A New Year

Why is December 31 the last day of the year?

I figured that there was some sort of celestial occurrence which made the ancients deem it right and proper to divide the old year of today from the new year of tomorrow. Well, according to my brief research on Wikipedia, there isn't. We celebrate a new year on January 1 because that is when the Gregorian calendar chose to have us celebrate it.

Which leads into my next question: why is this a big deal?

I understand that it's an opportunity for new beginnings, a chance to leave last year's troubles and foibles behind, blah blah blah. But we all know that our resolutions aren't likely to last past March, and that the new year may have just as many troubles as the last one (and maybe more).

It is good for one thing though. No matter how randomly it may have been plopped into our calendar, the turning of the year inspires a reflective spirit, one that often gets trampled in the usual hustle of life.

For example, the calendar says that another year of my life has passed; have I grown spiritually as well as chronologically? Am I another year more mature, or have I squandered every opportunity for growth this past year? Did I do anything this year that will matter in the next year or the one after that or the one after that? Am I looking more like Christ than I did at this time last year? And more importantly, what am I currently doing that will create greater maturity and growth in me by this time next year?

May the coming year hold great things for you, pleasures as well as opportunities for growth. May you fully enjoy the sweet times and rise to meet the challenging ones. May you find yourself another year wiser as well as another year older.

Not a Good Christian Girl Anymore

When I first considered starting a blog (in the spring of 2012), that's what I thought I would name it. Not as a jab at my Christian heritage or a rebellion against the Christian faith but as a chronicle of my struggle to leave behind acting like a Christian and start being like Christ.

"Many of us don't want to be led by the Holy Spirit. . . . Many of us don't want to be led by anyone other than ourselves." "If you say you want the Holy Spirit, you must first honestly ask yourself if you want to do His will" (from Forgotten God, by Francis Chan, pp. 50, 51).

I ask God for His wisdom. I beg for it. I need it now and in the life to which He is calling me.

I ask Him to move in me, that His Holy Spirit would fill me and take hold of me.

Then I turn around and do it all myself.

After all, I know what the church expects. I know what modern, American Christianity expects. If I let Him do it, He might do it wrong! It might look weird when He gets finished with it, and that would be embarrassing.

I slap God's hands away from my life and my affairs, say, "I'll handle this," and bustle off with a nod of my head.

Then it falls apart and I run back, dump it in His lap, and ask Him through my groans and tears to make it all work.

But, oh, when will I learn? If I would leave it with Him from the first, it wouldn't be broken . . . and if it looked broken in His hands (and I left it there still), I could trust Him to make it all right.

Oh! the peace of mind I sell for my "right" to have things my way!

But why do I want the Holy Spirit? Am I asking like Simon the Magician, trying to buy Him for myself (p. 84)?

Is this an effort to be "Christian cool," one of those people to whom others look up? Is it some sort of Christian club membership to me? I've always wanted to be part of that elusive inner circle, whatever the context. Is that all this desire has been?

I know that at least part of the desire comes with my life calling. I'm totally unequipped. I feel like I'm play-acting and it's only a matter of time before I'm discovered, like the Holy Spirit is my only chance at "legitimacy."

But, if God has called, isn't that legitimate enough?
When do I stop seeking my nod of approval from the world - even the "Christian" world?
When will God be enough?

Maybe when I'm done following rules and am ready to pursue a whole different way of life.
Maybe when I'm done looking good and am ready to be made good.
Maybe when I'm done focusing on myself and am ready to follow Him.

Maybe when I'm done being a good Christian girl.

Self-Talk

This morning, I was leaning over, looking through my bottom cupboards for a tupperware, when the cereal box on the counter above me tipped over and rained its contents upon my head. I've sat in a waterfall, and now I've been under a cereal-fall, I guess.

But, as Honey Nut Cheerios poured forth upon my head, I realized in a single moment that I had a decision before me:
I could either be angry at the inanimate box for maliciously making a mess for me first thing in the morning,
OR
I could laugh at myself, standing there in my bathrobe with little cereal rounds plinking on the kitchen linoleum.

