Perilous Gift Giving and the Perfect Gift

I have always been fascinated with the first witnesses to Jesus' arrival here on Earth. They are just not the people you would have expected deity to be presented to. A carpenter and his teenage wife. Some dirty outcast shepherds. Foreign gentile starwatchers. An aged priest and widow, long past their prime and importance. There were no nobles, no religious leaders, no government leaders by the manger. Just simple people, overlooked or held in contempt by most.

God set the stage with a theme that would continue throughout the New Testament. All of Jesus life, He would enter into the lives of the poor, the desperate, the rejected, the unclean, the irreligious, the sick, and so on.  Even foreigners would have encounters with Jesus which would give them opportunity to know the One true God, and His Son sent to redeem them from their sin. No one expected the Messiah to come in such a way … and yet … they should have. God told them it would be this way.

The prophet Isaiah said "The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned …. For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given,

and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace."    (Isaiah 9:2, 6) We live in a world where the shadow of death is constantly evident. The fruit of the fall from innocence is a teenager facing a life-threatening illness in a hospital room. It is a lonely widow, whose children live far away and are too busy to realize their mother's grief. It's single moms struggling to make ends meet, struggling to raise kids while working full time, struggling to keep their heads above water. Life in a sin-struck world is hard and messy and lonely, and it has been since the first sin corrupted God's beautiful creation. Then the Light dawned.

God Himself entered into our mess, not with the glory and recognition He deserved, but with simplicity, and the witness of people  like you and me.  All his life, Jesus entered into the misery and pain of those around Him. He wept with the grieving, touched the sick, fed the hungry, taught the confused. It was only through sharing their painful, difficult lives that the Savior could bear their burdens … and their guilt.

"After the suffering of his soul, he will see the light [of life] and be satisfied; by his knowledge my righteous servant will justify many, and he will bear their iniquities." (Isaiah 53:11)

Matthew tells us that "in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God …. In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it …. And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us." (Matthew 1:1, 4, 5, 14.) God didn't just send us words, because words weren't enough for us to understand. He sent us His word in the flesh; He sent us Jesus. Jesus was His best gift, wrapped up in simple packaging, and yet shining with a blinding light in spite of it.

Before Jesus returned to heaven for a little while, He commanded His followers to share His good news--His gospel. Often I find that command intimidating, because I'm not one who comes up with words easily when I'm talking to people. I never feel like I know what to say, and so sharing the Gospel seems difficult. But as I look at the way God shared His good news, I realized that what I'm called to do is not merely to tell the good news, but to share it. I'm called to share what I have with the family struggling to pay their bills. I'm called to cry with the mom whose son is rebelling and getting into trouble. I'm called to carry groceries with the ailing elderly couple across the street. I'm called to listen to what most consider mundane chattering by the socially awkward outcast.  I'm called to enter into the difficulty and suffering of other people's lives, and to DO what I can to relieve their suffering. Then I'm called to tell them it is because Jesus gave so much to me that I want to care for them.

Sharing the Gospel is so much more than telling people about Jesus, it's showing them Jesus. And it's hard and messy and expensive. It costs me time, money, emotional vulnerability, and humility. It is dangerous and risky. But isn't giving any good gift a little risky? Doesn't any good gift worth giving cost me something valuable? Isn't the Gospel a gift worth offering to those who don't have it?

Redeeming a Shame-filled Heritage

It is not unusual to find that the genealogy of Jesus is skimmed over at Christmas time. We are eager to get to the miraculous conception and the baby in the manger, and we hurry through all those difficult names and messy, sin-filled lives. We consider those men sort of insignificant - extras in the cast of a wonderful story. Personally, I love to linger over those names as I prepare for the Christmas story. I've always loved the thought that the people mentioned were real live breathing people, with jobs and families, feelings and dreams. Some of them I know well, because chapters of scripture are written about them, but some are mysterious, and I wonder what their lives were like. For years I've  wondered with amazement at the women mentioned in Jesus' genealogy - Tamar who seduced her father-in-law to have a child, Rahab the Jericho harlot who saved the Israelite spies, Ruth the Moabitess who loyally served her Jewish mother-in-law, and Bathsheba who committed adultery with a king. None of them are actually women that Jewish law and tradition would have considered upright and praiseworthy, but each, in her brokenness and sin, was made worthy because God chose them to be a part of His own Son's earthly story.

Then it hit me this morning. One of the first sacrifices Jesus made for us was to identify with a heritage of people who had messy, complicated, and very sinful lives. It wasn't just the women who were "disreputable" in some way, it was ALL of the people mentioned. Idolaters, adulterers, murderers, liars, cheaters, cowards, thieves … the list goes on and on. Even though some of the men mentioned were considered righteous by God, even those men committed some pretty awful sins. These were the men that the holy, righteous, good Son of God identified Himself with. He set aside His very identity as the only Son of God, and exchanged it for a genealogy of men and women who were known for their shortcomings, weaknesses, and sins. That horrifies me … and at the same time I find great comfort in it. To think of the burden Jesus bore at being related to such people almost embarrasses me. But then I realize that it is because of this that I can understand and accept His willingness to identify Himself with me. It fills me with awe that God is able to use even MY weak, broken, sinful life to bring about great things, because He has used lives like mine for generations past to bring about the full revelation of Himself in His Son.

There is great comfort for me in this list of men and women. As I look at this long list of names and see among them men who failed as fathers, I realize that God can bring about good for and from our children, even when we fail. As I see men and women marked through generations for their sins I realize God can use sinners like me. As I pick out names of no ones, I see that God is able to use simple, unremarkable people for great glory and blessing. God brings good out of failure and sin. God brings blessing to those who don't deserve it. God uses the weak and broken to show His strength. That is the whole message in the Christmas story.

