sing:

No more let sins and sorrows grow,

Nor thorns infest the ground;

He comes to make His blessings flow

Far as the curse is found.

(Isaac Watts)

If your family is feeling the effects of sin and sorrow. He comes. And you will feel His Presence.

Merry Christmas,

Wondering down the road,

Joy

The Understated

I often have a love--deep dislike relationship with the church, or better put churches. I could never say love-hate because well, I could never hate the broken, untrustworthy institution that is simply that because of me and others like me, of course. And I don't know that I could ever be as bold as St. Augustine who said, (referring to the Church) "she is a whore, but she is my Mother." The Church universal is a beautiful thing because she is the Bride of Christ, she belongs to the Beloved and He makes her beautiful. The earthy, fleshy--working out of that reality can be an ugly thing and cause untold hurt. Which is probably why we hold back. . .we retreat. . . we only attend some. . . pain does that--doesn't it. . .forces us to defend our hearts---

None of which is central to my thoughts this evening. But I've been known to digress a time or two and ramble on. So, when the Lord woke me one night out of a dead sleep with the thought pounding in my heart "December 11th". Me all groggy and sleepy, "huh, Lord?" then "go to church". . .this is weird even for me. . . immediately, I questioned and rolled around thoughts of "where. . . I think Alivia has a ballet performance at some church?. . .the church we've been visiting?". . . I don't find that God hangs around for my internal dialogue. . . sure, He's there but He's "spoken" and the rest . . .well. . .

So, I kid you not, I journal about this . . . I talk to spouse about it (though no others)--R tends to be okay when I think God is leading me one way. . .'cause sometimes I'm so wrong that I cry and pitch a fit. . .and really, its ugly. Trust is hard--even on this journey. I get that. So, I'm all thinking that God is gonna do the miraculous--and I'm pretty sure it's probably going to be spectacular and since my present need tends to be clarification on areas of "serving God" (as if he needs me, but never mind my fat ego for a minute) I have all manner of vain imaginings swirling around my mind. It's Henry Blackaby's fault, actually --Experiencing God is so life changing that now I'm--lookin' for where He's working--then fear--Lord, a new word, really. Don't laugh. R humors me and with great anticipation we head to church. I'm all nervous. . .him too, I suspect.

Panic sets in--really, the title of the sermon series is something about Christmas songs. Surely, I'm not going to have to bear the exegesis of The First Noel --which after all wouldn't be exegesis, now would it? Please Lord, the western Church has got to be deeper that this. Kidding. So I immediately pen a note to R about how this time I was "wrong again". . . but secretly I'm hoping God has sent a disguised angel to give me a "word of direction". . . I do dearly love planning for God-- how He can fulfil His word to me, surely I know exactly what I need and what He meant for me, anyhow. Exhale. Breathe deeply.

Then, when no one was suspecting. . .God broke forth with an amazing chorus of angels, brightly dressed. . .eyes blinded. . .shattering glass of the sanctuary. . .a word in a heavenly voice, "my child this is my will for you". . . I faint outright.

Uh, not really--not even close. I expected skies split, lightening sent forth, fire from heaven. . . words spoken from an ass (wait, He does that ----with me!). . .instead ---

. . .He sent the ordinary. A pastor doing what he does every Sunday. Preaching. Teaching. . .

. . . A baby born in a manger. A mother doing what mother's do. Loving. Holding the vulnerable. .

Extraordinary though, when God takes the usual and infuses it with Himself. For that man who stood before the congregation on Sunday, he broke the bread and Jesus. . .no, the pastor. . .no, Jesus fed my hungry soul. As pastor spoke words that were scrolling through my mind . . . he read them, my mind to his touch pad. . .and I, broken and in need, cowering to an enemy who so often does soul damage with threatening words. Soul fear. . .a life held back. . .just, in case.

. . . An angel of heavenly hosts praising God. . . shepherds?. . .really, no crowds and dignitaries. . .

