A Change of Plan

One thing this COVID chaos has done for us: it's made us very good at changing plans!

From my observation, people are a lot more understanding of last minute changes; they're more willing to go with the flow; they know now that some events really ARE beyond our ability to forecast and out of our hands to control. We're embracing in new ways Proverbs 16:9: "The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps." (ESV)

Not to brag, but I feel like I'm really getting good at the whole handling changes in my plans. I'm a planner, so not that long ago, last-minute changes made me CRABBY! But, take Thanksgiving for instance: our first THREE sets of plans all had to be scrapped before we were able to see a plan through to fruition! Friends, it's not often that I have to wait for my fourth round of planning to see some results! Talk about disappointing.

But it was still a good weekend.

We spent Thanksgiving as a family. We used Preston's extra day off (which was supposed to be used to go out of town) to decorate the entire ground floor (and most of the the second) for Christmas. We had lots of time with our precious daughters. I washed the van on the nice Saturday after Thanksgiving (after our third set of plans hit the dustbin). We even started Christmas baking. We had a lovely time, one we would have missed had our first few rounds of plans succeeded.

Yet, often, I fear the change of plans. I think of it as a malicious swipe at my happiness. I have my life laid out in the manner I want it to proceed, and anything that looks like it might change that is a threat. Yet, when God intervenes to "establish" our steps, we know that for the child of God, that can only mean good things (not necessarily pain-less things, but that's another topic...).

I came across an old Christmas hymn a while back called "Creator of the Stars of Night." The second verse has captured my mind the last twenty-four hours:

"Thou, grieving that the ancient curse

Should doom to death a universe,

Hast found the healing, full of grace,

To cure and save our ruined race."

Did you catch it?

Christmas is a celebration of a change of plans!

Back in the garden, Satan saw the crown of God's creation as a chance to wound God. He planted a doubt, fed it with a lie, nurtured a fear. And then humankind, in all our infinite wisdom (we thought), shucked God's rule for our life.

(Yes, it was Eve's hand that reached for the fruit. Yes, it was Adam who was "with her," yet did nothing other than acquiesce. But that seed of sin has woven itself deeply into your heart and mine. We are guilty in our DNA. Do you doubt it? When given the chance, we repeat the sin of our forebears. We, too, wave our fist in the face of the One who made us and scream, "I'll do it my way!")

God said don't, but we thought having knowledge like God couldn't be so terrible, so we ate that fruit. We had plans to be like God, to know good and evil, to take charge of our own existence. What a wonderful thought! What a titillating promise!

And it killed us. Our heart charted its course for damnation.

But (praise be to God!) He had a change of plan in mind. There were other steps He would establish for His children.

When Christ was born in the manger, it was under the shadow of the cross and with the promise of the resurrection. A baby in a manger does NOTHING for anyone without the rest of the story. If our hope of peace on earth and goodwill to men doesn't last past December 25, we're still just as doomed as we were the instant the juice of that fruit hit Adam and Eve's tongues. But if we consider advent as the anticipation not only of Christmas but also as an introduction to the entire church calendar of December through Easter, we see a path charted for us that ends not in death but in life as it was meant to be.

Where our attempt to rule ourselves spelled destruction for us, Christ stepped down and into earth, entered as one of His own creations, and stood in the path of God's righteous wrath. The locomotive of justice that was rightfully headed our way struck the only Son of God full force, entirely satisfying the demands of the law we could never keep.

So what is left for us?

Forgiveness from a holy God; reconciliation with Him, others, creation, and ourselves; the ability to walk in newness of life; an existence ransomed to serve God and enjoy Him forever!

Praise God for changes of plan!

"To God the Father and the Son

And Holy Spirit, Three in One,

Praise, honor, might, and glory be

From age to age eternally!"

The Darkness has Not Overcome

Fear is sneaky.

Most days, especially when the sun is shining, I can function normally and leave the rest to God.

But then there are the times when the days have been gloomy and the girls have been testy and night falls and I'm left feeling like the locomotive of COVID-19 is barreling down the tracks toward my family and it's only a matter of time til it hits and all I can do is hunker down and wait.

