You Know That I Love You
-
As I’ve immersed myself in the Gospel of John the past month or so I’ve
realized that the lesson Jesus taught his disciples is the same one He is
trying to...
1 year ago
Friday, December 16, 2011
Monday, December 20, 2010
The Paradox of Christmas
What is Christmas to you? Many say it’s the most wonderful time of the year, a time of gift-giving and receiving, of family get-togethers and magic for children. As Christians, we try oh, so hard to keep our focus on the real purpose of our celebration, Jesus’ birth. We’re seduced, tempted, force-fed, and literally drowned in commercialism that says, “buy this, give that, spend more, indulge, and go ahead and eat another cookie!”
But what about when you don’t feel like any of this? I had a long talk with a good friend yesterday about the sadness and loneliness that grips so many at this time of year. Life doesn’t stop at Christmas-time, and death, disease, divorce, and despair continue their onslaught unaware of the holiday cheer that we’re supposed to feel.
The paradox behind Christmas is that this state of mind may be the best way to fully embrace Christmas’ promise. When we are the most empty inside, dried up from over-achieving, lonely and barren - it is then we have room in the “inn” for Christ. There is a vacancy in our hearts that is only for Jesus. Many times over the last year I’ve felt like I have nothing left. It is this dependency and helplessness that forces me to look outside myself for courage and strength to face another day. I think the Wise Men traveled with this same hunger, looking for someone who would bring peace into their worlds.
Another friend of mine gave me a handout yesterday which lists of the gifts we have in Jesus. Salvation, peace, forgiveness, grace, mercy, compassion, strength, courage, direction, etc. This list was very long, much longer than my list of “wants.” I looked back over my year and realized how many of His gifts I received without a simple “thank you” being spoken. And yet He keeps on giving. What a loving Father.
The promise for us all is echoed in Isaiah’s words, “At that time the deaf will hear...the blind will see…The castoffs of society will be laughing and dancing in God, the down-and-outs shouting praise to The Holy of Israel.” Christmas is an invitation to be still, open and welcoming to what can be, Christ, our Hope of Glory. He alone can turn our barrenness into a lush gardens, our despair into gratitude. Just ask Him.
Prayer:
Lord, fill our emptiness, overwhelm us with your care.
Be the missing piece to our puzzles.
We think we know the way, only to realize
that sometimes it brings us further into despair.
Rescue us from our mistakes, untangle our messes.
You have the ability to make beauty out of nothing!
Please wipe our tears and help us understand the purpose of our sorrows.
We need you to be our Emmanuel, be with and in us.
But what about when you don’t feel like any of this? I had a long talk with a good friend yesterday about the sadness and loneliness that grips so many at this time of year. Life doesn’t stop at Christmas-time, and death, disease, divorce, and despair continue their onslaught unaware of the holiday cheer that we’re supposed to feel.
The paradox behind Christmas is that this state of mind may be the best way to fully embrace Christmas’ promise. When we are the most empty inside, dried up from over-achieving, lonely and barren - it is then we have room in the “inn” for Christ. There is a vacancy in our hearts that is only for Jesus. Many times over the last year I’ve felt like I have nothing left. It is this dependency and helplessness that forces me to look outside myself for courage and strength to face another day. I think the Wise Men traveled with this same hunger, looking for someone who would bring peace into their worlds.
Another friend of mine gave me a handout yesterday which lists of the gifts we have in Jesus. Salvation, peace, forgiveness, grace, mercy, compassion, strength, courage, direction, etc. This list was very long, much longer than my list of “wants.” I looked back over my year and realized how many of His gifts I received without a simple “thank you” being spoken. And yet He keeps on giving. What a loving Father.
The promise for us all is echoed in Isaiah’s words, “At that time the deaf will hear...the blind will see…The castoffs of society will be laughing and dancing in God, the down-and-outs shouting praise to The Holy of Israel.” Christmas is an invitation to be still, open and welcoming to what can be, Christ, our Hope of Glory. He alone can turn our barrenness into a lush gardens, our despair into gratitude. Just ask Him.
Prayer:
Lord, fill our emptiness, overwhelm us with your care.
Be the missing piece to our puzzles.
We think we know the way, only to realize
that sometimes it brings us further into despair.
Rescue us from our mistakes, untangle our messes.
You have the ability to make beauty out of nothing!
Please wipe our tears and help us understand the purpose of our sorrows.