. . .A word of life breathed into a soul. . .one small congregation. . .really, more should hear this. .

And really are we suprised that the world laughs? Our belief that something so common could change all our yesterdays. . . our tomorrows. How a baby could rewrite the course of human history, by reworking the human heart. Really? How God reworks a life--writing His love more often on "tablets of human hearts" than across the skies. His wonder and amazement shown through a man who speaks of. . .

Shalom. . . Eirene. . .Peace

Jesus walks through my world today just like he did so many years ago. Offering peace in the ordinary. . . the commonplace. . . in the stores and sanctuaries, the farms and factories, to the stay-at-home mom or the CEO, the burger joint worker or the football star--walking through life. . .offering Himself. . .an exchange--- my life for His. Grace sufficient for today. Peace for today. All I need I have in Him--today.

I walk away with hope and I am changed.

One step further,

Joy

,

The Bread of Freedom

Amidst the headache I am harboring due to my self-imposed dietary restrictions, I pleaded for a word. A word of freedom from the tyranny that is my lack of self-control. Most presently, it's in the area of food related indulgence. But really, it could have been one of many. Can you relate? Shopping?. . .Gossiping? . . .Lying?. . .A general lack of self-control--area non-specified? GLSC, yep, that's me. I sighed deeply. . . realizing that my reading today, from the gospel of Mark, would probably speak more to the events leading up to Jesus' death----and what really does that have to do with dieting, or lack of self-control for that matter?!? Discouraged. . . and still with a headache. I ponder a while over who the two men are that help Jesus and his disciples prepare for His last Passover. Nothing. . . good thought material though-- but nothing to address my present distress. For reasons unbeknownst to me, I continue reading on as Jesus offers the bread and the cup-----how the bread is His body, broken for us. . . and I peruse Exodus and learn that Jehovah instituted a "lasting ordinance"-- a remembrance, and He tells them before they leave. . . .then death comes and our ancestors are rushed from Egypt. . . so quickly that "the people took their dough before the yeast was added, and carried it on their shoulders in kneading troughs"(Exodus 12:34). . .and I too, rushed quickly from the house and thankful for the Passover and for the Lamb but without the gnawing hunger filled.

Later, Jesus gently whispers, "this is my body, broken for you" . . .Him holding the bread, hand extended to me . . .and I remember---- the bread eaten as they escaped slavery. . . and really, Joy the only way to escape slavery is by eating--- this bread--my Presence. It is Me. The Word as food. . . learning that you won't truly live until you feast on Me.

When you "take and eat", then the bread you eat will not only be the bread of escaping slavery, but the Bread of Life. . .life that is truly living. When I fill your soul----when I daily fill your soul, then Satan's strangle-hold is released and you are free. . . free to follow Me.

So driving up the hill from my busyness I learn . . . to come and follow, for your Yoke is easy and Your burden light. . .and soul-hunger is only satisfied by You.

One step further down the road,

Joy

Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful Boy

The words to a John Lennon tune are rolling through my mind. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy. I gave birth to the first of two darling boys --seven years ago today! Did I say that? My first man-child. The prettiest "at-birth child". Ahem, most handsome. The easiest to parent. . .for the first year. . .then the most difficult (though others are giving him a run for his money) for the next three. Now, we've hit a stride and it is pure joy. The hardest (I think) to birth--let's see. Two days of five minute a part contractions, a military hospital, equipped with nurses in combat boots. That's no joke, ya'll. Funny later--not at the time. Military births. . . how to put it--uh, let's just say, I swore if I ever had to do it again--that way, I'd just give birth at home.

He is my promised child. My miracle birth and the story still gives me chills if I think about it. But its a long story and one for a post to itself. . .later.My son, your Momma is flat-- so thankful that God would trust your life to us for these years 'til I don't know what to do. We are so much alike. We do life full on--out loud! And if our on isn't full--well, we are still LOUD! Your joy for life and enthusiasm make me want to think up new things for you to discover. You love Jesus well. When you decided to follow Him, after we discussed that you could still have a cool car and follow Jesus--you started "running the race" with all out abandon! Seeing a seven year old talk about loving God and Jesus "the most" makes me understand why Jesus loves children so much. You are my "bear hunter-- not butterfly catcher" (its a family story). My beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy. I love you more than you will ever know.