There is one more surprise in this "boring list of names." We live in a world where families are divided and filled with disputes and dissension. In broken families husbands and wives fight, control over children is argued over, and children are left trying to figure out how to put together a genealogy of parents, step-parents, half-siblings, live-in boyfriends or girlfriends, etc. Joseph had no actual claim to the paternity of Jesus, and he knew it. And yet here in Matthew God does not dispute Joseph's lineage in the story of His Son, but proclaims it. God used the illegitimate relationship of Joseph to fulfill His very true and legitimate prophecies of His Son's genealogy. It makes sense. None of us are really "legitimate" children of God; we are all adopted. We are only made legitimate by God's One and Only Son. The only One who could claim His true paternity was of God was Jesus, yet instead of clinging to this identity and keeping it for Himself, He shared it. Isn't sharing Jesus and opening up our homes - our families - one of the best gifts we can give to those who don't have Him?

The Power of Desperation

Based on Matthew 9:24-34

She had a slow, steady hemorrhage. We aren't told why. I've always heard it presented as a medical condition, but we don't know. Perhaps she tried to abort a baby. Perhaps she continued to choose to live with an abusive husband. Perhaps she didn't have a choice but to live with him. We don't know if her continuous bleeding was the result of some natural consequence of living in a fallen world, or if it was the consequence of her own personal sins. We just know she suffered … and nothing she had tried could cure her. In fact, she got worse.

She was at the point where she would try anything, because she had already tried everything. What she had already tried had caused more suffering, in addition to the suffering of not curing her. Then she heard about Jesus. I wonder what went through her mind. Was she skeptical that he might be able to help her? Did she consider, for just a moment, the effort might be too great to face another disappointment? Did she wonder what additional suffering His methods might cause? It had been over a decade, and she had only gotten worse. After a decade, you begin to believe that things really cannot change. Those beliefs war with hope.

But she was desperate for change. Desperate to live again. Desperate to worship and socialize without the stigma of being unclean. So seeing one more chance, even if it was only a small chance, she chose to take it. She had to do it secretly. A man as important as the Rabbi would never touch a woman like her--would never sacrifice his spiritual cleanliness. And after all, she was only a woman, not someone of importance like the Synagogue ruler He was helping when she came upon Him. Her skeptical friends and family might try to discourage her. She had heard amazing stories … stories that couldn't be true … but if they were … she wouldn't even need to get his attention ...would she?

It didn't take great faith to reach out and touch his robe, it took great desperation and a little faith. It took full awareness of the insufficiency of her own weakness, and certainty that He was her last hope. Bolstered by the stories she overheard as she tried to press through the crowds of people all wanting to see the Master, touch the Master, talk to the Master, she crept closer and closer, pushing back nervousness and restraining excitement. Again, I wonder, what went through her mind? "He doesn't even have to know that I touched Him." "I don't even have to bother Him." "He is enough to heal even a woman like me."

She didn't expect much from Him--no time, no eye contact, no words, not even His own touch back. At the same time, in an instant, she expected the world from Him. Complete healing was impossible ...but she had heard that He revived a dead man. He was One who had done the impossible, hadn't He? Could He do it for her? Would He do it for her? So crawling on her knees through a sea of legs, she pushed into the crowd hoping no one would recognize her and push her away, and she reached out her hand … and she touched the hem of His robe.

She didn't slowly recover. She didn't need an expert opinion. We are told that she instantly knew she was well. She wasn't the only one who knew. Jesus knew too. And although He stopped to look for her … to ask for her … I'm not entirely sure He needed to do those things to find her. He was God, knowing all things, and yet He asked her to come forward. She hadn't taken anything from Him that He was unwilling to give, but He wanted to give her more. She thought that her greatest need was freedom from her physical suffering, but Jesus wanted to free her for more. He wanted to free her to know Him, and to know how much He loved her … loved healing her.

Inching toward Him to touch His robe must have seemed a simple feat as her fear mounted at His question. It would have been so easy to walk away--after all there was a huge throng around Him and even His disciples were urging Him to move on to the Synagogue ruler's home. But just as she knew He had healed her, she knew He was looking for her, and she couldn't run away from Him. So she fought against her fear, stepped forward, and confessed to being the one who had drained Him of His healing power. Had she compromised the possibility of the rich man's daughter being healed? Had she made this esteemed Rabbi unclean? What judgment would she see when she looked in His eyes? Could she look in His eyes? No. She fell at His feet to beg for His mercy. She confessed to being the one who touched Him, in a crowd full of people who were touching Him.

I wonder at what point she looked up at Him. Did she hear His words first, or did she steal a glance, and get to watch as He spoke to her? Knowing Jesus, He gave her more than she had hoped for. Not just healing through the touch of His robe, I like to think He bent down, looked her in the eyes, put His gentle hand on her shoulder and spoke to her with the tenderness of a Rescuer. I know that He saw more than a woman who wanted to be healed from a physical disease, because He pronounced freedom from all of her suffering. No longer would she feel like an outcast. No longer would she feel like a burden. No longer would her draining hemorrhage feel like a drain on all who came into contact with her. She was whole. Because Jesus healed her, she was well, and she could live in joy and peace. She could always remember … she was loved.

Wrestling with Divorce . . . Again and Again

There are terrible things that happen in life that leave us forever marked--scarred by sin and slightly more aware of our complete dependence upon God. Divorce is definitely one of those things. My journey through it was awful . . . and eye-opening . . . and a source of many lessons and of incredible wisdom that I find myself using now to encourage others. It seems as if lately there is a spike in the threat of divorce against married friends of mine, and I find myself drowning again in the messiness and heartbreak of it.
Much of what I have been taught about divorce is based on several passages in scripture. It seemed so clear to me when I was younger and even pretty clear when I went through my own separation and divorce. But after a decade of listening to stories from others, of seeing complicated situations, and aching with dear friends over decisions they didn't want to have to make but were forced into, I've learned so much more about applying God's Word to such a messy choice.
I don't want to confuse anyone. I DO believe that God's Word is to be taken literally. I believe that it is the supreme and final source of guidance in any situation because 2 Timothy 3:16 says it is. I think I've just come to realize that as sin compounds and collides with the sins of others, often the clean application of God's Word doesn't seem as easy as it does in simpler circumstances.

