September 3rd, 2012

I've had one of those evenings of mulling-over and reflection. I'm home for a bit, and in the quiet of my first non-student fall since the age of 2, I've taken on a number of small projects. I started cleaning out one of our sheds a couple of days ago. It's an old farm shed full of storage-worthy items---everything from our childhood trikes to my great-grandmother's dining room table and chairs. It's a treasure-trove of what my mom would accurately term "treasures," but it was also quite dirty and disorganized.

I was about 3/4 through the 'pulling out' of stuff into the adjoining pasture stage of the organization process when Mom came home from work. I knew she'd be stressed/slightly overwhelmed by the very in-progress appearance of my little project, and really who could blame her?

Her very natural reaction took me back to the same childhood feelings of wanting to see something through to completion before revealing it to my approving parents. I'm sure I uttered the words, "Don't look yet; it's not done!" at least a million times during my childhood. There's something about revealing a perfected project for admiration that's just so satisfying.

This evening's musings led me to make a connection between my simple desires for a polished finished product and the way I often find myself relating to God and other people. The truth is, I like to have it all figured out. The messy, creative process isn't my particular favorite, at least not for the general public's viewing. Problematic, when you're living in community, and even more problematic when you're trying to be honest with God.

You see, sometimes, even though I know, mentally, that the Father welcomes me in all my disorder, I find myself shrinking away, afraid of His reaction to my un-organized heart and life. Sometimes I'm afraid of Him because I'm all too aware of my own brokenness. I say to Him, "Don't look yet! I'm not done!"

But, the blessed reality of it is, God loves me in my messes. He looks on the squalor of my sin and confusion, and He rolls up His sleeves. He isn't at all overwhelmed by my disasters. He delights to glorify Himself in the putting-back-together-process.

He is the God of my disasters. And I am often a mess, a work in progress in the hands of my Healer.

And you, friend, so are you.

August 20th, 2012

You know the really-great God-peace that feels like every kind of comfort food, only for the soul?

I've had a wonderful dose of it this evening as the result of a fresh recognition of His Lordship over my life. It's not hard for me to realize that He's in control, but sometimes I'm quick to forget that my life is not about me. It's astounding how quick I am to try and build my own kingdom or to choose comfort over holiness and the uncomfortable stretching process that precedes it.

I am much slower to choose the road less-traveled or to opt for what I know will be a difficult road.

The God-comfort that filled me up on the inside this evening came as I tore down those foundations of my own kingdom. No matter how spectacular they might seem in my mind's eye, they're not worth anything if they're built for my glory and happiness instead of His.

There's joy and freedom in following the Leader, friend. I think it's very much like dancing. Jesus knows the steps, and I do not. The dance only works, and is only joyful, when I recognize that He must lead. (I must learn to follow closely!)

He knows my way, and my highest good is to give Him glory with my life, however He asks me to. There's such richness of freedom in that.

Catch-Up

It's been awhile since I've been here, but never fear, I've been writing away (just on paper instead of with keys!). 

I Love The Body.

"Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful. Let the message of Christ dwell among you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom through psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit, singing to God with gratitude in your hearts. And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him." -Colossians 3:15-17


I'm so thankful for The Body. 


These past couple of weeks, God has shown me His wonderful provision through complete strangers. You see, I'm beginning to gear up for another adventure with Jesus, this one more unknown than ones before but ever so exciting all the same. In the midst of all that that means, God has blessed me with His faithfulness to provide for my needs, and He's done that through His people. He's shown me small glimpses of just how strong and deep the 'family ties' of Jesus run. 


Last week, a woman I met during the meet-and-greet time at church handed me a chunk of change and told me she'd be praying for me and the ministry He's got for me. I'd never met this woman before that church service, and she wasn't even a member of our church here in Iowa City- she was a visitor! God astounded me with His blessing through His people. 


Today, at a graduation party, I met an older couple who was friends with the graduate's family. I didn't know them, but they knew Jesus. The woman of the couple marched up to me and said, "I need to meet you. I heard what you're doing after graduation, and I want to cover you with prayer." She spoke life into me, encouraged me, and then asked my name. Haha! When she was talking about how she'd be praying for me, she said, "If you feel a jolt, it's me!" 


What an amazing thing it is to be upheld by His family, to be held in His arms via His people interceding and supporting me. I am blessed. I love The Body, His Body.  

Thankful for a Life Fully Lived

This past winter, just days before Christmas, I found myself moved to tears of thankfulness, and this past weekend, the Easter celebration reminded me of those days.

You see, just before the celebration of His birth, my family said goodbye to a dear one, my great-grandmother, Violet Pedersen. A couple of days before Christmas, I woke up after sleeping in and was on my way to the shower when mom stopped me to tell me that Grandma Pedersen had gone Home. As I turned on the shower, the tears mixed with streams of water, and thankfulness was the feeling that overwhelmed me.

Have you ever been overwhelmed by thankfulness, overcome with the feeling of gratitude? I was.

As I reflected on those moments and that strong awareness of thankfulness this Easter, I was reminded again of the reasons for my thankfulness. I was, and am, so thankful for Violet Pedersen's life because she lived her life to glorify the living Jesus. She lived a life of influence. Not necessarily loud and boisterous, but strong and consistent. I am so thankful for her because she showed my young heart the character and love of Christ.

And that made me think, again, about the impact of my own life. When I reach the end of it, what will my great-granddaughter say? Will she be thankful? Will she be full of stories of my faithfulness to Him? Will the hard times of my life display His glory and goodness? Will my life encourage her to trust Him more deeply and fully?