It reminded me of a time last week when my husband and I were in the midst of a misunderstanding and the options seemed laid before me in a similar manner - a moment when the question crystallized:
Am I going to make myself vulnerable and tell him what I'm thinking and feeling in a bid for reconciliation,
OR
Am I going to play the dramatic, wounded heroine who bears her injuries silently (albeit sullenly)?

It's hard, in a world so me-centered, to consciously push myself to the side. Yet, invariably, it's better, at least in the end.

When the idea for this blog post started to percolate in my mind, I thought it was going to be culture-directed . . . addressing the ills of the self-esteem movement, going after the poor psychology of pop-culture psychology.

But that's not the real issue.

The real issue is that I am desperately wicked.

Not flawed.

Flawed sounds nicer, but it points the finger in the wrong direction.

Think about it: if you buy a product that is flawed, whom do you blame? The manufacturer, of course. You're not going to blame the product for being made in error; you're going to take it back to the store or write the company and ask for a refund (or just complain and not do anything about it, but that's a topic for another time).

If I am flawed, then God gets the blame for making me this way. But I know that everything He makes is good, so His workmanship can't be the problem.

There's another word, not as nice as "flawed," that sheds some light on the issue.

"Sin."

Sin isn't a popular word today. In fact, I may have just gotten branded as part of the radical right for using it. But give me a second; acknowledging sin may be the kindest thing we can do for ourselves and each other.

Consider the current concept of self. We live in a day when teachers are not allowed to reprimand students or use red ink because of the harmful psychological effects it might pose. Spanking is going out of vogue as the idea of shaping and molding children gets pushed to the out-of-date column. We are told to accept people for who they are, to allow the free expression of individuality, and to affirm each person's unique bent rather than to suggest that they might be wrong or in need of change. God made us like this, we are told; appreciate it!

But, what if we are not flawed, and God didn't make us like this? What if we are sinful?

If we are sinful, we can be forgiven.
If we are sinful, we can learn to live differently.
If we are sinful, we can learn how to draw near to a holy God.
If we are sinful, we are not without hope.

I am sinful. I sin. But because I know I sin, I can ask forgiveness.

(Who asks forgiveness for sin they haven't committed?)

The most gracious (in the truest sense of the word, that is, filled with grace), hope-filled, loving thing we can do for ourselves and others is to admit that we sin, that we are in the wrong, but that God has made provision for us through Christ.
And because of all this,
we
can
change.

That's what I'm thankful for this Thanksgiving.

In-Laws

Gasp.

The phrase that gets joked about as soon as the topic of marriage and family arises.
The words that immediately bring to mind mother-in-law stories.
Seemingly the bane of many and the delight of few.

Why?

Building a new marriage challenges every fresh-faced couple . . . so why do we complicate it with built-in, ready-made expectations of enmity with our spouse's family of origin?

I have been blessed with wonderful in-laws who have welcomed me and allowed my husband and me to begin life as our own family. Yet, it can still be interesting establishing new relationships - ones that will be with me the rest of my life - in a manner I have never before experienced.

I chose my husband, and in that respect I chose my in-laws. I regret neither. Actually, I quite enjoy both, and in this I find great joy! But what a strange tension to know that these are people I shall do life with from now on - and likewise, I suppose, for my husband with my original family.

Normally, I find a friendship with those with a great deal in common with me. My in-laws and I share a certain young man in common and, beyond that, we might or might not share anything else in common.

So what?

In my mind, I draw this out with the marriage/church analogy: marriage is to reflect the relationship of Christ to His Church, and to the extent that a marriage is healthy and loving, it is successful.

So, what about the in-laws?

Adam and Eve didn't have to work things out between their families in the first marriage ever, but God knew that marriage would bring in-laws into existence. (And, I believe, that just because they weren't part of the original creation, they are not necessarily lesser, bad, or lacking in things to teach us.)

We land ourselves with a group of almost-strangers with whom we will grow and experience life at the moment we say "I do." Should this picture life within the body of Christ?

