I Wish I May

Sometimes you wish for something. Wish until you can hardly hold it in. Until it's all you can think about. Until the day comes when you realize: God's either going to grant your wish, or take it away.

And He asks you to let it go.

To give up the sparkle of each thought you've had about it. To give up the moments when you've grinned for "no reason" because the very wish made you skip. To give up the anticipation; the expectant, bubbly feeling - like a kid in a candy shop - that is part and parcel with waiting on a wish.

And so you do. You let it go.

It takes time. But finally, your thoughts don't live there anymore. You don't feel the desire to talk about it anymore. When you hear of someone else's wish, your heart doesn't race with excitement anymore. 

Because you've let it go.

Then something happens. Maybe it's a picture from the time you were wishing hardest. Maybe it's the book that first whispered to you of the dream. Maybe you watch someone else live your wish. Dream your dream. 

And God lets her. 

Blesses her.

Suddenly, you're in pieces again. Not the shattered, dramatic, sobbing-on-the-floor kind of pieces, but the subtle kind. The kind that makes you wonder if that dull ache is just a destined part of your life now. The kind that's not even sure you want the wish anymore, but can't figure out why it's suddenly so hard.

You hadn't realized how tightly you'd woven your wish into thoughts most special to you. Hadn't realized how very long it takes to extract all the traces from deep inside. Hadn't realized that letting go never happens just once.

"But this is what God asks of me! I can do nothing if not trust Him. If I doubt Him now, what purpose is there in anything?"

So, shakily, you reach your hands toward Him. This is harder than hanging onto hope: to let it die. Again.

Again, you struggle against the memory.

Again, you yearn to understand.

Again, you beg, "Not my will, but Yours!"

Again, you cannot stop the whisper, "but if only this wish could be..."

Again, you wait upon Him.

Hands outstretched.

Ears straining.

Eyes searching.

Heart clinging.

You wait.

And then, one day, you realize - 
"To receive from Him
To hear His voice
To see His glory
To know His love -
This is my wish."

And gradually, once again, your heart begins to beat to a wish that will forever come true.

"One thing I have desired of the LORD,
That will I seek:
That I may dwell in the house of the LORD
All the days of my life,
To behold the beauty of the LORD,
And to inquire in His temple." - Psalm 27

Photo Credit:

jessicahtam. Wish. 22 Nov. 2009. Flickr Creative Commons. 

Reflections on a Mirror

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If your mum was anything like mine, you grew up with your stunning 5-year-old fashion sense
constantly being challenged. "Don't wear plaid with polka dots," "your socks need to match," "petticoats do not go on your head" (yeah, it was a phase...) - it seemed there were always rules about what did and did not constitute an outfit. Even in my attempts to comply, I was rather flummoxed in following the "Laws of Acceptable Fashion," soon learning that such a feat was harder than it seemed.

The most obvious way to be mom-approved (an incontestable requirement for 5-year-olds) was to run through the list of individual dos and don'ts. Was I wearing plaid with polka dots? Did my socks match? Were there petticoats on my head? Never mind that my socks were dirty, or that my plethora of colors clashed at every intersection - if I was within the Laws of Acceptable Fashion, the girl reflected in the mirror felt satisfied and savvy. Inevitably, when mum would catch a glimpse of the eyesore I called an outfit, she would be scandalized. "What are you wearing?!" And I, having felt confident in my compliance with the rules, would have no idea what she meant.

Clearly, simply focusing on the rules wasn't creating a classy style, so what was a girl to do? As I grew, I learned the key to a good outfit involved not merely evaluating individual pieces, but stepping back, outside of the "rules," to view my outfit as a whole. Does this shirt and skirt look good together? Do I match overall - from hair-bows to shoelaces? Carefully, I would head downstairs, keenly aware of my every accessory, and there await evaluation.

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"For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man observing his natural face in a mirror; for he observes himself, goes away, and immediately forgets what kind of man he was..."

What causes men and women to look in the mirror, walk away, and immediately forget what their style is? What attitude or perspective determines that one's appearance is not worth a single thought throughout the day? Could it be that mere "hearers", like the 5-year-old-fashionista, are so sure their reflections are flawless, following every "rule," that they simply can't be bothered to consider them again? Of course, as it concerns actual mirrors and styles, I think this approach preferable; but as it concerns my spiritual attitude, I find it convicting.

Are we like the rich young ruler, who looked at the the Laws of Acceptable Behavior and didn't even know what he was missing? Interestingly, the word "law" used in this passage of James means "parceling" - a breaking up of our King's character into smaller pieces: pieces our finite minds can understand. However, when I look into the mirror of the law and consider only the individual dos and don'ts, will I notice if my spiritual socks are dirty with discontentment? Will I be aware that I've given imbalanced attention to the petticoats of works by wearing them on my head?

Will I see my great need to be adorned by His great grace?

"...But he who looks in to the perfect law of liberty and continues in it, and is not a forgetful hearer but a doer of the work, this one will be blessed in what he does."

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To be perfect is to be complete. When we look at our reflections in the law, not as individual dos and don'ts, but as pieces that describe a complete Character so entirely infinite that it dazzles the comprehension, will we feel "satisfied and savvy" with the  faces looking back at us? Will we walk away and "immediately forget" what kind of men and women we are? Or will it cause us to continue there, studying the perfect One, being changed into His likeness, seeking His adornment?