We need you to be our Emmanuel, be with and in us.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Growing Gethsemane
A good friend of mine, Vicky, has a passion for Israel. She has traveled there numerous times and shares her love of the country, its history, and traditions through a bible study she has created called “Following the Footsteps of Christ”. A couple of years ago I was a part of her group and was blessed not only by her warm and gracious heart, but by the wealth of knowledge she has gained through her many journeys to the Holy Land.
Each time Vicky has gone back to Israel, she finds things to bring back with her to memorialize her trip. Because we shared her passion for learning about this great land, she shared some of her souvenirs with us in class. I have on my shelf a vial of water from the Jordan River, a small container of soil from the floor of the prison where Paul spent time, and a small challis made of olive wood used to take the communion wine.
But my most treasured possession from the Holy Land is my tree. While Vicky visited the Garden of Gethsemane she was told no one was allowed to enter the garden, but they could to walk the surrounding sidewalks and peer into the garden. She noticed the numerous Carob Tree pods littering the sidewalks. These trees have been in the garden since who knows when. The stand paying homage to Jesus, it’s most infamous guest, mixed with the Olive Trees and other beautiful flowing shrubs and plants. These very plants are most likely the great-great grandchildren of the original trees who witnessed our Lord’s last agonizing night before His death. They provided a safe haven for his intimate time with His Father, heard his prayers of surrender, and possibly held him as he collapsed in anguish asking for that night to pass. Vicky brought home Carob pods, to have a piece of Gethsemane for herself. I was a recipient of a couple of these pods, much to my delight. I love to garden and this was a new challenge for me. Little did I know the impact these small seeds would have on me.
The seeds are hard as rock, and once planted, they may take a year or two to sprout. At the time I planted my seeds, my life was becoming increasingly hard to handle. I was at a point where I was desperate for God to act. I watered the seeds patiently, wondering if they would ever sprout. I nearly forgot about them, and left them outside for nature to care for them. And one day, nearly six months after planting them, a sprout emerged. In God’s timing, it was also a week of agonizing where I came to a complete surrender to the most precious thing in my life, my marriage. It was dying, and l had a sense there was nothing more I could do on my own to rescue the little life that was left in it. I prayed a gut-wrenching prayer that week for God’s will to be done, not my own. I looked on that little sprout as God’s message to me that He would bring life out of death, just as He did for His Son.
This little tree welcomes me each morning with a reminder that God will never leave me or forsake me. It has endured a couple of years of trials itself, sometimes not getting enough water, one time being knocked over by the dogs, and another time losing it’s partner sprout that rose up and died along side it. However, even today there is new growth, new leaves, new life. It tells me God’s not finished with me yet. I don’t know His plan for my future. I’ve surrendered it to Him, and realize that sometimes life has to come after death. The seed had to harden and die before it could emerge as a new plant. My heart died last year, my dreams and hopes for a healed marriage have been unmet, yet I feel new life every. I am being restored, renewed, redeemed.
Vicky’s Carob Tree is now about six feet tall. She brought us a picture one day of it in full bloom, with beautiful pink flowers hanging from its stems. I know one day, my Carob Tree will also bloom, literally and symbolically, and my life will once again portray the beauty of God’s grace, forgiveness and redemption. How sweet it will be.
Each time Vicky has gone back to Israel, she finds things to bring back with her to memorialize her trip. Because we shared her passion for learning about this great land, she shared some of her souvenirs with us in class. I have on my shelf a vial of water from the Jordan River, a small container of soil from the floor of the prison where Paul spent time, and a small challis made of olive wood used to take the communion wine.
But my most treasured possession from the Holy Land is my tree. While Vicky visited the Garden of Gethsemane she was told no one was allowed to enter the garden, but they could to walk the surrounding sidewalks and peer into the garden. She noticed the numerous Carob Tree pods littering the sidewalks. These trees have been in the garden since who knows when. The stand paying homage to Jesus, it’s most infamous guest, mixed with the Olive Trees and other beautiful flowing shrubs and plants. These very plants are most likely the great-great grandchildren of the original trees who witnessed our Lord’s last agonizing night before His death. They provided a safe haven for his intimate time with His Father, heard his prayers of surrender, and possibly held him as he collapsed in anguish asking for that night to pass. Vicky brought home Carob pods, to have a piece of Gethsemane for herself. I was a recipient of a couple of these pods, much to my delight. I love to garden and this was a new challenge for me. Little did I know the impact these small seeds would have on me.