Please, understand me: my biblical research is limited here. In fact, I haven't ever heard this connection made or read about it from any well-respected theologian.

BUT.

If Christ and the church :: the husband and wife, then the couple and their in-laws :: brothers and sisters in Christ?

Am I way off track here?

We grow and learn to love those in the Church for no other reason than that we have covenanted with the same God and made Him Lord of our lives. Here we are, all denominational persuasions, all opinionated on the proper color of church carpeting, all striving to embody a new life under new rules empowered by new grace every day.

Yes, we clash sometimes. After all, not everyone's mother made potato salad the same way. But in the essentials, the big stuff, the things that we can look at and say, "This is fundamental and necessary to Christianity as we know it," I would think that, done well, the Church can cross boundaries that no one else would find a reason to cross.

So, I covenanted with a man for the rest of our lives, and we each got another family as a bonus. A family that we probably wouldn't have known otherwise. A family on the other side of our typical boundaries that we build a bridge to on the basis of a marriage across them.

Because of my in-laws, I have already learned to add pasta to creamy pea salad, discovered the wonders of the bean pot, experienced deer hunting, and reaped the joy of two nephews. They're mostly surface issues, but they're a start of something much bigger, something I am only getting ephemeral hints of at the moment.

Obviously, this is a topic, an idea, that is still growing, evolving, stretching, twisting, and marinating inside me. That means that this post is probably rougher, less polished, than I would normally desire. That also means that I will probably be posting about it again . . .

One Month

We just passed the one month mark in our marriage. How strange to think that we will only count up - never down - again in our relationship. But it is a good sort of strange!

A few firsts to have come about in our first month:

• my first chance to completely organize a home (the kitchen was especially fun . . . the rest is still in progress). A bit overwhelming at times, but worth it in the end.
• my first prolonged experience at menu planning. My cooking has generally met with success, but it has also included . . .
• my first major misjudgment on cooking time. The chicken didn't thaw as quickly as I thought it would, which meant it didn't cook as quickly as I thought it would, which meant that our main course consisted of squash and bread and apple crisp, with baked chicken for dessert.
• my first school loan payments. Yippee.
• our first budget (which didn't crash and burn as badly as we thought it would, yet I learned how quickly unexpected expenses like to raise their ugly heads!).
• our first time inviting people to our home!

Thankfully, this list doesn't include our first fight; we took care of that a while ago! :) Seriously though, there is a sort of relief to not have that looming overhead.

Something God has been impressing upon me lately is the blessing of my own insufficiency. During college, I could keep my chin above the water, and people generally believed that I was doing so with ease. I sometimes floundered and panicked, but overall I found the ability to pull myself up by my proverbial bootstraps and stay on the successful side of the grading process. I could make myself look good and get the credit for it, too. But this homemaker thing is different.

A couple weeks ago, I felt overwhelmed by all the new responsibilities. I would get up in the mornings and go at it and not feel like I had really gotten anywhere by the time I laid down at night. In homemaking, there is no deadline when you don't have to think about that project anymore. There is no final test when you can leave that topic behind forever. There is no last day in the semester and the promise of a final grade that pulls you through like a light at the end of the tunnel. Instead, dishes are constantly needing washing, the floor seems to grow dirt by itself, dirty laundry regenerates, and don't you know that nothing cleans itself! The clean socks have been in that basket in my living room for days and they still haven't figured out how to find their match!

Yet, this time of finding myself fundamentally lacking is also a blessing.

If I have everything in hand, where is room for God to work?
If I am successful at all I do, what has God done for me?
If I am wrapped up in my work and busy acing this wife/homemaker thing, how has God moved in my life?

When I can't do it and can't keep up and can't find the strength, I get to see God.

He works when I can't anymore.
He acts on my behalf when am unable to do it myself.
He moves and displays His strength when my strength is gone.

You know, I cannot figure out why I run myself ragged so often trying to prove myself. It is more fun to get to see God in all His grace and power, after all.

Is my stubbornness/determination coming between me and my experience of God's majesty?

Does God care about housework?
I think so.