I do believe that God never wants divorce--that it is a very last resource to be used carefully by believers in very specific circumstances. However, I also believe that while man looks on the outward appearance, God looks at the heart. I have heard stories of people who divorced under "biblical allowances," and at that particular time it was clear from the way they expressed themselves and pursued it that divorce was not being used for the purpose that I believe God has given us laws--to draw us closer to Him and to reconcile relationships between sinners. I also wrestle with some of the specifics of the few New Testament passages that instruct us on divorce. What does it mean for an unbelieving spouse to "leave"--are we talking physically, legally, or relationally? What about a professing "believer" who leaves, initiates divorce and doesn't repent? How do you know he was really a believer? Are marriage and divorce even things that God has given the state the right to regulate, or is there some higher law that He governs? There are just so many things I don't understand.

So I come to it like this. It is my DUTY as a sister in Christ to confront sin that I see, supporting it from scripture. I do that because I know how dangerous sin is--it is a slippery slope straight to hell, and into an abyss of feeling abandoned by God. Willful and continued sin dishonors God and makes His name which we as believes bear a mockery instead of something of wonder and awe. However, because sin is very, very messy . . . because it quickly becomes complicated, and is compounded by the confusion and consequences of tons of sins committed by all of us sinners, all converging upon each of our lives, there are many times it is hard for me to tease apart another person's specific sins from those of others. Only God can see an individual's heart. I have to trust Him to be better than I am at convicting you and drawing you away from what is devastating.

For those put in the difficult place of considering divorce, my counsel would be first of all to pray FERVENTLY about every decision you make. Pray for Him to close the doors and prevent you from doing something if it is not His will. While godly counsel and submission to church leadership is ESSENTIAL, you must also seek and follow the Holy Spirit's leading, being very careful to try to discern your motives. Because separation and divorce are so emotionally and personally charged, move slowly if you can, and be prepared at any time to wait or stop if the Lord so directs you. DON'T worry about the money or risks if you feel like He is slowing you down or stopping you. Just trust Him to provide or to perform a miracle! I can attest that even though there were a few times in my process that I was very unsure about the biblical legality of what I was doing (although my church leaders and wise friends assured me I was justified), eventually the Lord took the whole thing out of my hands and worked it out so I didn't and still don't have to wonder about my role in the process. Finally seek restoration and repentance at all cost. Even if you don't feel like it, even if you don't think it's what you want, pray for what would best reveal Christ in your life and to the world. It is amazing what God can do to repair our emotions even when we think we are past the point of forgiveness and healing.

One image that has kept coming to me as I've wrestled with this was that our God, who DESPISES human sacrifice, commanded one of His own people to sacrifice his son. Abraham obeyed right up until God stopped his hand with the knife in it. Sometimes God asks of us things that don't make sense with what we know about God and His commands, but He wants us to do what is right, so He will not let us go too far if we are sincerely pursuing what He wants and instructs us to do. It is really up to you and God to try to discern your heart's motives and desires, and to bring them into submission to Him. Thankfully, He is a God of grace and mercy, forgiving us of our sin. Although you will see INCREDIBLE things happen if you totally submit to God, even in those things you do not think you can give or do, He will work out His best for your life even if you cling to some of your own will and make some wrong choices.

Life Without Limits

It is easy to dream about what life would be without limits. The older boys and I watched a movie last night about a man who found a drug to open the limitations of his mind so he would be Limitless. I’ve been pondering the possibilities of this for months, since the movie trailer came out. I was curious to see where it would go. What would it be like to have no limits on how we used our brains? What could we accomplish? Wouldn’t it be a great thing?

Hissssssss . . . I hear the snake. You can be like God! Although that’s what he’s saying, I know that what he means is that I can be God!

Of course imagining life without limits is nothing new. Although the movie applies this freedom to intelligence, we’ve been imagining the limitless life for as long as we’ve faced limits. Lamech boasted to his ancient peoples of the vengeance that would be visited upon anyone who harmed him. Hercules, possessing god-like strength, defied the Greek gods and attained a place on Olympus for himself. Superman walked around Metropolis as Clark Kent by day and as the hero by night.

The problem with our imaginations of limitlessness is that we dream of limitlessness with virtue. Even when Eddie Morra makes a stupid choice to take an unknown pill, to enlist the financial aid of a bookie, to lie, steal, kill to maintain his power, we are convinced it is out of necessity. But we are corrupt. We are from birth battling sin natures fully capable of the most heinous evils ever perpetuated. A limitless life in virtue would be a grand thing indeed, but what would it be like if Nero, Hitler, Saddam Hussein had been without limits? And how quickly would our baser, idolatrous, sinful natures take over were we given abilities without limits?

“Then the LORD God said, "Look, the human beings have become like us, knowing both good and evil. What if they reach out, take fruit from the tree of life, and eat it? Then they will live forever!" Genesis 3:22 (NLT)

We view limits as a curse—as something holding us back from all we can be. Is it actually a blessing not to live in sin without limitations?

Lights! Action! . . . Stillness.

There have been several times in my life when I knew I was so dependent upon God that I found it easy to fast. I have done frequent, regular short fasts, and I have done more lengthy ones--one lasting even a full week. It has been a long time since I have fasted though. Lately I have cycled up and down with a sense that I am only aimlessly wandering through life. It has been hard to see a long-term purpose to my life, although I have always believed God has one for me. I have been struggling with discouragement, frustration, feelings of being overwhelmed, and hopelessness concerning my future.