Love,Momma

He Is Present

He is present. He is---and sometimes in the race to feed five kids, plan school lessons, run to ballet, soccer, piano--just to survive this day--I forget. . .I forget that the reason I'm so tired is because He is gracious enough to wake me in the middle of the night to give me "hidden treasures of wisdom and knowledge" (Col. 2:3). He is kind enough to remind me that obedience is not figuring out how to do what God has assigned me as my job. . . no, obedience is allowing God to do what "He has purposed to do through me". (Experiencing God, Blackaby) He uses the most unusual means to announce He's here. The children who constantly need something. . .He's disguising Himself in them. The spouse who needs to be made a priority or just simply needs my smile. Yes, Lord you know how to hide. But You're here, aren't You. . . You are Present in this mess working out redemption in the most unusual spaces. A dirty kitchen, messy bedrooms, more errands than time. . .funny Jesus, this isn't the way I pictured "rebuilding the ancient ruins and restoring the places long devestated"(Isaiah 61). You remind me that those closest to you didn't understand that You were building a kingdom--not with weapons and rebellion and war and power ---but instead with a robe removed, hands reaching out to wash dirty feet and an assigment as simple as "feed my sheep". How Lord, are you going to make beauty from what the world calls wasted. A wasted life some would say, staying home to wipe snotty noses and comb tattered hair and washing dirty jeans . . .You are rebuilding the generations and one day I will see--and it will be wonderful in my eyes.

Because You are here, you have "pitched Your tent" in the midst of us --just as promised.

Obedience

I've been informed by sources (which shall remain nameless, but look an awful lot like yours truly) that the font I'm posting in is really difficult to read and may or may not show punctuation marks. Oh no, not that, I thought!! I shall have my techie (Rob) fix this as soon as he can fit it in to his schedule.

So I've been thinking alot about obedience here lately. My lack thereof namely. And it seems that if we are to follow Jesus at all we must take obedience seriously. So, I'm stuck in a quandry. Bear with me here, as I realize following Jesus doesn't fit into "twelve simple steps for following closely". . . I'm grinning at the thought. But I need a little encouragement, so the following lists are for me and if you happen to have an obedience issue as well. . . then I hope you can find some encouragement. Please add to each list as you see fit.

List #1 Why I Choose To Disobey (that includes delaying obedience)

1. FEAR

This is a biggie for me. I've lived the better part of my life in fear of something. And if life doesn't afford me good enough reason to fear, then I'll just use my vain imagination and create something to chaw on. Really. It's pitiful if not somewhat hysterical that Eve fell for this in the garden and I've been following suit for as long as I can remember.

2. RATIONALIZING

Surely you don't want me to do that? Really, I can't because. . . I'm to short, fat, skinny, dumb, tall. . . uh, picture Moses refusing to go and participate as God sets the Hebrews free. Can you imagine--God declaring that He is going to perform "sign and wonders" before their very eyes and all Moses can think about is his stutter!! Yeah, that's me!

3. PRAYING ABOUT IT

Sounds so spiritual, doesn't it? Who doesn't think this is necessary? Only problem is, God would call my delay--disobedience!! Sure I need to pray and if need be ask for clarification. . .but if in fact my "praying" is delaying--I need to move out in obedience!!

4. DISCOURAGEMENT

I should guard against this--and fear. Isn't that what God repeatedly tells the children of Israel. . .do not be afraid, do not be discouraged. . . He says it over and over. The problem is-- I think I'm discouraged with the whole journey because instead of being obedient to the call Jesus says is for me, I'm running around after the good. Looks like a good project--even a church project--BAM! I say okay. And I'm tired. T-I-R-E-D. Then, I get discouraged!