And I am trying to learn to fall to my knees more quickly rather than flailing to keep my feet under me. After all, which is more important to me: the power of Christ or my stupid pride?

Is the key to success in the Christian life admitting to being an utter failure? (Hmm, that echoes the beatitudes.)

I'll gladly wave my white flag if it means that He gets the control and the glory in my life.

Although, I'm fresh out of white flags. Maybe one of these socks will do.

A Day in the Life of a New Wife

As a couple approaches matrimony, people delight in telling them how humbling marriage is. I heard it often enough that I could nod sagely every time I heard it, with a conspiratorial smile because I was "in the know" about how my selfishness and sinfulness was about to be revealed in a whole new way after I said "I do."

But marriage is humbling in other ways. No one bothered to mention them.

Take last Thursday for instance.

I needed inspiration for supper preparation and so had asked my darling hubby what would tickle his palate. His response was "Meatloaf!"  

Excellent, I mused. I can use Mom's recipe - I know that one is tasty - and it will feel homey for me.

"What would you like on the side?" his excellent wife pressed further.

"Something cold," he replied with a smile.

Something cold? I thought. What is a "cold" side? I am used to hot potato dishes, baked beans, steamed vegetables, etc., etc., adorning the sides of our dinner plates. I am prepared for the struggle to time them all exactly so they are finished at the same time and able to be served up hot together. WHY would someone want a nice hot dish served cold???

So, I asked him what he meant.

"How about creamy pea salad?"

First of all, I don't eat pea salad.

Second of all, my mother doesn't make pea salad.

Third of all, I don't know how to make pea salad.

So I smile and send him off to work and set about finding a recipe from the all-wise Bing for creamy pea salad.

I found a recipe - one with ingredients that I mostly already had and that sounded agreeable - and set out to make it.

First, I hopped in his truck to do a little grocery shopping in order to fill in the gaps in my pantry. I couldn't find the lever to make the seat slide forward, so I just sat forward in the seat, leaned against the seat belt, pointed my toe, and managed to work the gas and break pedals somewhat comfortably . . . at least without being a menace to traffic.

I rolled into the little local grocery and set about making my purchases for my home-cooked meal for my hubby. As I strolled leisurely down the aisles, I saw the bread rack.

I make my own bread, was the snobbish thought which likes to echo through my head.

You are almost out of bread, was the impish thought in return.

Look, there's even some bakery bread. That can't be as bad as the factory stuff. You don't have the time or fresh flour for your own right now, and making bread with regular flour is a sad concession in itself.

Yes, I could rationalize it, so I sheepishly tucked some store-bought, bakery-made bread into my cart and tried to look nonchalant.

I got back home and put away my groceries feeling very much like a real homemaker. The bread went into the freezer and the rest of the groceries found homes in my cupboards.

Next task: creamy pea salad.

Required: a hard-boiled egg.

Hard-boiled egg? A hard-boiled egg? I don't eat hard-boiled eggs. I don't make hard-boiled eggs. How am I supposed to hard-boil an egg?

Back to Bing I went, feeling less and less competent as a cook than I had in years.

Eureka! Bing pulled through, and I made a few extra eggs to keep in the fridge, just in case the hubby likes to eat them. Good, back on track to being competent in the kitchen.

The salad slid together, and I even had to admit it was good. The meatloaf roasted, and it tasted like home.

I admitted to the new husband that his new wife had bought bread, which he happily forgave, and I glowingly enjoyed his praises over my culinary efforts.

So, it turned out well (better than well, actually!); but the next time you start waxing eloquent about marriage's humbling qualities, stop and make sure the couple you're talking to knows that it isn't just humbling as it pertains to sin and redemption.

Oh, no.

Once you start realizing that there are real, reasonable people out there that eat the food you always snub in the potluck line, you just might be serving up a cold side of humble pie.

New Wife, New Life

Maybe I should have a warning label: "Caution. New Wife."

My brain is going crazy with everything it needs to do: finish clean-up, finish moving in, finish laundry from the wedding trip, go through pictures, write thank-you's, stay up to date on outside life as it moves past, decide which church commitments to enter and which to wait til later . . . dishes, laundry, cleaning, friends, cooking, groceries . . .