Over the years, I have discovered things about myself. One of them is that when the going gets tough, Lisa just puts her fingers in her ears or sticks her head in the sand and tries to pretend for a while that she's a super-crime-fighter or a hotly pursued beauty or a witty entertaining writer. Of course nothing helps you drown out the present reality like . . . well . . . pretending, and there's nothing like escaping to a TV show or game to pretend! Over the last months (or years?) I have begun to escape more and more to my happy places. Sure enough, the pain and uncertainty of life . . . the loneliness . . . was drowned out by a world of living color and sound! Of course, eventually you have to turn the electronic devices off, or you have to try to sleep, and then you find things even worse than you left them. (Amazing how those bills and dishes pile up the more you ignore them!)

While reading the book God, I Need Help some months ago, I began asking myself some very difficult questions. Why couldn't I hear Jesus like author Linda Heaner was able to? Why was my life so unsettled? Was I really following Jesus in spite of my circumstances like I once had, or could I really say that any more? How could I constantly miss or forget all the ways God had provided for our family over the years? Over the weekend, I realized that I couldn't hear God because there was just too much noise in my life. God speaks often through His efforts to comfort us, and while I was drowning out the pain, I was drowning out the comfort too.

With great fear and trepidation, I made a decision. I would fast for a week from all electronic entertainment. No Twitter. No Facebook. No TV, movies, or DVD's. Even my iPod would only be used for music or to check necessary information (like the weather, Bible references, or the news!). I went into it praying heavily for help--I don't have a very good track record for following through on goals I set. I anticipated extreme withdrawals as I dodged any entertainment my kids were enjoying while I suffered the extreme boredom of  . . . nothing.

On Monday I got up fully intending to see it through. I had made myself accountable to my boys, and I knew they would be watching to blow the whistle on me. But by the end of the first day, I was amazed at how relaxed I was. Instead of trying to figure out how to cram a half hour of quiet time into my day, I had spent the day talking to God, meditating on scripture, and thinking. Thinking! It had been a long time since I had done that. I confessed more sins than I cared to realize, and began tackling tasks I had been putting off. Instead of finding boredom, when I had "free time" I was suddenly remembering to pray for something, or to work a little on a project I had put off. School with my boys became a delight instead of a chore, and we even ate at the dinner table together one night! It was glorious! It was delightful!

I reentered the world of media with trepidation, planning to limit myself. But now here I am, months later, consumed again by the noise and lights and distractions of a media-infused life. Over and over I hear that still, small voice, wooing me . . . whispering . . .

So if your eye—even your good eye—causes you to lust, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. And if your hand—even your stronger hand—causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell.   Mat 5:29-30

We think of the "big troubles" as hard to handle . . . those things that we find we have to surrender to God because we are painfully aware that we cannot manage them ourselves. But I'm slowly learning that, for me at least, it is the smallest things that are deceptive. I need God in my entertainment choices, in selecting the food I will eat, in how I respond to an angry child. I'm tempted to think I have those things under my control . . . but I don't. I suspect that it is in the little things that the world around me can see God in my life most easily, not that it's always as obvious that He is the one enabling me to be patient, kind, faithful, gentle . . . but it is in the constant evidence of those things in my life, and in their continuation in the crises, where God's character is really revealed.

Grieving the Absence of Intimacy

Anyone who has experienced grief over the loss of someone they love knows that you never really just "get over" it.  I have realized in the last months that I am in a different place in living as a single mother.  For a long time after my separation and divorce, I grieved the loss of my best friend and the man I loved. I ached with loneliness and with the absence of a husband's counsel in difficulties and help in shouldering the work of raising three young boys. But recently I have discovered a shift in what causes this ache.

People often say to me that they don't know how I do it--homeschooling three boys, managing our home, taking care of myself, etc.  After almost ten years of it, I don't even think about it being unusual anymore, and I have adjusted my expectations and routines so that the work itself doesn't seem like it's impossible anymore. Additionally my kids have grown to ages that are demanding in different ways, but they are also better able to contribute to the family needs and to offer the pleasure of more mature relationships.  God has also been extremely gracious to me over the years, giving me so much support, encouragement, and counsel through covenant family in our church, people who didn't just sit on the outside and watch me try to parent alone, but who joined with me and took upon themselves my hurts, frustrations, needs, and weaknesses. It was such a huge comfort to have moms to go out with and talk to, to receive anonymous financial support when I didn't know where money would come from, or to just hear someone say "You're doing a great job." But while my previous pain was caused by grieving through loss, my new one is one that comes from a continuing lack.

I don't expect God to fill my new need in the same ways, because it is a need for deep intimacy.  I ache for connection at the deepest levels--and for the resulting touches, looks, and words that come from that kind of intimacy.  The problem with finding this is that you really can't have this kind of relationship with someone other than a spouse. That's what God designed marriage to fulfill! While I have friends with whom I am completely open and honest with, friends who bear the most uncomfortable aspects of being my friend (and bear it well, I might add!), there are natural limits to their availability. They have husbands, children, commitments of their own that I know I cannot be placed ahead of.  Typically family might fill this empty place--parents or siblings stepping in to love and care for me, sometimes maybe a little too much--but even my family relationships are newly developing or absent as a result of parents who are no longer alive. [I retained a wonderful relationship with one set of in-laws who are now my "mom" and "dad," and are completely committed to me. However we are still developing family "history" and experience that results in deep intimacy.]

As I pose my questions to God about this new need, His answer is clear. Even in a good marriage my deepest needs for intimacy are only met through Him.  I'm really struggling in my relationship with my Beloved lately--surrendering to idols time and energy that should be His, resisting His wooing, ignoring His call for my attention. Again and again, I hear Him gently reminding me that He is the only source of fulfillment. Do I believe it? I want to believe it, but no. My choices haven't changed, so really, I don't believe. The challenge before me is not to change my circumstances, nor is it to wait until God changes them, but to pray for Him to help my unbelief and to fill me with an unquenchable thirst for Him alone.

A Storyteller Without a Story

Often I hear myself complaining that I don't know what it is God wants me to do. Actually, that is just not true. I have some very specific directions God has laid on my heart over the years.