On one such night last week, I actually did something right about my emotions. I talked to my husband (who's been a voice of calm in the insanity of the last few weeks) and then went up to bed and opened my Bible.

(I'm working my way through "The Story," an adaptation of the NIV that presents the words of Scripture, while in selections, as one continuous story. Reading it is much like reading any other book, with breaks for chapters rather than separate books with chapters and verses. While there are brief editorial breaks to explain themes or summarize missing sections, it's largely simply the Biblical text, and it's been a nice way for me to get a new perspective on passages that otherwise have become rote.)

I opened to my bookmark, and this is the first thing that met my eyes.

That's where the stirring of the Holy Spirit stopped me, and what I believe He impressed on my heart was exactly what I needed at that moment. I'd like to share it with you, in the hope that you may be encouraged, too. It's maybe not completely cohesive, but hopefully it's coherent!

In the beginning - As God was speaking planets and molecules into existence, He already knew that the year AD 2020 would find a pandemic sweeping the globe.

He knew it all: the beginning of COVID-19 in China; Italy's anguish; that hospitals would be unprepared; the steady creep of the disease from our continent's coasts toward its interior. He already knew every detail of what was coming, including the ones we don't know yet.

He isn't surprised; He isn't less good; He isn't less in control.

the Word - Jesus, "the Word," is the sum total of God's message to humanity. He's the culmination of everything God had said before the New Testament, everything God has promised to say to His people, and everything God is ever going to say. Think of it! All this embodied in one 33-year life on planet Earth. (Spoiler alert: His life and teaching still have ramifications for us today!)

Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. - Seventh grade science tells us humans are made when an egg and sperm fuse to become a zygote. This mono-cellular carrier of a complete genetic code has all the information necessary to bring into being a fully functioning adult man or woman.

John, the writer of the above passage, tells us that it is actually an egg, a sperm, and God who make each person (although maybe not in that order...).

Psalms says God knitted my children together within my womb.

This is an issue of personal workmanship!

If I take pains that the frisky cat not claw up the afghan I crocheted - if I delight in the art and craftsmanship of my hand and my husband's and our friends' - if I hang these things on my walls and store them gently when they're not on display - how much more does my God care for the two miraculous lives He designed, built, and brought to life? We're not guaranteed a pass on suffering or even on infection, but He knows. He understands. My fear, my attempt to trust, my weakness in the face of the unknown, all of it.

And He loves my daughters more fiercely even than their mommy and daddy do, and He will work all things to good. They are safe in the hands that made them. (And while I still pray that my husband and I will be allowed to raise our children to adulthood, I also thank God for allowing us to raise them this day.)

life/light - In this time of disease, we understand our need for life much like we understand our need for light only when in a dark room in the middle of a power outage. Jesus possessed the life that was the light of all mankind.

And we killed it.

The darkness in you and the darkness in me rose up and extinguished Him. (We spend a lot of time talking about the good in everyone, but why would we put so much effort into proclaiming our goodness if there wasn't actually darkness - sin - there, too?)

He was dead.

Gone.
Kaput.
Laid in a grave.

(Have you been to a funeral? Looked in a casket? Seen it prepared to be lowered into the ground? How many of those people do you see walking down the sidewalk a week or two later?)

And for two days, it looked like the darkness had overcome.

But.

But then?

Then came Easter morning.

Please Stop Practicing Fear

COVID-19 is running rampant through our society, and it hasn't even made very many people sick yet.

Colleges are going online. Businesses are shutting corporate offices. The Army is closing bases to visitors. I even got an email from a grocery store regarding what they're doing to keep their customers safe! Solid facts seem hard to come by, as tables and charts show how much worse influenza is than coronavirus currently, yet predictions from the CDC are grim.

How do we respond? No one wants to be taken in by the boy who cried “wolf!”, but neither is it wise to disregard everything entirely.

Let's remember that God has not given us a spirit of fear (2 Timothy 1:7a).

So if our fear is not from God, where did it come from?

Consider this seriously. Whoever planted that fear did so for a reason. He/she/it/they wanted us to react from fear. We're effectively being controlled by this source without even realizing it!