Oh, and care for the husband. That one I like. A lot.

The funniest things make me feel like a "real" wife. Yesterday, it was filling the ice cube tray. Stupid, I know. But for some reason, that simple act said, "You are no longer defined as daughter, relative, sister, friend. Your new identity - and your main one - is wife."

And I've only had one laundry snafu so far!

The really strange part is the feeling of vulnerability. My heart is walking around outside my body in the form of a 6'5", twenty-five-year-old man.

When people slight him, it hurts.
Physically.
I can feel it.

When he is attacked, I would rather they come after me, because it hurts less.

This is the infant stage of marriage. I am that wide-eyed baby, awash in wonder at the simplest aspects of married life. Every sensation - every sight, sound, and color of marriage - compounds its intensity for my unaccustomed mind.

I know some of this (or a lot of it) will fade into a hum-drum background as this new reality becomes my new normal. But I don't want all of it to become flat and tedious. I want to retain the wonder of some of it.

It makes me think of Tae Kwon Do. Our instructor always warned us, "Getting your black belt is not the finish line; that is when the real work begins."

I guess I've begun the real work of my life, perhaps the realest work in life.

Right now, it's still fun and interesting. I know that will change.

But right now, watch out world. There's a new wife down the road!

Already/Not Yet

As my wedding day approaches, I've been trying hard not to be the obnoxious bride. You know the type. All they can talk about is their wedding. The only person who holds any interest is their fiance. They are constantly posting countdown pix on Facebook.

Ok, so maybe I am doing that last one.

Anyway, it's always been a bit of a mystery as to what drives those "almost-brides". As I find myself right in the midst of that state, I'm confused as to how to explain it.

After all, little girls dream of meeting their Prince Charming, of their wedding day, and of their family to follow. But nobody thinks about that stage when you've found Prince Charming, the wedding is in the works, but you're not there yet.

Which brings to mind that phrase from my Biblical Theology class, "already/not yet"; and things seemed to fall into place in my mind.

Think of marriage within its Biblical context: Christ and the church. Marriage - Christian or not - reflects the union of mankind to God within a reconciled relationship. Our marriage ceremony and celebration is to be a foretaste of the marriage supper of the Lamb, the ultimate celebration as God's people finally enjoy unfettered, unmasked life before the presence of the LORD.

So, if that's the case for the wedding ceremony and for the oneness of the following relationship, maybe (my thought process goes) there is something similarly significant hiding within the folds of this great analogy and my current relational status that could assist in my elucidation.

Let's see.

Wedding = the final coming of Christ.

Engagement = ?

Engagement is the time I get to plan for the wedding, to prepare myself and my possessions for the transition to his. I steam my dress, ready the flowers, set up the chapel . . . why? So things are in preparation for him and that day. My belongings are scattered haphazardly between his home and my parents' as I get ready for a change in location, some of them preceding me, some to accompany me later.

Isn't this a reflection (or is it a dim glimpse of future things?) of this time in the Church's history?

We're not completely "pre-bridegroom" in that we have met Him. We know who He is. We have accepted His offer gratefully and are engaged to enjoy Him forever. That's why we call ourselves Christians.

So, while we have the understanding that He has spoken for us, we are still working to prepare ourselves and the world around us for the coming of that joyful day. We do good things, things creating beauty and reconciliation, not because they bring about the day of our spiritual marriage supper but because they ready us for it. We seek to cloth ourselves in holy garments of pleasing works in order that He might delight in us that much more. We actively move our treasures to heaven in preparation for the day of His coming. That tension of being in God's plan and in God's world and yet needing to wait for that last reckoning which will cement our position forever rings so familiarly in the heart of this almost-bride.

Almost. Not yet.

Already/not yet.

I love it when God just makes everything make sense.