The seeds are hard as rock, and once planted, they may take a year or two to sprout. At the time I planted my seeds, my life was becoming increasingly hard to handle. I was at a point where I was desperate for God to act. I watered the seeds patiently, wondering if they would ever sprout. I nearly forgot about them, and left them outside for nature to care for them. And one day, nearly six months after planting them, a sprout emerged. In God’s timing, it was also a week of agonizing where I came to a complete surrender to the most precious thing in my life, my marriage. It was dying, and l had a sense there was nothing more I could do on my own to rescue the little life that was left in it. I prayed a gut-wrenching prayer that week for God’s will to be done, not my own. I looked on that little sprout as God’s message to me that He would bring life out of death, just as He did for His Son.
This little tree welcomes me each morning with a reminder that God will never leave me or forsake me. It has endured a couple of years of trials itself, sometimes not getting enough water, one time being knocked over by the dogs, and another time losing it’s partner sprout that rose up and died along side it. However, even today there is new growth, new leaves, new life. It tells me God’s not finished with me yet. I don’t know His plan for my future. I’ve surrendered it to Him, and realize that sometimes life has to come after death. The seed had to harden and die before it could emerge as a new plant. My heart died last year, my dreams and hopes for a healed marriage have been unmet, yet I feel new life every. I am being restored, renewed, redeemed.
Vicky’s Carob Tree is now about six feet tall. She brought us a picture one day of it in full bloom, with beautiful pink flowers hanging from its stems. I know one day, my Carob Tree will also bloom, literally and symbolically, and my life will once again portray the beauty of God’s grace, forgiveness and redemption. How sweet it will be.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Remember Being Playful?
"The Lord satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's."...Psalm 103:5
Okay, so this was the title of my morning's devotional. I had a magical childhood, full of experiences and sights and sounds that many never get to enjoy. It was the stuff of storybooks, really. We lived on a small farm, with just enough animals and land to get lost in for a whole day. We built forts out of old siding and other building scraps we'd find in the "dump" near the back of our field, I would ride my bike miles away from home, singing "Fly Like an Eagle" while holding my arms out. We rode our horses, and even cows, raised exotic chickens and searched for the multi-colored eggs they laid, grew heirloom vegetables before they were in style, then cuddled up on the couch at night with hot cocoa and fresh popcorn to catch the latest Disney movie.
My life is far from magical now. Although I live with my parents on the land next door to my childhood home, I feel a million miles away from the freedom. So, today's devotional was a good reminder to enjoy the things God once gave me to delight in him. This morning, upon getting ready for church we noticed a hot air balloon out in the field behind our house. Mind you, it was on 19 degrees out, but none the less, this brave couple was setting out to add some magic to their day. We fed off of their ambition and all stared out the windows as they touched down, then lifted up, then hovered near the telephone lines beside our house. I felt the joy of being a kid again. I'm sure they did too.
Later in the day, I donned my rubber galoshes and went for a long walk in the woods and field with my daughter. We talked of all the things I did as a kid, playing in the creek, treehouses, and hay lofts. She is only 11, but I think my childhood made her envious. She asked why she couldn't do those things, to which I said she could. It was then that the realization of putting away the TV, video games and such would be the cost. I hope she makes the trade.
So, today I relived part of my past, and felt it wrap around me like a good friend's arm. My youth was renewed and my heart was lifted. I feel a little more spirit in my step and I think my wrinkles have decreased a little too, except for my laugh lines.
Okay, so this was the title of my morning's devotional. I had a magical childhood, full of experiences and sights and sounds that many never get to enjoy. It was the stuff of storybooks, really. We lived on a small farm, with just enough animals and land to get lost in for a whole day. We built forts out of old siding and other building scraps we'd find in the "dump" near the back of our field, I would ride my bike miles away from home, singing "Fly Like an Eagle" while holding my arms out. We rode our horses, and even cows, raised exotic chickens and searched for the multi-colored eggs they laid, grew heirloom vegetables before they were in style, then cuddled up on the couch at night with hot cocoa and fresh popcorn to catch the latest Disney movie.
My life is far from magical now. Although I live with my parents on the land next door to my childhood home, I feel a million miles away from the freedom. So, today's devotional was a good reminder to enjoy the things God once gave me to delight in him. This morning, upon getting ready for church we noticed a hot air balloon out in the field behind our house. Mind you, it was on 19 degrees out, but none the less, this brave couple was setting out to add some magic to their day. We fed off of their ambition and all stared out the windows as they touched down, then lifted up, then hovered near the telephone lines beside our house. I felt the joy of being a kid again. I'm sure they did too.