If this fear is not from God, maybe we need to consider the benefits of giving it the proverbial boot. Let's stop practicing being afraid. Let's stop training fear into our children. Let's stop making decisions motivated by fear.

So what should we do, if anything? Consider what God HAS given us: a spirit of power and love and a sound mind (2 Timothy 1:7b).

Let's tackle these in reverse order.

• Wash your hands. Shouldn't it seem strange to us all that this seems like a such a revolutionary concept to everyone? We've known about germs since the 1860's. That's 160 years! Of course, wash your hands, but haven't you been doing that already?
• Reduce or eliminate junk food in your diet. Sugar makes it harder for your body to fight disease. (Include pop in this category, of course, but also sports drinks – if you haven't just exercised – and fruit drinks, too.)
• Eat foods that grew from the ground or had a mother, as Jillian Michaels says. The less processing that happens in between the source and you, the better. Your body needs nutrients and minerals to function well, not to mention defeat disease. (If your diet is deficient in a certain way, consider supplements. For example, fish oil for diets low in sea food, or vitamin D3 during a Minnesota winter.)
• Drink water. Half your weight in ounces is one recommendation. (Are you bored yet?)
• Exercise. Get that body working the way God intended it!

These are “sound mind” principles. They're things that make sense, that the more health conscious among us probably already do anyway.

What about love?

• Love your neighbor by covering that cough.
• Stay home when you're sick.
• Speak/post/send words of encouragement grounded in truth rather than feeding the fear.

And power?

• Pray for your family, your community, those at high risk, those who've contracted coronavirus, the medical providers caring for them, and the family of those who have died from it.
• Consider your plans with discernment, and then live your life.

What power there is in not harboring fear!

Before I close, I would like to urge us all to slow down, stop allowing knee-jerk reactions. Stop spreading the fear. Consider your actions thoughtfully, and make well-informed decisions. This is not the first terror to come to our fair shores – nor will it be the last (think of anthrax, West Nile, ebola, SARS, to name a few from recent history). Are we going to panic every time there's a new version? Aren't we tired of running around screaming, “The sky is falling!”?

Statistics are in: 100% of people die. No one gets off this planet alive. So are we going to spend our time stressing and over-analyzing every sniffle, or are we going to live as the dignified, respectable, courageous citizens of the United States of America that we are?

John 14:27 "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid." (ESV)

Philippians 4:5-7 "Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." (ESV)

Preparing for the Resurrection

No one prepared for the first resurrection.

We look through the Biblical record now, with the perspective of centuries, and see Jesus plainly telling His disciples of, preparing them for, His death and resurrection.

Yet when He came bursting out of the tomb, His followers were still in mourning. Mary Magdalene looked an angel in the face as he told her, “He is alive,” and she still sought His mutilated body.

“How could they have missed it?” we wonder sagely. With the exception of the extravagantly generous woman of Mark 14:3-9, no one saw Calvary - or Easter - coming. Defeat didn't fit their picture of the expected messiah. There was no room for humiliation and death in their version of what the christ would achieve.

We can fill hours with the prophecies they missed, misinterpreted, and overlooked. Starting in Genesis, God prepared His people for a Rescuer who would be bruised (3:15). But they wanted a rescuer who would fill the stomachs of his followers with food, who would drive out their oppressors in the vein of the Maccabees, and who could raise his army from the dead if need be.

Jesus didn't fit their ideal. And if their ideal wasn't fulfilled, they concluded, He must not have been The One.

Which is what makes the High Holy Days of the Church calendar an excellent time to ferret out our own beloved idols. Certainly, if the very people who walked the dusty roads beside Jesus missed His true nature, we who are distracted by books, screens, and thousands of voices bombarding us daily might also have some false ideas of our Savior.

• Maybe you've bought into the idea of a god who dispenses favor for those who check off all the items on his holy to-do list.
• Maybe your version of idolatry is a god who leaves you alone as long as you live a decent life.
• Maybe you think god is out to get you, just waiting for you to give him an opening to zap you.
• Maybe your god made you the way you are and would never dream of asking you to change a single aspect of your life.
• Maybe god made you basically good and wants you to follow your heart.