How do you look in the mirror?

Our Only Ground

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About a month ago, I posted the following on facebook:

I'm tired of the word "deserve." "Ever girl deserves..." "...because you deserve..." "Everyone deserves..."
"But God, who is rich in mercy, because of the great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead...made us alive...that in the ages to come He might show the exceeding riches of His grace in His kindness toward us in Christ Jesus."
All we deserve is eternal death in hell, but Christ's incarnation and sacrifice have rendered what anyone "deserves" as irrelevant. Life is to be centered around His love, His grace, and His mercy. Can we stop with our false sense of entitlement? I'm so grateful to not get what I deserve!

Having the Christian friends that I do, many agreed with me, posting their own encounters and understanding of the magnitude of the free-ness of God's gift of eternal life. However, at the time, I couldn't help but wonder how many people would have so heartily concurred if they knew what had sparked the mini-rant. Last week, as we mournfully observed the 42nd anniversary of Roe v Wade, enough one-liners, and comic strips, and blog posts rolled across my screen to assure me that my motive in the post would have been rather - if not extremely - unpopular. Why? Because the catalyst for my anti-entitlement reaction was a pro-life ad.

How could we, as Christians, have strayed so far in defending our beliefs? Even a pro-life ad on a Christian radio station fell short. After briefly running through general information about the pro-life organization, the commercial then moved to how those looking to donate could do so as a tax write-off (in fact, the whole ad felt disproportionately money-oriented, but that is not the point here). After announcing all pertinent details, the gentle lady's voice concluded, "Because every baby deserves a chance to live."

Deserves? Is that what we believe?

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If you are pro-life, why? Because you believe that the child in the womb is an actual human being and abortion is the same as murder? Who says murder is wrong? Couldn't it sometimes be a necessary evil for the greater good?

Are you pro-life because studies show that a baby in the womb can feel pain? Is pain inflicted on another human a legitimate reason for outlawing a practice? Do we outlaw orthodontists? Doctors who set legs? Who's to say that the temporary pain of an abortion isn't, in the long run, the best for the child, if his life would be one of great trial?

Are you pro-life because "innocent" babies deserve the chance to live? Why? Do their mothers "deserve" to go through the nausea, discomfort, job complications, and financial hardship to bring to term children they don't even want - perhaps for whom they cannot even provide?

Why are you pro-life?

If the Christian literature I saw this past week is any indication, we are failing miserably in our attempts to answer this question. We spout our scientific facts: 8 weeks after conception, the baby's heartbeat is discernible via ultrasound; at 16-18 weeks, the baby can feel pain. These are evidences of personhood. After science we appeal to morality: the baby is alive, and it's murder to abort him; abortion is sacrificing one's children on the altar of selfishness and willful ignorance. Goodness and kindness rise up in protest.  But the weapon of choice is pathos. Miraculous survival stories, heart-wrenching testimonials, appeals to mothers who would never want pain for their children- the more tears we see, the more people we feel we've reached.

Why are you pro-life?

Christians, should not our answer be, "I am pro-life because never once in God's word did He show the unborn to be of any less personhood than the born; therefore, I cannot consider them to be anything else, either. I am pro-life because our God is the God of life and murder is against His very nature; therefore, I oppose it too. I am pro-life because God loves children; therefore, I delight in them as well."?

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Are we ashamed of these answers? Afraid of "turning people away" by our radical, life-supporting, Christian response? Have we so thoughtlessly burned our bridges? Our foundation was surely on the rock, but we have taken a sledgehammer to it in the name of not "forcing our views on others." If we blow the pro-life horn in the name of ever-changing science, unreliable pathos, and floating societal morality, how will it sound?

In observing the Christians of his time, William Wilberforce noted this lack of foundation from which we still waver today:

"If we listen to [the Christians'] conversation, virtue is praised, and vice is censured; piety is perhaps applauded, and profaneness condemned. So far all is well. But let any one, who would not be deceived by the "barren generalities" examine a little more closely, and he will find, that not to Christianity in particular, but at best to Religion in general, perhaps to mere Morality their homage is intended to be paid..."
"Does this seem too strong? View their plan of life and their ordinary conduct....Wherein can we discern the points of discrimination between them and professed unbelievers?"

 I am pro-life. Not because science "proves" or "supports" the life of a child in the womb - although it does.

Not because it is "bad" or "evil" to take that life, whether from the preference of the parent or pressure on the parent  - although it is.

Not because I have shed innumerable tears over the lost lives of so many millions - although I have.

And certainly not because every baby deserves to live - frankly, they don't. None of us do.

I am pro-life because my Father in heaven, Who has so perfectly formed each being, loves, bestows, and values life, and I stand with Him. What other choice do we have? "All other ground is sinking sand."

The Love That Knows

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"And this I pray, that your love may abound still more and more in knowledge and all discernment, that you may approve the things that are excellent, that you may be sincere and without offense til the day of Christ..." - Philippians 1:9-10

How does my love abound in knowledge and all discernment?