5.SELFISH

For me, as humiliating as it is--I just plain don't want to be obedient, because it will cost me something. There is a sacrifice in following Jesus--that's what the Word tells me. . . there is no resurrection life without there first being a cross. And I don't like that theology. It invades my "comfy-all-about-me" created space. Lord, don't call me from my comfort zone, there is football and shopping and eating--yes, EATING to be done!!

Sadly, I could go on. . .and on. . . and on. . . but the truth is--Jesus is always more glorious, more wonderful and I need to find the reasons I should obey. Oh, I hope you'll add to the list. It would so encourage me!!

List #2 REASONS I SHOULD OBEY JESUS WITHOUT DELAY

1. He Is Lord

Really, I can't call Him Lord and not obey. It would sorta be an oxymoron. If He is Lord--then I obey. First century followers would have gotten this. I don't. They knew what Paul's language meant when he says he is a slave to Jesus. I don't get the language, so I write it off as metaphor.

2. Jesus Promises To Come and Dwell

Incredible!! Really, the promise of Jesus is that He and the Father would come and make their home with me if I but obey. Scholars tell us, it is language along the lines of "I will pitch my tent among you". Yes, I could use Jesus living among this mess.

3. Answered Prayer

Without the space (and the theological expertise) this topic requires, I will only say briefly that the Word from cover to cover shouts that if we but obey, surrender self and follow--our prayers would be answered. (See John 14-17, Jeremiah 33, Isaiah 58) I need answered prayer. I get really tired of praying and nothing. Dry bones. Trying to be honest here--I get weary when I call and it seems He doesn't answer.

4. Finding Life

Lose my life to find the life that is truly living--wild and free! It seems counter intuitive, seems wrong. . .a culture screaming otherwise. . . but the voice I love says, "Joy, believe me"--find joy. . . find Joy.

5. Having Joy

I wish a name was a guarantee. Only His is-- He is the only guarantor of joy. And if I want it, (which oh, how I do) then I must obey. . . follow. . .obey. . . we keep walking the long road of simple obedience.

6. Pleasing God

He declared to Saul that obedience is better than sacrifice. Living a life of obedience is pleasing to our God. While I'll be honest in saying that this hasn't always been enough for me, I hope one day it will. I hope one day I will long to obey simply because it will delight my Father.

7. He Shall Reveal More

If I want more of Him, more knowledge of the Holy One, more experiences of His presence, I can't squander what I've been given. Isn't that what Jesus meant when He said that to him who has--- more will be given. If I want the secrets of the kingdom--I need to live in, abide in, live out what I already know to be truth.

8. A Life That Bears Much Fruit

We were created in Him, to bear much fruit. A life that is pleasing to the Lord is a life lived out in faithful obedience. Perhaps bearing fruit would cure some of my restless disillusionment with life. Simple obedience just might lead to the answer to one of life's most often asked question, "what is God's will for my life"? Perhaps God is saying, "I'm trying to show you--but you must obey". You're getting today's plan, not the ten year plan you so want! Hmmmm

9. Obey as a Way to Learn Trust

It really is the only way to learn trust, isn't it? I believe He will be faithful tomorrow because He's been faithful today. We survived that storm together, Lord . . . so maybe we'll just make it through the next. Finding He is able to keep that which I've committed.

10. Remembering I was Created for This

This wild ride. . . I was created for it. . . I was created to obey and follow and live the great adventure. No, life isn't how it was in the garden. He's working that out though-- in the meantime, until the storm of this life is calmed completely--He simply calls me to step out and walk on the water with Him.

I so hope I will.