This isn't a comprehensive list, so if you're sweating over whether or not I'll mention your pet misbelief, don't let my omission quench the Spirit of conviction. I can identify a few, mostly because they've had to be weeded out of my own life. (I've still got plenty. I know, because the Holy Spirit tends to let me know about them from time to time, usually when I'm feeling most comfortable and smug with myself.)

Does it matter? Don't our little beliefs comfort us?

But if they're false ideas about God, we are in fact worshiping a false god. We form God in our image, and wonder why He doesn't perform to our specifications. We can even find Scriptures to support our beloved baals, for heaven's sake! So don't think, because you can give a reference that backs you, that you have an exclusive claim to understanding an aspect of God.

This Lent, and in your celebration of Easter, ask God to show you where you have worshiped an idol rather than the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

He will answer, because He is in the business of revealing Himself.

It's why we have Easter, after all.

Life & Death

Proverbs 31:8
"Open your mouth for the mute, for the rights of all who are destitute." ESV
"Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves; defend the rights of all those who have nothing." NCV
"Speak out for those who cannot speak, for the rights of all the destitute." NRSV
"Open your mouth for the speechless, in the cause of all who are appointed to die." NKJV

I've avoided my Facebook newsfeed over the last week or so. With a new baby staring up at me and postnatal hormones washing over me, it's too heart-wrenching to read over and over the implications of New York's new abortion law. Then, yesterday, I read Proverbs 31, although I really only got as far as verse 8.

How do we speak out for the unborn half a continent away? Even in a democratic republic like ours, it's hard to know what to do.

Do we rant on Facebook? Sign petitions? Write blog posts? Get out to vote in the next election?

Do Facebook posts change anyone's mind? Can a list of names really sway a politician over such an agenda-driven piece of legislation? What can another piece of cyber writing do that all the ones before it haven't? What good will my future vote here do for the babies who are dying today over there?

Maybe there's another way to open our mouths.

We can mourn.
We can be broken over the wickedness in our land.
We can grieve, privately and corporately.
We can, like Nehemiah, confess our people's sin.
We can ask God's intervention for the lives of the babies, yes, but also for the women and even the men who will be destroyed by one decision.
We can pray against the deceit of the enemy in the halls of capitol buildings as well as in the consultation rooms of abortion providers.
We can gather with other believers to pray for our children and for the children of our nation. (Any takers?)

We can live lives that value life.
We can reach out to the poor and homeless.
We can support the single mom or dad near us.
We can foster and adopt.
We can be patient with the mom ahead of us in the checkout line whose toddler begins to melt down.
We can teach our children of the intrinsic value of every single human being.
We can love the special needs individual.
We can adopt a zero-tolerance policy for bullying behavior or belittling words, spoken or typed.
We can make it our business to encourage the people we come into contact with each day.
We can be courteous to the fast food worker behind the counter and to the customer service rep on the phone.
We can care for the elderly neighbor.
We can take time for family dinner.

Because this isn't just about life in the womb. This is about life in all its forms. This is about fighting tooth and nail against the devil who "comes only to steal and kill and destroy" (John 10:10 ESV). (Heaven help us if this is what it takes for the American Church to realize that... Heaven help us if the American Church doesn't realize it after this.)

This is about the kind of life that only Christ gives and only Christians can offer to a dying world - abundant life.

Faith & Courage

Eight days ago, faith and courage met, and my world changed.

But it wasn't purely MY faith and courage. At times, my faith was fear and courage had fled; it was then that the faith and courage of others carried the transformation.

The world change?
The birth of my second daughter.

"The second time is easier," they say. "The second time is shorter," they [nearly] promise.

My second time was harder, and it was actually the same length as the first.

There were times I wanted to quit; those around me (literally) held me up.
There were times I didn't think I could finish; they cheered me on.

So much of life is a marathon - harder and longer and more discouraging than we thought it would be.

It's in those times that we ride the wings of the faith and courage of those around us.

That is, if those around us have faith and courage.