Lions and Lessons

So I saw in my dream that he [Christian] made haste and went forward, that if possible he might get lodging there. Now, before he had gone far, he entered into a very narrow passage, which was about a furlong off the porter's lodge; and looking very narrowly before him as he went, he espied two lions in the way. Now, thought he, I see the dangers that Mistrust and Timorous were driven back by. (The lions were chained, but he saw not the chains.) Then he was afraid, and thought also himself to go back after them, for he thought nothing but death was before him. But the porter at the lodge, whose name is Watchful, perceiving that Christian made a halt as if he would go back, cried unto him, saying, "Is thy strength so small? Fear not the lions, for they are chained, and are placed there for trial of faith where it is, and for discovery of those that had none. Keep in the midst of the path, no hurt shall come unto thee."

Then I saw that he went on, trembling for fear of the lions, but taking good heed to the directions of the porter; he heard them roar, but they did him no harm.

- From The Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan

 I seem to live my life in two modes: lackadaisically or in panic.

When times are good, I enjoy, kick back, and spiritually float along. These are the times when it is easiest to make it look like I have it all together. I am calm and confident, and I have answers!

Then real life hits, the rug gets tugged, everything hits the fan. I find myself grasping for something - anything - that will firmly withstand the buffeting. Usually this involves tears and groaning prayers on my part, begging for a happy resolution and a time of respite once again.

Yet, those moments are the catalyst for growth.

My only catalyst for growth.

Think about it: I ask God to help me grow, then He sends something tough to give me the opportunity to do just that. What do I do? I ask Him to take it away.

In one sense, that's good. At least I'm turning to Him and not away from Him. But I can't rationalize it that easily. Here's why: my prayers tend to run something like this, "Dear God, please help! I don't know if even You can fix this, but please please please try!" (Of course, they sound better out loud, but that's what they boil down to.)

And what happens?

He carries me through, and I see that the lions were chained the whole time. I never was in any real danger. That circumstance, that situation, that relationship that looked out of control was always wholly under His control.

And I see Him turn to me, take my hand, and say, ever so gently, "O you of little faith, why did you doubt?"

Someday, I hope to trust Him first and skip the panic.

"Thank You"

Last year, Ann Voskamp's book swept through Christian women's circles. Her style of writing, together with calling her readers back to an appreciation for all God's good gifts, touched hearts.

Yesterday, I read in my devotions about the discipline of thanksgiving - giving thanks to God even in hard times - and the life-attitude thankfulness (or its lack) can create.

I think this all stands out so much to me right now because, this summer, I saw very plainly what ingratitude looks like.

Ingratitude can disguise itself as perfectionism or as high standards. At its most veiled, it parades as wanting the best for the group. But it misses the individual. It crushes and destroys in the name of cohesion and doing the best for the whole.

It is never satisfied with what is; it only sees what still needs to be.

It tramples brothers and sisters in its quest for more.

Even more, when we stop being thankful, we begin to reason away the conviction of sin. My devotions pointed out that Eve, back in Eden, was tempted when she was no longer thankful for what God had provided (an entire garden of good food and beauty, for Pete's sake!) and only saw the one thing that was forbidden. If thankfulness had filled her, her attitude would have been one that focused on all of God's gifts. Instead, she saw the desirability of what was not hers, coveted it, took it. She did not worry about the godly life because she no longer saw the kind providence of God.

How vital thankfulness must be to a Christian's walk!

The fact of the matter is, we always have something for which we can be thankful. Always.
1 John 1:7 "But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin." ESV

Focus on that.
You are cleansed of all sin!
You, a sinner?
Absolutely.
But cleansed.

Feel the depth of the desperation of your sin! Then realize what Christ - His very blood - did for you.

What do you feel? I'm guessing gratitude.

This sets the tone for life! It will affect the direction of your thoughts and expectations. It will change your interaction with others. Defenses will drop as other people start to realize that you are aware of everything they offer, that you are grateful for their contribution, hard work, even their presence. And isn't that what the life of Christ in us is supposed to do? To revolutionize the way we do everything, including our interactions with others?

This is not just a soul issue, folks. This is something that touches your life trajectory.

When we grasp for what is not ours, we see only what we have been denied, only the depth of our deprivation.