I don't just want a succinct, theological answer. I'm not looking for a catchy slogan or profound motto to become my life catch-phrase. And I'm only remotely interested in what the great theologians of old have laid out as doctrine on the subject. That is not the point. My question is both smaller and bigger than a simple explanation/expounding of the Greek. What do I do, how does my life look different, where do I aim, for my love to abound within these qualifications? What do I say or do with Suzy as a result of having a knowledgeable, discerning love for her? My love has to encapsulate far more than good fellowship and similar tastes, surely. It must constantly be looking beyond the immediate moment and situation, and remembering its origin and purpose - that we both may know our Father more. A love full of knowledge and discernment envisions what a person can become in Christ, and kindly, relentlessly, sharpens and pushes her toward that goal. It involves confrontation - from which I shrink - with tact & sensitivity - which are not my gifts. How do I learn these things??

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But it is more than even this, I think.

To have a love abounding "in knowledge and all discernment" is not merely for the benefit of the person I am to love. A discerning love may well allow me to know when and what to say to Suzy, should the need arise, but it is equally necessary for my relationship with Christ. Suppose Suzy will not be challenged? Suppose she cannot, will not, seek the LORD for all areas of her life? Suppose she refuses to surrender certain likes, tendencies, and dreams? If I love her mindlessly, as it were, ignorant of where such actions lead or unaware of how I ought to respond, I will first accept, then approve, then adopt her way of life. This is the only possible outcome of a mindless love. A love built solely on shared histories, events, tastes, and times. A love with no anchor in morality. A rootless love: it either withers or destroys.

Springing from the LORD, growing constantly in wisdom - it is this caliber of love which enables me to not only see my friend clearly, but also have the vision (eternal eyes) with which to respond to and love her. If Suzy is not willing to rise through the challenges, this love will give me the wisdom of how to interact with her, and that Christ-taught response may be what softens her heart. And if my eyes are on the LORD and how He would have me to love her, I will have the discernment to know where I personally need to draw boundaries in my relationship with her.

So much for the good of wisdom and discernment in loving all those the LORD has placed in my path. My question remains the same: How do I learn to love deeply, with knowledge and discernment? Since this principle comes directly from the Word, I am sure to find the answer there. This, my friends whom I love, is what I have been pondering on lately.

The End of My Rope

It's been weeks since I've felt caught up on sleep.

Nearly a month since I've written in my journal.

More than a month since I've really read a book.

Days since I've had a good hour to dig into the Word.

~~~~~~~

It's been a while since I've felt in control.

On top of my happening life.

Ahead enough to plan for new things.

~~~~~~~

Most days I feel like I barely keep my head above water.

Like it's a struggle just to stay current with day-to-day events.

Then taxes loom in front of me.

And expenses descend upon me.

And my room's a mess.

And there are emails unwritten.

And phone calls unmade.

~~~~~~~

My spirit begins to cry out in thirst for true Water.

And my soul begins to shrivel in the cold.

And my temper's suddenly short and brittle.

And in desperation, I finally throw myself at Your feet.

~~~~~~~

Ignoring the thousands of chiming voices -

The hundreds of chores and to-dos yet undone.

The clamor grows louder, but I know, yes, I know.