Who surrounds you today?

Gratitude as an Attitude

Gratitude has been the single most radical attitude adjustment I've ever experienced.

Once upon a time, I had the time and energy to be a volunteer Bible camp staff member. One year (I don't remember how it started), a couple of us girl staffers found a way to stay positive: if any of us seemed to be sliding toward complaining or a sour attitude, one would call out, "Attitude check!" and we would respond, "Praise the Lord!"

A bit trite? Maybe. But it worked. Every time.

Try being negative while giving thanks.
Try complaining when you're busy thanking God for His blessings.
Try holding a grudge when you're remembering what you've been forgiven.
Try coveting while taking note of the abundance of your possessions.
Try ruminating on all your failings while hearing God's truth spoken over you.

Lord, I can't see you. I feel so hopeless. Where are you in times like this? Do you see me here?
I see you. I know you. I know your circumstances; not one of them is outside my awareness.

Father, they've hurt me. Every time I try to forgive them, what they did rises before my eyes and blocks my prayers. How can I move past this?
Look at what I've forgiven you. Love them with the love I've given you.

I've had enough! This isn't fair. This isn't what I signed up for. I have my rights!
Do you remember what I did with My rights?

Gratitude - thanksgiving - sings with the joy of salvation and revels in the riches lavished upon us.

Think of your salvation story. Someday, maybe I'll put mine on here. I've shared bits with those around me as I felt it would be beneficial, but my husband is probably the only one who's heard the whole, ugly truth of it. I don't know about you, but when I think of the ick that's in there and what I've been saved from, my heart kneels in awe. To consider that God could use my story in His kingdom plan is nothing short of miraculous; remembering that gives me a whole lot more grace for those around me.

Thanksgiving colors the air around you when you breath it in and out daily. It changes how you see people and situations, and it affects how others see and respond to you.

It's not a stretch to say that gratitude could fix a lot of what is wrong with this world.
Prejudice.
Debt.
Hoarding.
Adultery.
Family squabbles.
Materialism.
They - and a host of others - all have the potential to fade into nonexistence when people are busy thanking God.

Thanksgiving...
So much more than the fourth Thursday in November.



"And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him." Colossians 3:15-17 ESV, emphasis added

A Job Done

Back in March, I posted about my desire to put together a meal for the carnival workers that staff the midway for our town festival, to thank them for their work and welcome them to our town. (If you haven't read that one, this one will make more sense if you read the March one first.) On the 12th of this month, that desire became reality.

Actually, toward the end of June, I started getting nervous. I had only heard back from one church, and the response from the newspaper notice was . . . insufficient. Donations came in generously, but as far as putting a meal together . . . I was starting to wonder if this whole thing was going to work.

So, back to Facebook I trotted. Created an event. Invited anyone in my friends circle from the area. Waited some more.

And the responses started coming!

The first one I got was from another young mom. We had only met recently, but we ran into each other again at the kiddie pool. She was going to bring a fruit salad and a dessert! I left the pool on a high.

The next few days included some follow-up and some more positive responses. Enough came in that the ones who couldn't come didn't make me nervous anymore.

This was actually going to happen!

The day of, my dear mother and my 91-year-old grandmother came to help N and me with finishing touches. The first thing we had to do was invite our guests of honor! We drove down to the park, printed invitations in hand, piled out of the car, and went in search of our carnival workers. We didn't have to look far.

We found some taking a break near the picnic shelter and handed out invites. Chatted with a middle-aged mom. Met her daughters. My mom reconnected with someone she actually knew who happened to be working the carnival this summer (leave it to Mom to find someone she knows!). Got directions to their trailers. Dropped off some more invites, tucking them under door handles when no one was around. Found a few workers for Mom to practice her Spanish inviting them.

I was a little nervous. I've never met someone who works the carnival circuit before, never had to carry a conversation with them. I hated that an unfamiliar, stereotyped vocation made me protective, suspicious, wary. But the more we talked, the more at ease I felt.