BUT.

When we find something - one thing - for which we can sincerely thank God, more follow. It really is amazing how quickly they start to come to mind. Because, you see, they're there. You just need the eyes to see them. The eyes of a thankful person.

Be thankful even when - especially when - it costs you something, when it is difficult. What good is a gift that is worthless?

Make your thankfulness valuable by practicing it in the hard times. Start by thanking God for His valuable gift of salvation, and then let thankfulness be part of a daily dialogue between you and your Creator.

But don't let it stop there. Let it pour over into the rest of your life - your interactions with your spouse and boss and friends, your attitude toward possessions and schedules and stressors, your reaction to plans that are spoiled or hurts that others cause.

"And be thankful."

Don't just take my word for it.

A Place Called Home

I wonder why I don't feel more adrift.

The acreage that has been my home since my sixth month of life is drifting away as Daddy nears retirements. The thought of losing that place used to strike a note of feral fear within me. Now, I see God gently shaking its soil from my roots.

I am in my last thirty days of living with Grandma, this place of Grandma's care and cooking which carved a home amongst the stress and pleasure of learning.

I am headed to a place that is not guaranteed to me and my husband-to-be; it could be yanked away upon the whims of others.

Yet, among the uncertainties, there is peace. The peace originating in a God who knows, who sees, who understands. His comfort to me is that He already sees what lies ahead, and He is handling it even now.

The place He has for me in this moment is my home: this is where He loves me and where He has asked me to serve.

Forgive a rant, but that's one reason I don't like the song, "All I know is I am not home yet/ This is not where I belong . . ." I understand the general sentiment behind the words; I've felt it. The problem is that it is bad theology. The Bible promises a time and place for all things in out lives (Ecc. 3:1). Just because things are rough doesn't mean we get to ignore them. We Christians have to engage. Jesus spent time warning His disciples of things to come on earth, but He never told them to pull away or to "hang in there" until better things arrived. He told them so they could have peace in Him right in the middle of all the craziness (John 16:33)! Paul hit it right on the head: we don't have to be afraid of anything this earth can dish out - even death - because it all belongs to Christ (Philippians 1:21)! He gets it all in the end! We aren't chasing pie in the sky. We have it. We have Him. His name is Jesus, and His presence is my home.

Right here.

Right now.

And wherever tomorrow finds me.

Sacrifice

I've often wondered if I would be called to give my life for Jesus.

You know, not just live for Him but die for Him. In other words, martyrdom.

I don't want to be dramatic. But really. I don't know if I would have the courage. The will to live is strong. Could my love for God outweigh the flame inside that will do nearly anything for self-preservation?

I've prayed that I would never have to find out. I've prayed for the courage should that day come.

Am I morbid? I don't think so. My willingness to think about something that most people my age won't doesn't say whether it's worthy of my thoughts or not. I feel this is something that serious believers have to at least consider.

In philosophy class, my prof challenged the idea that dying for someone/thing is a greater sacrifice than living for them. We call death "the ultimate sacrifice," but is it? Isn't it more difficult to embody the living sacrifice that Romans calls us to?

So here I am looking four weeks of working at Bible camp in the proverbial eye. No, I don't expect to die in the next month. But I am planning on being hours behind in sleep, cleaning things I'd rather not, coping with strong-willed and high-strung campers, negotiating between people who have been around each other too long. . . . Not to say that camp doesn't have its wonderful moments. They are frequent each week and keep us all coming back every year. Yet, it would be naive to imagine that those moments of eternal victory come cheaply.

I once heard that "sacrifice" actually means to give something up with the expectation of gaining something in return. I feel like the Christian martyrs get that. They give up their lives - a daunting task to be sure - but do so with the hope of glory outweighing every threatening pain and heartache. I'm hoping that, as an Americanized Christian, I haven't put so much of a stake in the pleasures present here and now before me that I miss the possibility of invisible victories that will shake down through the ages and generations yet to come.

So, here's to what God has in store - whatever type of sacrifice He calls me toward - with faith that He will give me the grace to meet each in its time and in His way.