First things not put first only grow desperate cries.

~~~~~~~

I'm at the end of my rope.

With naught but a frayed strip 'twixt my fingers.

And I can't afford to listen to the canyon, deep below.

So in pain, hands bleeding, muscles quivering, I focus -

Focus, on the rope, held taut, far above me.

And the deafening cries subside.

And I'm drawn up by You.

And I realize that, here, I always should dwell:

At the end of my rope.

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St. Patrick's Day, Give-Away Ending, the Death-Of-All-Things-Battery-Operated, and Lessons from Anna

Inspiring title, no?

This is a post wherein I hereby bestow upon you a potpourri of such thoughts and happenings as have so defined my wee Monday.

*ahem*

Part I:

Happy St. Patrick's Day!! I almost forgot to wear green, had soggy iceberg lettuce instead of cabbage (apparently brothers don't tend to notice the differences between the two when shopping...I mean, the label "iceberg lettuce" and "cabbage" have at least 3 letters in common) and didn't even remember to watch this 'dorable tradition-of-a-video with the Littles:

Nevertheless, the sentiments expressed in this post (coincidentally one of the first posts on my blog) remain the same as I consider the day. Pray for Ireland!

Part II:

I realized there was rather a lack of information regarding last week's give-away! It officially closes Tuesday night (March 18th), at 11:59pm Pacific Standard Time. Wednesday's video post will reveal the winners!

Part III:

And now, for a sad tale.

Once upon a time there lived a girl (that's me) who had a job (that's music teaching) to go to upon a Monday morn (that's today). She ventured forth into the sun and cold (that's March weather), only to be rudely stopped dead in her tracks by a dead car (that wouldn't even start!). Said girl (still me) called upon her helpful bro (Mr. Doesn't-Know-Cabbage-From-Iceberg-Lettuce) to assist her, and since said brother was brilliant (despite some minor deficiencies in reading skills), he righted the aforementioned wrong (that is, a dead car) in record time. Thankful girl (who had only had to cancel the first two lessons of the day) drove off into the sunshine, sure of a happily-ever-after ending.

But it was not to be.

Several hours later, tired girl (that is, the first person) returned home and opened up her computer to check email (that is, paperless communication). No sooner had she loaded the page then said laptop (that is, Polly) "popped off as you might say" (who knows that quote?), never to be resurrected again. Aforementioned girl (SarahJayne) nearly cried with remorse that all things battery-operated were thus withering beneath her touch, and bravely called her father (on a battery-operated cell phone which did not die), who promptly reassured her all would be well.

And so she hopes for her happily-ever-after ending...

Part IV:

We were studying Anna this last week in our girls' Bible study, and I found these discussion questions particularly convicting. Too often, I am tempted to think merely that how I act around people is testimony enough to my Savior. I mean, with the Holy Spirit in me, how could the difference not be obvious? These questions challenged me to look for every opportunity to faithfully, verbally point to Christ. If I am the only one who could speak to them of Truth...what a tragedy for me to say nothing and wait to be asked.

We don't know what happened to Anna after the experience described in Luke 2. We can only imagine that she told everyone she knew about God's revelation. What do you tell everyone you know? If their encounter with you is their only spiritual encounter, what are they learning? - John MacArthur, Twelve Extraordinary Women

What are ways you speak of Christ, even when just having met someone?

Birth Announcement ~ A Guest Post by Lauren

He may have already stopped hoping by the time Hope was born.

Over 400 years of silence from God overshadowed this man’s ancestors.  It was a silence that rivaled the 430 years of Jewish slavery in Egypt.  And this Jew, born in the Egypt that had enslaved his ancestors, thought he may as well have been hoping for a resurrected Moses liberator as for a Messiah after all that silence. 

The way this man Philo saw it, it was time for God to step out from behind His curtain and once again declare “I AM.”  But Philo Judaeus wasn’t seeing even a rustling of the curtain, so he decided to yank it aside himself.  Moses was lost up on Mt. Sinai, and Philo took his cue from an impatient Aaron, building his own Messiah in one Greek word: logos. 

He used a little dab of Plato, a good helping of Hebrew Scripture misinterpreted as merely allegorical, and sprinkled his new creation with the other philosophies of the day. 

He married philosophy with God and birthed his own mediator between God and man: logos, which in his mind meant “reason.” 

Meanwhile, the true Logos was being born of a virgin in a forgotten stable in a conquered Israel. 

Philo, looking back on the baffling centuries of silence, said that God was unknowable.  He said that the world was senselessly evil, and that since God could not come in contact with such blackness, He could not have directly created it.  This is where Philo’s logos came in, the neither unbegotten nor begotten second-in-command to God, the mystical mediator of God’s powers to humanity, the philosophical substitute for the Messiah. 

Meanwhile, the true Messiah was getting to know fishermen and tax collectors.  He, as one with God, was performing miracles and changing lives.  He was getting dirty and tired and hungry in villages and on roads, yet He was utterly and completely God at the same time.

Philo saw his logos as “reason:” impersonal, archangelic, the Idea of Ideas. 

Yet the Messiah on the cross was not impersonal, nor merely angelic, nor a mystical idea.  He was Someone greater: the Word become flesh who dwelt among us (John 1:14). 

“In the beginning was the Logos” carries with it a declaration as weighty as the entire history of the world:

Jesus is the Logos who spoke the world into existence.

Jesus is the Logos who fulfills the Ten Logoi: the Ten Commandments.

Jesus is the Logos who declares “I AM.”

Jesus is the Logos who broke 400 years of silence.

Jesus is the Logos who was seen by human eyes and touched by dirty human hands and heard and known by His creation.  He was just as much the Word when He was in Mary’s uterus as He was when He was bleeding on the cross or sitting at the right hand of God. 

Yet Philo may have already stopped hoping by the time Hope was born, settling for a God who needed the universe to avoid a death of loneliness and a logos no greater than the limits of Philo’s own human creativity.