Later in the day, I donned my rubber galoshes and went for a long walk in the woods and field with my daughter. We talked of all the things I did as a kid, playing in the creek, treehouses, and hay lofts. She is only 11, but I think my childhood made her envious. She asked why she couldn't do those things, to which I said she could. It was then that the realization of putting away the TV, video games and such would be the cost. I hope she makes the trade.
So, today I relived part of my past, and felt it wrap around me like a good friend's arm. My youth was renewed and my heart was lifted. I feel a little more spirit in my step and I think my wrinkles have decreased a little too, except for my laugh lines.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
The Closet
Twenty one years ago I got married. I was only 19, and had dated my husband for three years prior to tying the knot. We met on a blind date when I was only 15. When we met I was very young and naive, and thought I knew enough about life to take on this serious relationship, even though I only dated a few other guys for a few months each prior to meeting my husband. Obviously, at 15, or even at 19, there’s so much you don’t really know about life.
One hundred sixty five days ago I separated from my husband. I moved in with my parents, with two kids in tow. I felt like a teenager again, dependent on others to help me make sense of my life. This is not how it’s supposed to turn out, especially after two decades of marriage, two children, and a lot of sweat and tears.
In my parents’ house, there are two upstairs bedrooms, with Jack and Jill bathrooms in the middle. Off one bedroom is a small closet. This is where I sit now. I have converted it to a sanctuary of sorts. It’s where I go every morning with tea or coffee in hand, to prepare for each new day. I have read countless hours here, pouring over scriptures, devotional books, online sermons and spiritual guide books. I’ve read a couple of novels to enter someone else’s world, and have journaled to the end of my spiral bound notebook. I have prayed here, alone and with friends over the phone, I have baptized the desktop with my tears, and have come out looking like I’ve done battle many days. On my desk sits a “daily quotes” calendar telling me the secrets of true beauty, on the wall in front of me is a bulletin board filled with positive reminders of those who love me. On it I have two poems written by a dear friend to me, a letter from my daughter that says I’m the best mom in the world, and a thank you note my mom wrote to me after her mother’s funeral. Above that is a four generation picture of my family. There is also the address of a friend who just lost her husband...all reminders of this precious and fragile life we live.
On the other wall is a framed picture a friend gave me that says “Count your blessings”. Today I’m grateful for my closet. It’s where my real battles take place. It’s where I am transformed daily and given a spiritual makeover that is more extreme than any TV show I’ve seen. I see Jesus here everyday, hear His voice, and tell him all my fears and sorrows. He in turn strokes my hair and tells me everything is going to be all right.
I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but I do know where I’ll start it. And when I come out of the closet, there will be an adventure I’m prepared for, even if I feel blindfolded with my hands tied behind my back. And no matter how steep or treacherous the path before me becomes, I’ll be safe with Jesus at my side. What a Guide...what a God!
One hundred sixty five days ago I separated from my husband. I moved in with my parents, with two kids in tow. I felt like a teenager again, dependent on others to help me make sense of my life. This is not how it’s supposed to turn out, especially after two decades of marriage, two children, and a lot of sweat and tears.
In my parents’ house, there are two upstairs bedrooms, with Jack and Jill bathrooms in the middle. Off one bedroom is a small closet. This is where I sit now. I have converted it to a sanctuary of sorts. It’s where I go every morning with tea or coffee in hand, to prepare for each new day. I have read countless hours here, pouring over scriptures, devotional books, online sermons and spiritual guide books. I’ve read a couple of novels to enter someone else’s world, and have journaled to the end of my spiral bound notebook. I have prayed here, alone and with friends over the phone, I have baptized the desktop with my tears, and have come out looking like I’ve done battle many days. On my desk sits a “daily quotes” calendar telling me the secrets of true beauty, on the wall in front of me is a bulletin board filled with positive reminders of those who love me. On it I have two poems written by a dear friend to me, a letter from my daughter that says I’m the best mom in the world, and a thank you note my mom wrote to me after her mother’s funeral. Above that is a four generation picture of my family. There is also the address of a friend who just lost her husband...all reminders of this precious and fragile life we live.
On the other wall is a framed picture a friend gave me that says “Count your blessings”. Today I’m grateful for my closet. It’s where my real battles take place. It’s where I am transformed daily and given a spiritual makeover that is more extreme than any TV show I’ve seen. I see Jesus here everyday, hear His voice, and tell him all my fears and sorrows. He in turn strokes my hair and tells me everything is going to be all right.