I've been called to minister to women. Many, many years ago, God placed it on my heart to minister to women, and over those years, I've come to understand that this call takes on lots of different appearances. Whether it is comforting a woman facing a crises like mine, encouraging a mom to minister to her family in the way God has called her, or teaching a Junior High Bible study, I have learned that encouraging women to think and live biblically is an important calling, even if no one ever knows my name.

I've been called to raise three boys, often with only God's help. These three souls are important to Him. Maybe I don't always understand why. In the middle of one of the frequent contests to prove who is the greatest, strongest, smartest, wittiest . . . I often wonder. But these three men-in-training are very important to God and are critical elements to His plan in the work He is doing.

I've been called to be a storyteller. In wrestling with my modest photography skills, I discovered that for me photography is merely another tool to tell a story. Like words, which I love, communicating what God shows me all around me is important to me because it is something God has gifted me to do for Him. I realized it was OK that I don't have mad-skills as an artistic, creative photographer. God has enabled me to use photography and writing to tell stories and communicate His character to others.

I woke up this morning thinking about these things. I felt guilty . . . again . . . for the way I squander my time. And it hit me . . . . I've turned myself into a storyteller without a story. In striving to be whatever I see that other people are . . . in trying to shut out the painful suffering of the lessons God is teaching me (so I can share them with others) . . . I've neglected the very things He has given me to do. So I'm repenting again. Deciding to write again. Attempting to view my meanderings and trailblazings in this land of teenage boys as my God-given wilderness where He has placed me to display His goodness and glory.

Repenting and setting out . . . again.

2010 Christmas Meditation #1

For years I thought that Christmas was about the perfect family holiday, full of traditions, and food made only once a year, and the perfect gifts, and everyone you love around you all happy and enjoying one another. After I was married and had a home of my own, I worked tirelessly (OK, I actually was VERY tired) to create the perfect holiday traditions for my family, incorporating some of my own childhood traditions with my husband's, and some of our own ideas as well. When the kids came along, I renewed my efforts to weave together the real meaning of Christmas with our own special ways of celebrating it and enjoying one another. Of course, every year, I got to Christmas day with those few things still unfinished, with a couple presents forgotten--it wasn't perfect, but it came close.  Or did it? Our first Christmas with our first baby was also the first Christmas after my mom went home to be with the Lord. One Christmas my husband completely missed Christmas day because he had food poisoning. Many Christmas celebrations found my husband out working his beat as a sheriff's deputy, or us rushing from one family member's house to another's, ending the day exhausted.

For years I thought I knew what God wanted me to have in the way of a "perfect" family. Oh, not perfect in the sense of sinless, but living our lives together biblically and growing in our love and service of Jesus and one another.  I worked very hard to be what I thought was the "perfect" wife and mother. I tried to encourage my husband to be the best he could be and I also tried to show grace and forgiveness when he wasn't (because I knew full well I wasn't!) I read books to become a better mother, a better housekeeper, a better Christian.  I made lists and tackled goals.  Life was moving along beautifully, or so I thought. Then one tragedy hit after another--the losses of my parents, and my marriage, debilitating health issues, the slow dwindling of my financial security until I was living on manna from heaven--life became very hard, and I felt all the time like I was barely keeping things together. I watched as my family moved from what I thought was "perfect" to what seemed to be barely functional. This was not what I had grown up expecting! This was not what I wanted, or what I thought God had planned for me.

I was reflecting on the beginning of the Christmas story today.

Oh what a precious promise,
Oh what a gift of love;
Joseph makes his choice to do
What few men would have done:
To take Mary as his bride,
When she's already carrying a child
That isn't his own.
Oh what a precious promise;
Mary and the child will have a home.

     (Precious Promise, by Steven Curtis Chapman)

Mary was a simple Jewish girl. She had lived a "perfect" life--simple and reverent, awaiting the day she would marry and have a perfectly simple home and family. God's plan for her was anything but simple.

Joseph was an earthy carpenter. He had lived an industrious life, perfectly suited to a man of the working class.  It had come time for him to marry, and he had chosen well--a simple girl, from a simple family, but perfect for him. Life was moving along beautifully, of so he thought. God's plan was anything but simple, anything but expected . . . but it was perfect.

God's plan for Mary and Joseph wasn't the common, expected plan for a young, simple Jewish couple--work, family, life, faith.  It turned their lives upside down. It brought challenges into their lives from every front. Their friends and family thought they were scandalously sinful and probably even crazy.  They ran from government oppression for which their baby was the cause.  They had to leave everyone they loved at a time when those dear people would suffer extreme loss and grief.  They had to leave a home, and an established occupation, and travel long distances with a young baby. They had to try to parent every other kid they had in the shadow of a perfect one, and they had to deal with their own sinful parenting in contrast to a sinless child (Ugh! The thought of that makes me glad I was the one chosen!) Eventually they would have to watch as their son was rejected, persecuted, gossiped about, and Mary would even have to watch her completely innocent son put to death on a cross. They had to wrestle with all of the worst of humanity in glaring contrast to the perfection of heaven, and up close they had to watch as humanity rejected what they knew was holy. Life did not seem perfect after they became the parents of the baby Jesus. It was hard and painful.

Once again today, I was reminded that the Christmas story was not about a lovely little tradition tied up in a pretty bow. The gorgeous nativity scenes we set out in our homes were not what the presence of littered hay, and animals, some dirty travel gear, and the remnants of childbirth would have looked like. The scent of cinnamon and spice candles does not accurately represent the stench of a lowly Galilean stable where a baby had just been delivered.  The aftermath of the birth of this holy king did not glow even as the shepherds knelt and the star shown down.  The long years after the baby arrived  most certainly did not seem to unfold perfectly as anyone else would have planned. But then, perfection couldn't look like anyone would have expected it to, because this world was far from perfect.  The world was corrupt, sinful, painful, and awful as the glory, beauty, and perfection of heaven was poured into it.