But when John divinely penned, “In the beginning was the Word” and “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us” God divinely shattered Philo’s idol of reason and his convenient pseudo-Messiah that fit his culture, emotions, and demands of God. 

With “In the beginning was the Word” God divinely shattered the convenient idols of my age, too: the pseudo-Messiahs that fit nicely into my boxed traditions of who I think God should be.  John used the very Greek word Logos that Philo had twisted, with all the weight of the Jewish history, and bridged the way to the the Word for both Gentiles and Jews.

It was the birth announcement of our Hope.  And with that, 400 years of silence was shattered by the Word, crying in a stable.

Lauren’s best friends are her family–her parents, Steve and Jennifer, and her five siblings. She is passionate about history, good music, and being a feminine woman in a feminist culture. You’ll find her blogging at One Bright Corner with her twin sister, Mikaela, and typing behind-the-scenes on the Christian Heritage blog and newsletter. When she’s not doing that, she loves teaching music, being outside, and ministering with her family!


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The Grown-Up Neverland ~ A Guest Post by Karlena

I know that most of you are probably tired of hearing bad news about the sorry state of the world today.  You might feel fed up with people constantly repeating more evidence of a society in demise.  Perhaps you find it depressing to hear of the news of the day.  Please, bear with me.  The following news is too important for you to ignore.

PETER PAN HAS GROWN UP!

And not just Peter Pan either.  Wendy, John, and Michael have all grown up with him.

 

“How do you know”, you ask.

Simple.  Just listen to the way today’s adults talk (or “speak”, as my mother would have said!).

Children everywhere are being subjected to horrendous things, like “soup”.  When did adults stop serving “pottage” to their “crew”?  Instead of combining their “pottage” with a “Dagwood”, kids are expected to eat “sandwiches” with their “soup”.

And whoever heard of telling a child to “stop eating with your mouth open”?  I remember when adults said fun things, like, “Quit masticating like a cow”.

Why, when I was a child adults understood that kids wanted to be told, “Your conveyance awaits”.  Nowadays you only hear, “Get in the car”. 

I, personally, am about fed up with that nasty new phrase, “Use your inside voice, dear”.  Is this not truly atrocious?  Who decided to stop telling children not to be so “boisterous”? 

I am sure that you have heard some adult say, “Walk your feet, honey”.  (I always wonder if the young person has the right leash?)  Why should children “walk their feet”?  Has no one taught them how to “tippy-toe softly- we don’t want to wake the mice babies”?

When did we forget the beauty of words?  How did we allow our day to day activities to rob us of the great vocabulary of yesteryear?

When did we forget the joy of hearing the words, “an egregious error” roll off our tongues?  I remember enjoying that saying so much, I would whisper it to myself at night!  I thank God for a mother who said, “THAT was an egregious error”!

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Mother was no grown up Wendy.  She understood how words could change everything.  That is why she never said, “You kids go play outside”.  She said, “I think that there is a new foreign country somewhere in the backyard.  Why don’t you children go explore it?”

Father also enjoyed using words that were worth saying.  In fact, he enjoyed using words of too many syllables to be written down here!  Father is a theologian and always believed that his kids are bright enough to know what “justification”, “redemption”, “sanctification”, and “eschatology” meant. 

I think that Dad and Mom understood that words were gifts from God.  They also understood that it is through words that we are introduced to God!

Do adults still read aloud to their children from the Bible?  Or do they think that their children are too dumb to understand what God has written to them?

As a child of God, I am thankful that He did not choose to speak to me in simple, nursery rhyme fashion!  Nor did He write a simpler “child’s version” of the Bible.

Let’s stop treating our children as though they are too weak to be given large ideas and big words.  Allow them to grow into theologians and sesquipedalians.  

It is truly a sad world to live in when we reduce our language to words of single syllables.  Let’s emancipate the minds of children everywhere!  It is time for Peter Pan, Wendy, John, and Michael to find their way back to Never Never Land.

Let me encourage you to try a few new phrases on your fledgling brood this week:

“Eschew obfuscation”  instead of “Stop making things so difficult!”

“Allay that cacophony” in place of “be quiet”

“Galloping is prohibited” rather than “stop running”

Take a cue from our Heavenly Father.  Use big words to express even bigger ideas to little ones with even littler understandings!  They, like you, are able to comprehend much when spoken to in love!

In addition to her love for sesquipedalian phrases, Karlena is someone who loves the LORD with her whole heart. She is an encourager, a fellow book-lover, a good friend, and a lovely example of a virtuous woman to all of us blessed enough to know her. Happily married to her high school sweetheart (who is Prince Charming in disguise) for the past 20 years, she has 10 of the world's most beautiful children with him.

The Heroes Among Us - Part I

Heroism. It is praised, sung, recounted, aspired to, and even worshiped, but how do you define the heroic?

Having grown up as children of this age, most of us would identify a hero as one who risked and sacrificed much - most notably his life - for the well-being of others. It's a definition deeply rooted in the Christian concept of love (John 15:13) and firmly fastened, even in non-believing American culture, by the weight of tradition - tradition that gave birth to our country as the founding fathers signed their death warrants to stand for the better future of coming generations. Of course, heroism as we know it today didn't begin with Declaration of Independence any more than the shifting definitions of our culture are original to the 21st century. Powerful deity-claimers, adept warriors, chivalrous nobles - all have, at some point in history, asserted this title. From whence have these claimants come, and have we begun, once again, to accept their less-than-worthy definitions?

In his fascinating study, The Book That Made Your World, Vishal Mangalwadi identifies three main phases of conceptual heroism: the classical hero, the medieval hero, and the modern hero. Classically, Mangalwadi observes, the Greco-Roman world lauded whoever held the greatest power. Requiring absolutely no moral guidelines or conscience, the "heroes" of this era (Alexander the Great, the Caesars, etc) were evil, self-absorbed, oppressive murders, able to claim deity and the right to be worshiped merely by virtue of their power. Evidence of this warped definition is further seen in the Greek mythologies, whose gods were good or evil as they liked (mostly the latter) and immoral, yet worshiped for the power they held. The classical era was a hopeless time for heroes.