I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but I do know where I’ll start it. And when I come out of the closet, there will be an adventure I’m prepared for, even if I feel blindfolded with my hands tied behind my back. And no matter how steep or treacherous the path before me becomes, I’ll be safe with Jesus at my side. What a Guide...what a God!
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Jackpot!
Last Monday I took my daughter and my three nieces to go bowling at the Brunswick Zone XL, our new bowling alley on steroids. My daughter is at expert level on Wii bowling, so she was sure that she would score big at the lanes as well. Well, I think she scored a 60, with gutter bumpers, but that's a different story. When we arrived, there was a 20 minute wait for an open lane; it was Labor Day and everyone else thought it would be a great idea to go there as well. So after some pleading, I was talked into going to the arcade and letting the girls play some video games. At the end of our bowling and more video games, the girls had amassed a loot of 140 tickets to redeem at the prize store. If you're a parent, you know full well the hype of the prize store. You basically spend $10 on games to get a 50 cent prize. And that day was no different. Because there were four of them, they had to split the tickets and had about 30 tickets each...enough for a tootsie roll. But the prize store is filled with so many wonderful prizes! The girls were drawn to things that cost 500 tickets or more. There were rubber balls, glittery make up kits, small mirror balls, keychains, bracelets, and I even saw a crockpot! But the most desirable items were in the glass case in the center of the store. These were the cream of the crop, the prizes above all prizes. But you couldn't even touch these beauties unless you were a master video gamer, or got extra lucky that day. So, we left the store, deciding to just keep our tickets for the next time.
Two days later, my husband wanted to take my daughter out to go play putt putt golf. They decided to go to Incredible Pizza, which has more to offer than even the Brunswick Zone! Since my husband's a sucker too, they ended up in the arcade searching once again for the riches the tickets would buy. But this was their lucky day. The first game they gave their hand at was the wheel of fortune. They gave the handle a big turn, and lo and behold...they hit the jackpot! 1,000 tickets! It took about 5 minutes for the tickets to spool out and I just wish I could have been there to see my daughter's face! All in all, they ended up with 1,400 tickets that night and went quickly to the "store" to redeem them. They lingered for a long while, looking at everything in the bins, and hanging on the wall, until my daughter saw their glass case. She asked her dad if she could look at the things in the glass case. Well, for the first time ever (maybe in history too), she had enough tickets to buy something from the case! She joyfully picked out a pink camo, glitter filled lava lamp!
Over the last week, she's told the story to a few friends and ALWAYS shares that her dad hit the jackpot, and she got to pick something out of the case! The case. Isn't that what we all want from life? The untouchable thing we stare at that promises to bring us true happiness, but we never have enough tickets for. It's built into us from the time we're little that some things are extra special and we long for them, save up for them, or just go on wishing for years for them.
I can't help but smile as I pass her room late at night and see the pink glow that spills out into the hallway. I'm so glad she got to pick from the case. What a blessing and little wink from God above. I feel that I've hit the jackpot too...two great kids I believe God picked out of the case for me.
Two days later, my husband wanted to take my daughter out to go play putt putt golf. They decided to go to Incredible Pizza, which has more to offer than even the Brunswick Zone! Since my husband's a sucker too, they ended up in the arcade searching once again for the riches the tickets would buy. But this was their lucky day. The first game they gave their hand at was the wheel of fortune. They gave the handle a big turn, and lo and behold...they hit the jackpot! 1,000 tickets! It took about 5 minutes for the tickets to spool out and I just wish I could have been there to see my daughter's face! All in all, they ended up with 1,400 tickets that night and went quickly to the "store" to redeem them. They lingered for a long while, looking at everything in the bins, and hanging on the wall, until my daughter saw their glass case. She asked her dad if she could look at the things in the glass case. Well, for the first time ever (maybe in history too), she had enough tickets to buy something from the case! She joyfully picked out a pink camo, glitter filled lava lamp!
Over the last week, she's told the story to a few friends and ALWAYS shares that her dad hit the jackpot, and she got to pick something out of the case! The case. Isn't that what we all want from life? The untouchable thing we stare at that promises to bring us true happiness, but we never have enough tickets for. It's built into us from the time we're little that some things are extra special and we long for them, save up for them, or just go on wishing for years for them.
I can't help but smile as I pass her room late at night and see the pink glow that spills out into the hallway. I'm so glad she got to pick from the case. What a blessing and little wink from God above. I feel that I've hit the jackpot too...two great kids I believe God picked out of the case for me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)