I Joined a Monastery

Uh, not really. But apparently God has planned for me a quasi-monastic life and I. . . I was yet unaware. Do you ever feel trapped by the monotony almost to the point of disillusionment? I mean we wake up, we EAT (which means I cook or my beloved makes peanut butter, honey) say that sorta sing-songy as my two-yea- old Solomon does. . . we clean up (or not), we do laundry, we do chores (though by the looks of it--that ain't happnin'), we EAT, we do school, we EAT, we run here, there and yon. . .we crash on the weekends, grab a spot on the couch and . . .yep, you guessed it-- EAT. Which leads me to the conclusion that all we really do is eat. And today, my soul is resounding with a big, fat ---for what? What is all this monotony about?

Of course, God has an answer and it came through the comments to a most wonderful post over at the Living Proof blog. The gist of the comment (which was from a nun) is that monastic life is designed to be monotonous so that we push through to something deeper--God barging through and revealing Himself right there in the kitchen when we are scrubbing the tile floors for the upteenth time this month! God, whispering His love as you bend over to change another diaper. Its funny really, cause I fight this usually. . .preferring instead to find another "high". . . another shot of all-things God to quench my addiction to the thrill-filled life. Perhaps Jesus is least present there. Perhaps it isn't Jesus at all, but the fake tossed out by the Enemy because he's pretty sure that some of us would rather "go for the glory" than to take off our robe and wash another's feet. Or scrub another toilet. Maybe that's why Jesus told Peter to get behind him--He was addressing Satan. . .so each time I long for my way. . .a kingdom of my own. . .castles (or fabulous book deals) I have built. . . just maybe I'll listen as Jesus says, I arranged this life for you. . .because it is here that you can find Me. . .here where you can follow Me---then my joy will be in you and your joy will be full.

Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful Boy

The words to a John Lennon tune are rolling through my mind. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy. I gave birth to the first of two darling boys --seven years ago today! Did I say that? My first man-child. The prettiest "at-birth child". Ahem, most handsome. The easiest to parent. . .for the first year. . .then the most difficult (though others are giving him a run for his money) for the next three. Now, we've hit a stride and it is pure joy. The hardest (I think) to birth--let's see. Two days of five minute a part contractions, a military hospital, equipped with nurses in combat boots. That's no joke, ya'll. Funny later--not at the time. Military births. . . how to put it--uh, let's just say, I swore if I ever had to do it again--that way, I'd just give birth at home.
He is my promised child. My miracle birth and the story still gives me chills if I think about it. But its a long story and one for a post to itself. . .later.
My son, your Momma is flat-- so thankful that God would trust your life to us for these years 'til I don't know what to do. We are so much alike. We do life full on--out loud! And if our on isn't full--well, we are still LOUD! Your joy for life and enthusiasm make me want to think up new things for you to discover. You love Jesus well. When you decided to follow Him, after we discussed that you could still have a cool car and follow Jesus--you started "running the race" with all out abandon! Seeing a seven year old talk about loving God and Jesus "the most" makes me understand why Jesus loves children so much. You are my "bear hunter-- not butterfly catcher" (its a family story). My beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy. I love you more than you will ever know.

Love,
Momma

The Hurried Life

I am beginning to realize that the frenzied pace with which I seem to run my life is perhaps the antithesis to truly following Jesus. The problem is I don't seem to know how to stop. Sure, I get the whole just-drop-a-bunch-of-stuff from the calendar speech that my husband vomits out at me when I'm whining about having to take Kindness and Goodness to one more activity. But the truth is, I want them to know that they have gifts. Gifts given by God. For Him to use in serving His other children. I want them to know that I am committed to helping God grow these gifts in them. . .then sending them out to use them for His glory. It just seems in our whole post-modern (whatever that really is), suburbia, very-removed-from-the-truly-needy life that I spend my days running from activity to activity without truly engaging anyone other than my little party of seven (okay, we're not so little). Even a surface perusal of scripture reminds me that Jesus is heading straight to those in need--the hurting, hungry, poor and imprisoned. My life seems to be heading straight to the gymnastics, ballet, soccer lessons or what-have-you. No clear answer . . . but this is on my mind. . .