Medieval heroism improved little upon the classical definition, the church's ornamental modifications failing still to address the heart issues of self-denial and elitist, upper-class superiority complexes. In exchange for power-hungry dictators, knights were the worshiped idols of the day. Exhibiting vast ability with a wide range of weapons, these "heroes" were those who could kill the best, and often did so with little regard of friend or foe until the Catholic church began to intervene. It was not enough, insisted the church, to be a nobleman who was good with the sword; thus the words "chivalry," "honor," "bravery," and "loyalty," began to embellish the peoples' definitions. Yet, in the end, these heroes were still the powerful upper class: those able to cut down opposition and threats one moment and turn to awe and flatter with words and courtly graces the next. The medieval era was a dignifying and adorning time of the classical hero.

Then, suddenly, unsuspectingly, all the swirling facades of gallantry and heroism were cast aside as one truly heroic man stood before the culmination of all past professions of heroism. Mangalwadi points to Roland Bainton's Here I Stand as the most succinct representation of the moment:

"The scene lends itself to a dramatic portrayal. Here was Charles, heir of a long line of Catholic sovereigns - of Maximilian the romantic, of Ferdinand the Catholic, of Isabella the orthodox - scion of the house of Hapsburg, lord of Austria, Burgundy, the Low Countries, Spain and Naples, Holy Roman Emperor, ruling over a vaster domain than any save Charlemagne, symbol of the medieval unities, incarnation of a glorious if vanishing heritage; and here before him a simple monk, a miner's son, with nothing to sustain him save his own faith in the Word of God. Here the past and the future were met."

 Martin Luther, a lowly monk of no prominent family, with no merit save his faith in God and iron-will resolve to stand by the Scriptures, confronted head-on hundreds of years of heroic claims and proved them all wrong. He was the real hero of the moment, and the people, reformers, and ages to follow him would recognize and rally to this "new" depiction of heroism: one who stands for what is right, and for the rights of others, even at risk of his own life. The era of the modern hero, marked by Luther, was a time of imitating Christ's heroism.

to be continued...

{Hello all! I missed last week's post! (I claim illness.) To make up for this sorry omission, there will be two posts this week, the next one being on Thursday. :) }
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My Goal is Not to Be

Some time ago, I struggled through a difficult phase - specifically in regards to relationships - in which I was forced to come face-to-face with a hard, Henry-Higgins reality: the world didn't need me to spin. Pathetic and humiliating as it is to admit, this was a bitter pill for me to swallow. I wanted to be wanted. I craved appreciation. I desired to be needed and valued.

While there may be nothing wrong in these yearnings, seeking their fulfillment in people is not only a symptom of messed-up priorities, but a danger. What energies will be sacrificed in fulfilling tasks to be appreciated by ___? What must I do, or who must I become, to be wanted by ___? The valuing of these perceptions quickly and silently cold-shoulders the most precious thing we can seek - Christ's approval - and leaves us, the ones for whom Christ died, feeling worthless and rejected. I had reached that point.

And yet, even as I realized this, even as I bowed in tears one night, acknowledging my misplaced priorities, even as I promised to give them up, and begged for strength, even as I knew that this was not who I wished to be - it hurt. Hurt that I wasn't this list of things to the people I knew. Hurt that, beyond not being needed, life would continue just as cheerily without me. Hurt that, apart from God, I was worth less than dirt.

The truth cuts deeply at times.

But truth is also the no-fail "bustin' outta here" plan for spirits held captive in cramped cells of darkness, depression, and rejection.

So, to see the truth, I wrote. Carefully, painfully, I noted each and every "what-I-want-to-be" desire, and then went back over them, prayerfully considering what God's approach to each of these qualities would be. Some wishes were more frivolous than others, but the overwhelming lesson I learned from that evening was that each of my yearnings were simply cheap versions of the plans God has for my life. He had placed the desires there, I had simply warped them. He had given me goals, and I had misapplied them. He alone valued me, even though He alone saw how little I, on my own,  was worth.

This list is a reminder of that night-gone-by, but it is also an encouragement for all the times to come.

~ My goal is not to be loved, but to love selflessly and unconditionally.

~ My goal is not to be needed, but to notice and meet the needs of others.

~ My goal is not to be appreciated, but to encourage others by being appreciative of them.

~ My goal is not to be known, but to know God and His calling upon my life.

~ My goal is not to be successful, but to 'lead a quiet life...that {I} may walk properly..."

~ My goal is not to be wanted, but to have such a relationship with my Savior as to want nothing else.

~ My goal is not to be accomplished, but to die to self and experience the unsurpassable joy of seeing God accomplish much more through me.

~ My goal is not to be beautiful, but to daily seek and behold the beauty of the LORD.

~ My goal is not to be knowledgeable, but to listen quietly and learn from the knowledge of others.

~ My goal is not to be popular, but to stand alone: quietly, contentedly, and fearlessly.

~ My goal is not to be stylish, but to lead a lifestyle defined by a deep relationship with God.

~ My goal is not to be funny, but to laugh daily with the joy of the LORD.

~ My goal is not to be athletic, but to run the great race of my spirit, tirelessly.

~ My goal is not to be strong, but to glory in weaknesses.

~ My goal is not to be right, but to be confident in Jesus' righteousness.

~ My goal is not to be competent, but to have a confidence in my Leader.

~ My goal is not to be memorable, but to be one who remembers the forgotten.

My goal is not to be me, but Christ's servant. Only in loosing the desire to make our own names will we be able to find our real identities.