What was perfect was the baby held in the new parents' arms. What was perfect was the plan no one expected--a plan written by a perfect God from before time began. What would be perfect was what God brought out of the imperfect world after Jesus came. My life . . . your life . . . on their own--they aren't perfect. But with Jesus they are exactly what God planned for them to be, and that makes it perfect. Christmas isn't about a perfect tradition, it's about a messy one. When I don't get my decorations up "on time," when I struggle to smile because I miss family members and traditions that only I remember, when I can't buy presents for my own kids . . . it's exactly the kind of life that Jesus came to be a part of--a messy, troubled, painful, imperfect one.  A perfect God came into a very imperfect world, and I am a part of the miracle that He is still working today revealed in that one event 2000 years ago. That is a reason to celebrate. That is Christmas.

Remember, I'm the Bride?

 "An excellent wife who can find?

Her worth is far above jewels

The heart of her husband trusts in her

And he will have no lack of gain."

Proverbs 31:10  (from verses 10-31)

During the year of my engagement to be married, I memorized Proverbs 31:10-31, aspiring to be that kind of wife and mother.  Over the years, God would bring the passage back to my mind, convicting me of neglect or encouraging me in my efforts.  After my husband and I divorced, the scripture became a knife, reminding me painfully of days when I was full of hopes and dreams, and contrasting them with the chaos that has seemed to characterize my life in the last decade. Yet every time the enemy of my soul snidely reminds me that I "failed" as a wife, and might be "failing" as a mother, the still, sweet voice of my Beloved interrupts, reminding me that "He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow." (Deut 10:18) When my husband abandoned me, God stepped in and took his place. He is my husband, and I am His bride.

When I think of my role this way, it relieves a lot of pressure. I am worth more than precious jewels to him--I am His treasure! Over the years, I have slowly learned to consider God this way. When I make a dumb mistake, I often find myself remembering how my husband would show me grace, even though he wasn't condoning the mistake. God's tenderness and love are even stronger, so I try to consider what my husband would have told me, and listen to that. Sometimes that means returning the foolish purchase, but sometimes it is just a caution to be more careful next time. Or I remember how he would have encouraged me to do something good for myself instead of pinching the pennies like normal. Most of all, I remind myself to go to my Beloved for answers, for provision, for help. He wants to help me because He loves me!

One of the lies the enemy of my soul uses against me is that all my failures, sins, and weaknesses are "messing up" what God has given me to do. But the heart of my Beloved trusts in me! And because of Him, there is no lack of gain to Him because of me! I'm not the comely outcast that barely made it into His graces, I'm His beautiful bride, beloved by Him and elevated to the status of wife! I've been given the place of coworker and coheir! He only expects of me what He knows I am capable of, and what He has designed for me to do. If I don't do more than that, He's still satisfied!

"Listen, O daughter, consider and give ear. 

Forget your people and your father's house! 

The KING is enthralled by your beauty! 

Honor Him, for He is your Lord."  Psalm 45:11

What I Would Have Said

Last year our church began a new tradition of having a Thanksgiving service the Sunday evening before Thanksgiving.  We come together and sing and there are open mics for those who want to share what God has done for them during that year.  I am always humbled as I hear more stories of healing and of faithfulness through continued sickness, of restored marriages, of the provision of jobs. I love hearing kids who are grateful for families, schools, and friends--I was one of those not long ago (OK. Longer than  I care to admit.), and it is an amazing testimony to realize extremes in God's protection of you as a child. I am usually a pretty outgoing soul, and I love my share of the spotlight, but I have not been eager to get up on these couple of occasions. It's not that I'm not grateful, because God has done so many things for me, big and small. I'm just not sure what to say. How can I get up and share in only a few minutes the vast number of things that God has done for me in the course of a year.Tonight I was trying to form my thoughts, but for me it's so much easier to write it. 

I grew up in a large gregarious extended family. Every holiday or birthday I was surrounded with aunts, uncles, and cousins. I had a very close-knit neighborhood, where the kids banded together and created adventures, the grown-ups had regular yard sales, and we were in and out of each others' homes and lives constantly.  Even my church was a tight group--my parents were always going to another couple's home or having kids from a family in the church to spend the night.  My family was pretty close to ideal--including sit-down meals, yearly vacations, PTA meetings, and parent sponsored parties. Life was safe and comfortable and full of relationships. It isn't surprising that I married into the same kind of family. My husband's immediate family was full of brokenness, but his extended family relationships were very similar to mine--loud, busy, loving, and involved with each other. I felt completely at home with them.  It was my every intention to raise my kids just the same way, in the middle of their very large, very busy, very relational family.

God's plan for them and for me was different.  Over the years, my big extended family grew and changed, and some estrangements and grudges weakened the involvement with each other.  He took my mother home to heaven just after my first son was born.  Later He took my husband from our home when we divorced, and with it some of the family I loved. Not long after that my sister moved to the far away northern United States, and my dad was also called home to heaven. Suddenly I was left feeling very alone, an orphan AND a widow. I struggled for years with depression and anxiety, and as a result health issues plagued me. I couldn't sleep well, and over time my ability to think and focus weakened. I had severe bouts of loneliness as the many-times-over promised new husband never appeared on my doorstep.  All along I wondered why after years I was still hurting so, whether God would ever heal my aching heart, and who would take care of me when I couldn't.