Small acts of consistent obedience--I believe that's the road that led Grandma Pedersen into the character that so displayed Jesus. Her life makes me want to live my own more intentionally and fully.

Last fall, I began, really by accident, writing about Grandma Pedersen's life for a creative writing assignment. I've continued to work on it, and I think I might just share some bits of it periodically. Tonight, I'll share the opening section from my story. Praying that you'll be encouraged to live your life well, in honor of the One who is worth it.

Memoir of a Life Lived Fully

            Every morning when I wake up, I look out the window and try to decide how the day is going to be. Sometimes, when it’s so sunny that the sunshine comes right in my window to announce the day, I know I’ll be happy all day long. Other days, when the sky is gray and cloudy, I just get to wondering about how my life will turn out. Skies have always made me think like that I guess.

            And these days, I’m having a little trouble getting my head straight. Oh, no mistaking, there are days when I can remember everything: from what I had for breakfast to whether it was sunny or cloudy the day my first child was born. It was sunny, by the way.  But then there are days when my mind seems to get wrapped up in some kinda spider web, and those days, I couldn’t even tell you what year I was born. 1918, in case you’re wondering.

            That’s the most frustrating part, I guess. I know I’m turning into that old lady I never wanted to be, the one that eventually forgets her children’s names and faces, those faces whose shapes I carefully memorized when they were little ones. All those times I wiped off dirty chins and checked to make sure they’d washed behind their ears…I don’t mind getting old. I’m not afraid to die. Long ago I took my Grandma's advice and set myself right with my Maker. I don’t worry for myself, but, oh, I do worry for them.

            When I think about my own self, I’m almost glad I don’t have to remember their reactions on the days they come to visit and I’m feeling cloudy. I’m sure seeing their embarrassment at my confusion would be the very worst thing a mother and a grandmother could endure. I know eventually there will come a time when I don’t have any more sunny days. But while I do have a few left, I thought I would write it all down; I’m going to keep myself alive and well and sunny. For them. 

Into Joy

"Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us." -Romans 5:1-5


I've always read these verses with a kind of flippancy. Truly, I don't think I've ever taken the time to understand them fully, and maybe I wouldn't have been able to even if I had tried to wrap my mind around the whole process of suffering to hope.

As it turns out, this series of results isn't as neat and clean as that one nicely punctuated sentence led me to believe. You see, Dear Reader, I feel as though I've been living in this particular verse for this last season (semester) of life.

My life as a whole, is abundantly blessed. I don't want you to imagine that a long list of horrible 'suffering' has taken place (Grandma, that was for you). I have more than I need. I have a roof over my head, and a nice one at that! I have friends and family who love me well. I am a member of the privileged group of the world's population that gets the opportunity to go to college. I have an awesome church family. But, this semester has contained a tension that others have not. In my own little way, there has been a measure of suffering in that tension.

Though I can't quite define this tension, these are a few of the many pieces: tears; the preparations of leaving a place and people I have grown to love; loneliness; the muddle of trying to figure out what I am to be about in the in between times; the pain and joy of sending a dear one home; stress; the rush of finishing college with the largest credit load yet; trying, harder than ever to see the breakthrough of truth into someone else's darkness; the waiting, the wrestling in prayer; the feeling of being inadequate.

This semester has been like a winter. Not the sort with snowflakes and hot cocoa, but the kind that tests you, forces you to the point of desperation. And God has allowed this winter. By His grace, He has given it to me. It has been a long winter-- a long winter of hope and prayer and putting one foot in front of the other.

And tonight, God spoke sweet words to my soul, "Spring will come."

You see, Dear Reader, our God is the God of the Springtimes. He is the Maker-of-All-Things-New.

After the prayer in the garden, the cross, and the tomb comes the risen, restored, triumphant Jesus.

"You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us."
-Romans 5:6-8

Here is the miracle of this life we live with Him. He asks us to die. He asks us to lay down our selves, our rights. He walks us to the desperation, to the dependence. He walks us to the cross so He can raise us to new life.

And because of that, we can glory, rejoice, even in our sufferings. He walked through the mess of suffering so we could follow Him, through the sufferings, and into Him, into the joy.

Dug Down Deep

I just finished reading a book by Joshua Harris entitled: Dug Down Deep, Unearthing What I Believe & Why It Matters. Throughout the book, Harris seeks to explain why a 'humble Christian orthodoxy' is exactly what our world (and the Church) needs most. Here's a snippet from page 231...

"Being grounded on the rock doesn't make you or me better than anyone else. It should make us aware of how dependent we are. It should humble us. The only thing that enables us to stand firm is Jesus and his words. The only thing that enables us to know and dwell with God is the solid rock of the Savior.

The message of Christian orthodoxy isn't that I'm right and someone else is wrong. It's that I am wrong and yet God is filled with grace. I am wrong, and yet God has made a way for me to be forgiven and accepted and loved for eternity.  I am wrong, and yet God gave his Son, Jesus, to die in my place and receive my punishment. I am wrong, but through faith in Jesus, I can be made right before a holy God.

This is the gospel. This is the truth that all Christian doctrine celebrates. This is the truth that every follower of Jesus Christ is called to cherish and preserve. Even die for. It is the only truth on which we can build our lives and rest our eternal hope."

Also, click here  to watch a video called "The Voice of Justice." A friend emailed it to me this week, and I think it's a great reminder of the battle we're engaged in, a battle that Christ already has won!