May our goal be Christ, today and always.

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Horseshoes and Hand Grenades: A Drama

Scene I
Sarah: Mindlessly mouthing off.
Other Person: Offended.
Sarah: Well, seriously!

Sarah huffs to herself about how easily people are offended, muttering phrases such as "Obviously it wasn't mean that way," "Why did he have to become so offended?" and, "Good grief! Is all this reaction really necessary?"

Sarah self-righteously inserts space between herself and offended Other Person.

Sarah become convicted about attitude.

Sarah pouts about having to apologize.

Scene II
Sarah: Half-way apologizes for responding in an irritated way to Other Person's being offended.
Other Person: Unfooled. Still offended.
Sarah: Well, seriously!

Scene III
Sarah grouches through an undocumented amount of time, discontented with the lack of resolution, but fighting the acknowledgement that what was said was offensive.

Conscience: Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades. Apologize all the way or not at all, but don't fool yourself that such a measly half-way, half-hearted offering was actually an attempt at making things right.
Sarah: Oh, I do wish you would hush! I don't need that right now. What I said was not meant the way he took it! If I apologize completely, he'll think it was, and if I apologize completely with the disclaimers and explanations, it won't sound or be sincere.
Conscience: I'm just saying...
Sarah: Fine! But I'm not sorry because I it wasn't my intention to offend, and how can I apologize for that?

Sarah sits on the floor of her room, arms crossed, fighting conscience. Finally, she gives in, only to discover that, even though she now wants to apologize, she really is not even sorry yet. Realizing that prayer is her only answer, she then begs the LORD to change her heart and emotions and give her His perspective on the situation.

Scene IV
Sarah: Appropriate, miraculously heart-felt apology.
Other Person: Forgiveness.

Resolution has come once again to the relationship, as the LORD shows that it is only He who can provide the desire and the way of peace among people. This small snippet reminds us of the larger truths: that it is only through the LORD that peace can be attained between us and Himself, and that a half-way, "sort-of" apology is useless. "Close" obedience doesn't work like horseshoes and hand grenades.

{The End}

Photo Credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/43967421@N00/3014052413/in/photolist-5AkNLV-5Gob14-5X1a8z-61v9k4-6yuDmD-74jKzz-7dqMQN-7gVRKo-8AHEEh-7BgKzf-7MdMN3-er1LQi-er1Juc-er1EQT-er1YHz-erWXFh-er1BWp-erX4L3-er1Go6-erWZaY-er1SWn-er1HK6-er1TMB-er1Xm6-er1KiK-erX8EQ-er1BnB-erX7SG-erWUEb-erWWaY-erXcMs-erXbWh-er1Pfg-erX3aw-er1DeP-erX78W-erXdKW-erX9s3-er1Y64-er1B68-8MxcMV-8MxcCc-8MAifW-8Mxcmz-8AEAcv-8AHFrY-9wYSRA-9wVLZ8-c7hdYS-91HL1p-dZp6qC
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To Forget This Day

I love anniversaries. Dates of special epiphanies, events, or decisions always have - and always will be - worth celebrating. In a way, each day is mini-anniversary, marked by annual spiritual and intellectual growth, memorialized on the journal pages of by-gone years. Revelations gained, friendships forged, and the beauty of triumph through deepest pains - these are events to hold often before us, with teachable and thankful spirits.

But some things are best, forgotten.

At the ripe old age of 7, mom and dad began cautioning me about what I allowed my eyes to see: magazines in the store, movies at friends' houses, and even words in books. "Once an image is in your mind," my dad explained, "you can never completely erase it."  Even so, there are, tucked away in a dusty back corner of my mind, images I wish away. Yet, by the grace of my Savior, these pictures and thoughts are essentially forgotten. I do not see them, think about them, or relive them. My mind has been reborn to think on more excellent things.

However, until beauty and grace have filled the ugly spaces, distasteful memories - anniversaries of sin - cannot be forgotten. Today marks such an anniversary. Forty-one years ago today was made the most devastating, cold-blooded ruling this nation has ever seen. Forty-one years ago today, Roe v Wade reached its verdict.

True it is that the triumph of evil asks only for the passiveness of good. At a rally I attended this past Sunday, I learned that there are more "pro-life young people" in the States today than there were the year before Roe v Wade. While this is progress, I could not help wondering if there were actually more young people, or simply more young people willing to stand. Who among us is passionate and willing to stand up on an unchallenged issue? If there is no debate about the morality of stealing, do we still uncompromisingly teach that it is wrong? Or do we passively neglect the discussion, merely cringing when "exceptions" are made? What issues do we avoid "giving all diligence" in, because the final line hasn't yet been drawn on the wrong side, forcing our hands? Did abortion blind-side the Christians of the '70s?

Fifty-six times the bell rang on Sunday. Fifty-six. Each soul-shattering clang remembered not ten, not a hundred, not a thousand, but one million still, silent hearts. One million faces that will never wrinkle up in tears, smooth out at the sight of mama, or laugh at papa's silly antics. One million pairs of shoes that will never be tied. One million hugs that will never cling to a lonely neck.

Fifty-six times clanged the bell. Fifty-six million dead.

And I wept. Wept for the little ones who will never be, wishing I could hold them close and protect them from such carnage. Wept for the mothers who have thus ended so many lives, longing to hug them, and tell them about the unconditional, overpowering love and forgiveness my Father has for them. Wept for the desolation with which this country has brought upon and so injured itself.

In these brief 41 years, we have multiplied in unborn, innocent blood - by more than 2500% - the first 215
years of American military deaths. In these short 41 years, we, the people of the United States, have ended the lives of more than the combined populations of Canada and Romania. In these mere 41 years, millions have been lied to about the precious infants in their wombs, have been swindled, or allowed to remain willfully ignorant, as they become party to the destruction of lives.


This is a story with no happy ending - yet. But hope abounds. Abortion rates are dropping in the States, slowly and surely. While there are still thousands of abortion victims, there are also thousands who have been rescued: snatched from death by the prayers, sacrifices, and tireless efforts of those who see each life as sacred.

Oh, so sacred.