But let the godly rejoice. Let them be glad in God's presence. Let them be filled with joy.  Sing praises to God and to his name! Sing loud praises to him who rides the clouds. His name is the LORD-- rejoice in his presence!  Father to the fatherless, defender of widows-- this is God, whose dwelling is holy. God places the lonely in families; he sets the prisoners free and gives them joy. But for rebels, there is only famine and distress.  Psalm 68:3-6

The truth is, God prepared my life for these dark years even before I entered them.  He had peppered it with older women who mentored me and loved me along the way, and they quickly stepped in at different points to offer their unique gifts of prayer, hospitality, comfort, counsel, and many others.  God brought a special young woman into my life--a young mother who piqued my curiosity even before we were friends--who consistently spoke truth into my life and loved me even when I was more than a little unlovable. He gave me a mother-in-law and father-in-law who would so grow in their love for Him that they would let their own son go the way he wanted and refuse to desert me just because he didn't want me any longer. He almost literally surrounded me with families who repeatedly have said to me that they love me, they believe in me and in the choices I've been making (even when some have been foolish!), and that they will respond to God's leading when He chooses to provide for me through them.  He's given me prayer warriors, counselors, moms with shoulders for crying on, and brothers in Christ who correct my female notions of how to raise boys. Many of these individuals and families have not stuck with me for a few months, or even a couple years, they have been with me all along, and continue to declare their love for me over and over again. They stick by me because we are joint heirs in a covenant sealed with Christ's blood, and I have found it is a covenant thicker than water, and even more than the usual blood.

It is still not unusual for me to still struggle with bouts of self-pity as I succumb to the loneliness and hugeness of being a single mom, but it is rare for me to get lost in it for long.  God is still busy on my behalf, raising up women and couples and families who love me and my boys like we are their own family, because they understand that we are . . . for eternity.  So if I could have shared what I am thankful for this year, it would have been that even though my story didn't end with the magical marriage reconciliation, or a new husband who treasures me, it still ended with the miracle of family--the kind God sets the lonely in, and the kind that bears with you in love. It is the kind of family that makes me long for heaven, when I will enjoy family at its fullest and best!

The Sincerest Form of Flattery—and Worship!

When I moved into the stage of parenting toddlers, I was quickly convicted of some weak areas in my life.  Words I said, habits I had, even what I liked to eat . . . all were imitated by my children.  It was one thing to hear a slightly off-color word out of the mouth of an adult, or maybe even a teen, but to hear it from a two-year-old made my skin crawl. Something inside me innately knew it was wrong, but my age and exposure to the world had dulled my sense of it being wrong even for me. I think I expected that as my children grew, they would become more independent thinkers, less likely to imitate what they see and hear, but that is actually not true at all.

Right now, my teenagers are downstairs playing "Ninja" on each other. They are quoting funny "Mythbuster" lines because that is what we just watched.  I have laughed at them as they watch shows studying it for cool or funny lines and repeating them ad nauseum for days afterward. It was funny when one of my kids informed me that his goal in life was to be able to converse completely in movie quotes (and I think he's there!).  Recently we listened to some Bill Cosby comedy, and in just a hearing or two, they completely memorized the routines. I've come to realize that everyone--young children, teens, and even adults--imitate what surrounds them.  How often do we find ourselves using coloquial expressions: "Right on!"  "Like . . . totally!"  "Dude!" and lately "Seriously?" or "Totally awesome!" (said with a high pitched squeal on the "awesome")

We are creatures made to imitate what we admire.

We return again and again to what we admire, cutting grooves into our minds that match the messages we see and hear.  Not only are we creating thought and belief patterns in our own minds, but also in the minds of those we have in tow with us—especially our kids—who are watching and learning too.  As I enter further into the task of parenting teenagers, I'm very concerned about ways that I've failed to understand and apply that principle earlier in the lives of my children.  For whatever reasons (or excuses), I have allowed influences into their lives unintentionally, without thinking through what they would admire, love, and imitate. I've had to sacrifice some of my goals and plans for them, because I myself derailed those goals by not being intentional about using exposure and influence to shape their passions and their character.  I wish that I could go back in time and do things differently, but I'm comforted by the truth that in God's plan there is no plan B, and everything that I've done, intentionally or unintentionally, is a part of His plan A.

I’m currently working through Louie Giglio’s study Wired: for a Life of Worship with my Jr. High girls, and I’m so convicted of the way that imitation is actually a sign of worship. As I study, I’m hoping to write more on what I learn about worship and about the things that influence us.

10-10 in 2010

If you've followed my blog at all, it has become apparent to you that I am . . . er . . . goal-challenged. Seems like when I set a goal it ends up forgotten. It's probably on my floor somewhere with many other things being walked upon. However, I am convinced that it is not (for me) the achieving of a goal that is important, it is setting them and moving in their general direction for at least a period of time. So I'm leaping again this year. And, as I did last year, I'm dropping the bar a bit, hoping that by not setting it too high I might actually achieve what I set out to do! So here's my 2010 Goals:

10 Books I'd like to read:

• When Life and Beliefs Collide
• Age of Opportunity
• A House for My Name
• Ministry of Motherhood
• Idols of the Heart: Learning to Long for God Alone
• The Reason for God
• UnChristian
• Esperanza Rising
• An Unfinished Life
• another fiction yet undecided

10 Goals for My Year:

• Get rid of the junk in my garage
• Make curtains for my bedroom windows and hall
• Learn to cook (really cook)
• Organize my schoolroom
• Research and tentatively plan getting my Master's Degree
• Get away for my birthday with some of my girlfriends
• Study the book of Romans (or at least part of it)
• Double my income (find a work-from-home job?)
• Lose 25 pounds
• Renew my relationship with my most Beloved

Easy goals right? Should be a piece of cake. Stay tuned. My life reads like a bad comedy (filled with a lot of God's grace!)

May Old Aquaintance NEVER Be Forgot!!!

The last two weeks have brought some interesting twists into my life . . . through Facebook, of all things! Over the last year, I have loved reconnecting with old friends from high school. It has been fun to see what they are like as adults--in ways you can't really discover at a high school reunion. I have been struck by how they have changed, and how they are still the same. I've laughed at grown-up outlooks on life that we never thought we'd have when we were carefree teenagers. And I've realized that many of the quarrels and conflicts and things that divided us were really not worth all the angst they brought on us.