The Desert Fathers and really saints down through history would tell me to practice the spiritual disciples. Not to earn favor with God, heaven forbid (which it did). It is grace alone. But those disciplines help me extend a bit of effort to do that which I could not otherwise do. Follow Jesus. Hear His voice. Love God wholeheartedly.

The most often repeated (at least in the books that have crossed by path) seems to be solitude and silence.

I have a house full of kiddos--two still in diapers. Any suggestions on this one?. . . to be continued

The Cross as a Gift

When I come to Him because I know "He has the words of eternal life", that He is my way back to the Father, He forms the cross-life in me. He gives me the Words of eternal life and forms in my soul a cross and I fight it. I pitch a fit over it. I don't know that without a cross I don't have an empty tomb. No resurrection life. I don't find my life--I simply lose it. I lose it in the years that I've bowed down to a golden image with my face on the head. Crafted by my own hands. He loves me too much. Won't let it go. So, painfully for me, He leaves the words spoken. Promises I think mean one thing. My thing. And I'm wrong. I fight, I cry, I wrestle with God. I let go, but He hangs on. Hangs on until He can bless me. Until I'm ready. I don't understand this until much later. Years later. The cross as me shedding my own way. The plans that I conceived and wrangled, thinking He meant what I wanted.

I could never have imagined. My mind could not have conceived what He had planned. Me, thinking so small. He, wanting to do "more than I can ask or imagine". The cross that I carry daily is so that He can live the resurrection life through me. My soul knows this truth. Jesus, you lived this---". . .who for the joy set before Him, endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God" (Heb. 12:2).

Peter, when I read about how the last days with Jesus on earth went, my heart aches for you. You-- ready for a rebellion. Usher in the kingdom. God calling down ten-thousand angels to fight--Old Testament style. You believed. Yet, you had no idea. I would have cursed and swore too that night (Mark 14:71). My heart would have broke. So wrong. Could you have even imagined what was in store for you three days later? I would have jumped outta that boat and nearly drowned flopping my way to the shore. I imagine you knocked the Savior half- over when you saw Him eating fish by the fire. He wanted to give you more than you could have ever dreamed. Different than your plans? I'd say. The cross is our way to the resurrection life. Yours and mine, Peter. . .yours and mine

Funny thing, I almost thought I heard Peter say, 'I got to see the stone the builders rejected, become the cornerstone'. . . (probably my imagination) but laugh if you will, I did echo back 'and it is marvelous in our eyes' (Matt 21:42)

What's Your Hurry

Ever stop and wonder why the disciples and those following Jesus always "rebuked" (I supposed our words would be "fussed-at") those folks who needed Jesus. It seems they were indignant at all the beggers who simply wanted to be touched, healed, noticed, or cured of some horrible affliction. They didn't seem to like it any better when the snotty-nosed kids crawled all over Him either. I'm sure insensed hardly covered it when he called one of those same youngins' to the front and made a public example of him (or her).

We can't know for sure, but don't you get the feeling, as we go along with the Men of Twelve that they seem to have an agenda. They seem to be looking forward to something. And though the Master has talked of carrying crosses and serving one another as a means of greatness--I think they have yet to get past their notion of the coming Kingdom. In fairness, I'm sure if I lived during this time I would have liked nothing more than riding victoriously through the streets of Jerusalem crushing some Roman legionnaire under the hoof of my mighty steed. Heck, I'd probably been so vengeful I would've taken some pleasure in an entire empire's demise.

In Mark 10, right before Jesus rides the colt into Jerusalem, we read as some folks in a large crowd (which included the twelve) rebuke a man for wanting to have his sight restored. You get the feeling that the whole group was thinking--"Shut up, Mister--we've got to get on with this if we are ever going to see our beloved Israel rise to glory--as in the days of Solomon".

Yet Jesus, always stops. He. . .always. . .stops. . .and. . .takes. . .His. . .time. . .to. . .love. . .on. . . .one. No kingdom coming is more important than the one. Actually, the kingdom coming is the one. . .then the next and so on. They didn't seem to get this. But neither do I. Neither do I.