Increasingly, the personhood of the child in the womb will be a non-issue in a society that has lost its belief in the dignity of man. Stripped of the science and emotionalism in our debates, we will be left with the very heartbeat of our argument for the honoring of human lives: that Christ's blood was shed to remove all memory of our sin from before the Father.

Friends, let us do more than merely hold a conviction - let us act upon it. Let us work diligently and speak bravely for the lives of the unborn. Let us pray earnestly for the softening and salvation of those both administering and receiving abortions. Let us find ways to support those seeking life for their babies - volunteering our time, organizing fundraising. Let us work earnestly for the removal of this anniversary.

Some memories are best, forgotten.

New Year's Cleaning

It's 2014, and I'm in the midst of a surreal game of "looking-back." January has marked some pretty life-changing events in my life for the past couple of years, and I'm not sure if I'm disappointed or relieved that the last two weeks have seen nothing drastic, dramatic, or out of the ordinary. In fact, January rather appeared out of no where and is cruising along like any other old mind-your-own-business sort of month. Maybe it's just me, getting older, but the beginning of a fresh year with unlimited possibilities gives me a sort of restlessness I can't seem to shift. Over 300 days stretch before me, and a giddy sort of dizziness lays hold of my heart every time I think of all with which I want to fill them. There are so many books to read, improvements and experiments to try with my studio, travels to explore, friends to know better, lessons to learn, people to meet, and things to do that I am overwhelmed with both a sense of urgency and excitement. 

I want to be sure of where God wants me this year.

There is so much to challenge, see, and pursue - I cannot possibly do it all, but I dread complacency. Contentment was never really something with which I struggled. I am too easily contented; I was born complacent. It is my fear.

How I want to seize every opportunity the LORD sends my way! But as I go forward in planning this year, I want, most of all, to plan with my palms up and hands open. I want, most of all, to run after opportunity because I hear the Spirit telling me, "This is the way - come on!" I want, most of all, to know my King more, and understand better how I am to serve Him.

I want, most of all, to listen.

I want to rank lessons from the Scriptures over math or philosophy. I want to desire time on my face, seeking the LORD's direction more than coffee dates with friends or trips to NYC. I want to reflect and really chew on the lessons that I am taught and learn how to express them, rather than read a novel or scribble one-liners on facebook. I want to challenge my mind, and use it in an honest, transparent way that will honor the One who loves me more than I could begin to hope to understand.

And so, to think clearly, express fully, and share openly, this year, I resolve to write more. This year, I resolve to blog.

Not weeks on end of "Watch-It Wednesdays."
Not month-long summaries with pictures and thisismywholelifecrammedintoaparagraph descriptions.
Not weeks and months of silence.

This year, I resolve to blog every Monday because I love words, and I want to practice using them well in honor of the life-giving Word. 

There will still be "Watch-It Wednesdays" (sometimes).
There will still be pictures and journal-like entries about daily life (like throwing my cell phone away, or getting towed in Portland).
There will still be the occasional, completely random posting.

But most of all, I hope there will be the soap. Yep! Soap. The soap that the Master Cleanser uses to turn a moldering, lifeless mess into a fresh, new daughter.

Will you join me for my cleaning?

Watch-It Wednesday: If I Stand

Have you noticed that "Watch-It Wednesdays" are more frequently "Listen-To-This Wednesdays"? I considered re-titling them "Wordless Wednesdays," but then I'd feel compelled to not write anything and, well - we all know how much I like to talk, right?

This is an old song. An old song raw with a time-transcendent longing for heaven. An old song fresh with the realization of who we are before Christ. An old song marveling at the mystery of beauty around us, refusing to be enraptured even by the "good," in the precious hope of the perfect.

If you stand, stand on the promise. If you fall, fall on the grace. If you sing, sing for the Lord's joy. If you weep, weep with longing.

Have a blessed Wednesday!

Five Minute Friday: Small

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"Let it go."

"What are you talking about, LORD? I already have. Look, my hands are practically empty!"

"Let it go."

"God, I said You could have everything, and You've taken me at my word. Look, all that's left are the few crumbs of good works I can do."

"Let it go."

"What, LORD? How can You ask this? Don't You realize if I let that go, I have to give up all the good I'm doing there, too? That can't be Your will - You don't really want me to turn my back on that."

"Let it go."

"LORD, look. If it was actually a bad thing, I would let it go. I would. It's not like I have to have it. If I was completely sure it was really You asking me give it up (You know, not just a self-inflicted humility test), I would do it in a jiffy. I just know you can't really be asking me to give up a tiny piece of self-contentment at the sacrifice of all the good I do there. That's why I'm not giving it up. You know?"

"Let it go."

"Lord, it's such a small thing. Can't we just move on?"

"Let it go."

...

"Let it go."

...

"Let it go."

"Ok."

"LORD, I can't. Please help me."

And He does. And suddenly, I realize that the "small stumbling" in the grand good was actually a great stumbling in a small good. And I realize, I am free.

 One word. Five minutes. No edits. It's Five Minute Friday!

Five Minute Friday: Lonely



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From family to family, from generation to generation, from father to son ~

Wept over, laughed over, smiled over, frowned over,

Revered, honored, respected, treasured,

The new Bible.

From estate sale to collector's shelf, from antique shop to museum,

Exclaimed over, touched over, studied over, bargained over,

Valued, priced, bought, sold,

The old Bible.

From honored to priced, from treasured to sold, from respected to valued,

Wept over, bargained over, smiled over, studied over,

Years, generations, world views, dust,

The lonely Bible.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

"And these words which I command you today shall be in your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, when you walk by the way, when you lie down, and when you rise up...." (Deuteronomy 6:7-8)

 One word. Seven minutes (I cheated :). No editing. It's Five Minute Friday!