Meanwhile, pray for the Bible camps across the world doing missions this summer with the kids in foreign lands and in your hometowns.

The Gift of Sleep

I have been reminded lately of how good is every little gift from God - even the ones for which we often forget to thank Him.

Someone once said, "Money can buy a bed, but it can't buy sleep." As I've been wrestling for the last week with not being able to fall asleep and waking at odd times for an hour or more at a time, I realized that I took sleep as a personal right, as something that I should just expect. Perhaps, I'll give a cursory prayer on the pretense of asking for a good night's rest, but it was just a pretense because I never really considered that sleep might not be mine upon command.

Sure, I've had rough nights before, but a whole string of them is frustrating. I started getting more tense at night, feeling more desperate to sleep, watching the hours slip by - precious few allotted to me for the purpose of sleeping. I would get my chance to rest each night, but morning brought the dread of the alarm as I rose more frustrated and tired than when I had laid down.

Finally, I slept through the night last night.

You can bet I thanked God.

Maybe I'll get to thanking Him for more things. But I hope now I'll start before He sees the need to remind me of a blessing through removing it for a time.

Heaven-Blessed

You know, I like to think that I have a fair amount of faith.

I mean, I've lived through a few things, had a few trials, picked up a few battle scars along the way. I pray, read my Bible, encourage my friends with Scriptural promises. Sure, I have faith.

Until I'm asking for things for me.

Sure, I ask. Yes, I want God to do things for me. But the way I ask sure isn't faith-filled all the time. I ask and remind and then try not to get my hopes up.

What sort of faith is that?!?

This weekend, I felt like God was laughing at me, Ephesians 3 style: "Really, daughter? You're trying not to get your hopes up? Watch this."

Not only did He provide my wedding dress (affordably!), not only did He give me flowers at half price, but He threw in a veil at 50% off and a pretty little headband basically for free!

I'm still astounded.
Amazed.
Grateful.

So grateful.

37

This morning, my radio alarm switched on just in time for me to hear that the national legislature is working on changing Obamacare again. According to the report, this is the thirty-seventh time they have repealed or amended one part of the bill or another.

What a way to start the morning! Hearing about my tax dollars getting used to address the same problem thirty-seven times over, thanks to that one fateful bill they passed way back in Obama’s first term. I wish those politicians would be more careful about what they do.

I mean, I’ve never done something that dumb. Nuh-uh. Not me. No way.

Except for that one sinful habit . . . or those couple idols . . . 

Naw, that’s completely different.

To get a habit or an idol, you have to first reject the idea, then look again, then nudge it with your toe. Then you back up from it, look away, glance back, move closer. Try it just once . . .

That doesn’t sound like the democratic process of persuasion at all. Does it?

Of course, there’s the aftermath, when I realize it wasn’t as good or benevolent as it looked from the outside. The times when I repent and start fresh just to fall again.

Yeah, that might look a little like their scramble over in Washington. But at least it doesn’t take me thirty-seven times to get it right! I’m better than that, right?

What’s that, LORD? Seventy-seven . . . ?

Oh.

Fret Not Yourself

Psalm 37:1-7

Fret not yourself because of evildoers;
    be not envious of wrongdoers!
² For they will soon fade like the grass
    and wither like the green herb.

³ Trust in the Lord, and do good;
    dwell in the land and befriend faithfulness.
⁴ Delight yourself in the Lord,
    and he will give you the desires of your heart.

⁵ Commit your way to the Lord;
    trust in him, and he will act.
⁶ He will bring forth your righteousness as the light,
    and your justice as the noonday.

⁷ Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him;
    fret not yourself over the one who prospers in his way,
    over the man who carries out evil devices!

Stop comparing your situation to others’! It is already your undoing! I have given you this time and these circumstances, my daughter. Don’t you see that your envy and covetousness is ungratefulness? You have this life, tailored to meet who I made you to be. Rather than wastefully wishing it away, embrace it and let it work its purpose in you!

I love you. Come to Me; come with Me. You can trust Me. You know that. Stop fretting and be still.