I, too follow along wishing that those nearby with a need would just leave me alone for a minute. Just one minute of peace, PLEASE?!? I have an agenda--this must GET DONE!!!

But these interruptions to my plans are Divinely ordained. They are Jesus peaking through reminding me that the kingdom never comes in the power of my wisdom,planning, conspiring or demanding. The kingdom comes by stopping to love on the one who is needing me. To kiss a boo boo. To "put some cream on it". To "come see me do _____________".

Jesus, help me follow. Help me stop and meet the needs of those You have placed right in front of my face, even though I admit Lord, at times they are the ones I least want to serve.

"May you be covered with the dust of our Rabbi" (paraphrased, yet again).

Oh, as I live and breathe, children make me laugh. Out loud. Right now, I’m laughing at three of
mine. The twins, Love and Faithfulness are announcing who they are. Faithfulness
is repeating, ‘I’m a boy. I’m a boy’. Love, just said, ‘I’m a princess.’ Thinking.
. . No, ‘I’m ballet’ (not a ballerina—mind you, but ballet). Standing with her
hands extended straight to heaven and turning in a circle, she looks more like
a one girl wave than a ballet. You know the kind--picture doing the wave in a
stadium, only by yourself, so you gotta go ‘round and ‘round and ‘round. Smile.
The other, Kindness is composing a song on the piano. Ouch. I think
original composition must be more difficult than basic piano. The other two, Goodness
and Self-control are hiding. Outta sight usually means mischief (note to self).

Which reminds me—WELCOME—and in the spirit of Love and Faithfulness--
I’ll announce who I am-- I am Gooseberry. Which explains the blog-name,
right? The “inTN” part is of course, self-explanatory—any guesses as to my
state of origin? Did you guess Tennessee? Er . . .Err. . .Error. My state of
origin is the womb, I guess or ‘the heart of God’ --perhaps that’s more
theologically accurate. Yucca, yucca, laugh, laugh. My humor also wanes when
I’ve been at home with the fruit too long. I’m a fruit-loop!

Seriously,I am so excited to dedicate this space to exploring what it means to listen for the voice of Jesus and follow as He leads. Along the way, we’ll probably talk homeschool (‘cause
we do that), weight-loss (hopefully mine), and a myriad of other interesting
topics; but primarily I hope to journey with you as we follow Him together.
Perhaps we can be like the original twelve. Okay, not realistic. . . though I do believe we can do what God has ordained before He spoke the world into being for a bunch of 21st
century, affluent Christians inhabiting our towns these days. We can journey
together. I hope you’ll not just read (though I hope someone other than my Mom
does that, ‘cause I’m not sure she is adept enough in computer technology to
leave comments), but I hope we can link up and share the journey. Truly though, I am a beginner-- at whole-heartedly following Jesus and at blogging. You see, to be a Christian for 30 years or so, doesn’t necessarily make one a follower. I’m afraid, like so many here in my comfortable, Western, ‘have-it-your-way-right-away’ lifestyle, I’ve devoted more time to amassing mountains of theology than to taking up a cross and following the One I claim to love. (Though man, I do know what I believe). And by-golly it is orthodox, with a capital ‘O’. But Jesus
didn’t ask me to be sure of my theological orthodoxy to usher in His kingdom.
He asked me to take up a cross and follow. So that’s where I am these days.
Wanting desperately to follow the Living One. He’s still breathing life into
anyone willing. . .to . . .follow. I do hope you’ll join me. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll learn some technology skills as we go along, ‘cause I got my eye on some blogs I dearly hope will ‘like’ me enough to put this blog in the favorites column. Smiling!

*Until tomorrow, “May you follow so closely that you are covered in the dust of the Rabbi”.
(paraphrased from an ancient Jewish prayer)

**Come back tomorrow and I’ll introduce the “fruit” and tell you why I’m a gooseberry!