In the last couple of weeks I've begun brainstorming and searching for old friends from the churches I've attended over the many years. It has been very rewarding to find one of the first students I ever had in Sunday School--she was first grade the last time I saw her. Now she's 26, and a very beautiful young woman! When I was 22, she was my 6-year-old best friend (and I took a lot of teasing from my husband for that!). I've found friends, former pastors, kids I knew . . . and it has brought back a flood of wonderful memories. Best of all, it has given me some insight into what life is like when lived in community with believers. Until I started corresponding with some of these people, I didn't even realize how very much my heart had missed them, or how much I still love them because of the relationships we formed long ago! One of my status comments was about how big a party heaven will be because of all the reunions going on there! I truly cannot wait!!!

I've also rediscovered how totally worthwhile pouring your life into others is! I have run into people online that I know shaped who I am and what I believe, and I'm SO grateful for the things they taught me, for the way they loved me, and for the grace they showed this headstrong young woman! I've glimpsed how my willingness to teach Sunday School, work with teens, play with babies, and hang out with families has shaped a little of who these people have become. Most of all, because of our mutual love of the Savior, I've seen that twenty years of joys, pain, triumphs, disappointments, mundane routine, and pushing through the next thing have not marred the sense of kinship I feel toward these brothers and sisters in Christ. Living in the family of God is a wonderful place to be, and I'm in awe of the protection and provision God has afforded me in His body.

Meditation #4: Christmas Chiaroscuro

"The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death, a lgiht has dawned." Isaiah 9:2

I remember many years ago puzzling over why Christmas could be so hard for some people. Why couldn't people just "get into" the season? Why couldn't they focus on the real meaning of it, and forget whatever was hard? After several traumas, and some choices of my own (good choices, but not without consequences), Christmas took on a whole new feel for me several years ago. I set myself up for it. I had spoiled my kids and even spent my lifetime of Christmases caught up in the whirlwind of traditions. Suddenly, I was barely able to get out of bed each morning. My chioces about what were important for me and for my boys had left me living paycheck to paycheck, hardly able to make ends meet. Christmas made it worse, as I faced "celebrating" without the trappings I had come to love. I faced Christmas with no money, no energy, and no enthusiasm. Still I turned to the things I had always done: decorating, baking, singing songs, and even reading the Christmas story as a way to escape the sense that I was messing it all up. I have really struggled with Christmas for years now, having little sense of wonder and little anticipation of something wonderful in the holiday.

I woke this morning thinking about a terrible, stupid book I read by Lemony Snicket called "The Lump of Coal," about a piece of coal that is hoping for a Christmas miracle. Even an author as dark and vile as the author of A Series of Unfortunate Events can see that Christmas is a time for miracles. Why couldn't I? Most days I walk in a world of darkness. Oh, many of the people around me think they are enlightened, but I see through the facade. I have tasted some of the world's hopelessness in the loss of those dear to me, in the struggle to do what I think is important work, in my own struggle against the parts of me that terrify and shame me. Yet over the years, as I have tasted the devastating consequences of sin, I have also become more aware of something there that I know is real and dependable: hope. Not hope in me, because I let myself down all the time. Not hope in others, although I have come to love and appreciate the relationships I have and the kindness that people can show. I know deeply though, that my hope comes from belonging to the Most High God . . . of knowing I am His daughter and his beloved, and that even when I mess up big-time, He will use it all for my good and His glory. My hope comes alone from Christ, and everything else I experience that is good in the world is because of His hand at work upon it. In the darkest morments of my life I have sensed His presence and tasted His peace, knowing that I didn't have to understand what was going on or why I was hurting to know He was in control and loved me and was going to use it all. I know this, even if my feelings have been slower to respond to it.

A few people at the time of Christ's birth found this hope too. In the midst of a very dark time for Israel--with the rule of the violent, oppressive Romans--there were people looking for hope. Of course, they were looking for the hope that a ruler who would throw off the shackles of Roman oppression would bring. Instead, what a few found was a baby, some angels, and a star. In the midst of the dark of night, during a time of darkness in Jewish national history, in a dark and backwards place like the little village of Bethlehem, a sudden great light shone out. It was accompanied not only by a glorious angel, but by a heavenly host of them . . . enough to inspire fear in shepherds who regularly fought lions and thieves. It was proclaimed not only by a star, but by one bright enough in the dark night to impress some very well-educated, important men from faraway eastern countries. The only thing in that whole story that doesn't seem to shine is the baby, and yet in eternal eyes, he was the brightest of all, for He was God Himself. He would continue to shine through His short life: as he perfectly and respectfully obeyed His parents in everything and showed unusual compasssion for his age on the children around him, as He worked dilligently to help care for His family all the while studying scriptures and worshipping with passion, as He left His beloved family (surprising everyone) to travel and preach and care for the outcast and downtrodden, and as He exposed the hypocrisy and inconsistencies of the religious establishement of the day, urging, calling, chastising them back to true worship of the Living God. The reactions to Jesus were mixed, because he was light--the Light of the World (John 3:19-21)--and while some were drawn to it, many ran from Him or tried to extinguish Him like cockroaches when the switch is flipped.

As I awoke this morning and pondered all of this, I realized that my struggle to find purpose and meaning in Christmas has the same cause as the struggle of every person who has heard, saw, or met Jesus from the time He came here to earth until now. If I get caught up in all of the tradition, in pleasing my children, even in dutifully reading the Christmas story, even my best efforts to celebrate are like filthy rags (Isaiah 64:6). What God wants from me . . . what I was created for . . . was to live in relationship to Him, and then as an extension of that relationship to reflect His light to a dark world. If I want to celebrate Jesus' birthday, I need to do it by reflecting and celebrating Jesus Himself. It's not about conjuring up enough emotion or feigning devoutness to celebrate the season, Christmas is still about the same thing that it started as: renewing my relationship to God. I am grateful that Chrismas comes at the end of the year, because every year, regardless of my feelings I begin a new year reflecting on my Savior, on what He has given me, and on how and where I have strayed away, again, from Him. I have nothing that He really needs, but He wants me. All Jesus wants for His birthday is for me to give back to Him my heart, surrendering to the light and banishing a little more of the darknes