Having successfully dispersed invitations, both paper and word-of-mouth, we headed back for the house. We organized the gifts, finished baking a few dishes, loaded up two cars, and headed back to the park. Unloaded. Shuffled picnic tables at the shelter. Set up the gift area, the serving line, the drinks.

And people started to come!

We had three tables full of salads, main dishes, and desserts: from veggies and mac salad, to spaghetti and smoked pork loin, to chocolate peanut butter brownies and lemon meringue pie! Yummmmm . . .

The workers filtered in, we prayed, and started eating. A neighbor of mine, and an elder at a local church, had agreed to share a devotion, so while we fed our stomachs, he fed souls. He spoke about God sharing our joys, and he thanked the workers for the joy their work brings to us and our kids. He spoke Truth winsomely.

Some of the workers were open to conversation; others huddled together. The language barrier definitely created some, if not most, of that distance.

We found that these were moms and dads, families and individuals like us, just with an entirely disparate way of supporting themselves. Some had grown up in the carnival world - it was as normal to them as a home and an address are to us. One mom asked me if I could recommend someone to watch her one-year-old daughter while the midway operated - she worked a booth and her husband worked a ride. She wanted "a church lady, because there are weird people these days, and I would feel better if it were someone from a church." I turned to ask a friend, one with four kids of her own, and just that easily, we had her answer.

Conversations over delicious food

When no one could eat anymore, we loaded up everyone with the left-overs and with any of the gifts they wanted. Bath towels turned out to be in high demand, and I was excited that a couple Spanish translations of the Bible were taken. Many, many thank-yous were heard.

Picking through the gifts

When everyone had left, Mom and I tucked N and Grandma into the car with the AC running and finished the cleanup. We loaded everything for the last time, drove the half mile home, unloaded, put N down for a very late nap, washed, organized, put away. Took a cold shower.

I collapsed into an easy chair as Mom and Grandma went out the front door. Finished! Exhausted.

Deep breath . . .

And then N woke up.

Go Do Your Job

This post could be part 2 to the one I wrote last Saturday. Not in that this comes after it, but in the sense that this is the bigger picture, the other side of the topical coin, the driving force, or whatever other similar cliché you'd like to insert here.

Our pastor challenged us a while back with a thought which I'll paraphrase, since I didn't note his exact phrasing. The idea was this: If your church suddenly disappeared, would the surrounding, secular community notice? Would they care? Would your church be missed?

Now, I can't control everything my church does or doesn't do, but I certainly have a significant role in determining my own actions and pursuits. After all, as the people go, so goes the church, right? A church of inert believers isn't going to do much moving and shaking outside its own walls.

So, my question for you today is this: What sort of skin does your faith have?

Does it have bones and muscles?

Is it the type of faith that scrubs toilets, waits tables, and washes feet?

Is it practical?

Does it change those around you?

Does it change you?

Wait a minute, you might say to me, my faith is a private matter! It's an inward relationship. This isn't your business and I certainly don't have to prove myself to you to be a valid Christian!

You're right; I'm not the judge of authentic faith for believers. But you do have to reckon with a couple very persuasive, first-century teachers. One, for example, says that a faith that does not show itself by outward works is useless. Another seems to think that we've all received special abilities to serve, and so we should use them, and he even includes a list of ways to do just that! They're persuasive, and they're right, because they were divinely inspired to write those sections of Scripture.

So, stop and think.

On Monday morning, when your alarm rings, do you check your faith into "daycare" and make a mental note to pick it up again in time for church next week?

Is church just something you do because it's what you've always done?

Is it a place to be seen, like a club?

If your pew neighbor had never come to your church but ran into you on the street or met you at work, would they still assume that you're a Christ-follower?

Do you look like, sound like, act like Jesus, and more and more as the years tick by?

We're good at the head part of the Gospel, but let's not lose the heart. It's the heart that moves us with pity; it's the heart that cares for our neighbor; it's the heart that reaches out to the lost.

But - 

Maybe you're more on the social justice side of the Gospel. You advocate for the trafficked. You donate to the shelters. You volunteer. You give to the Christian radio station. You have people into your home for meals and conversation. You might even pray out loud in church.

Where's your head?

Remember, faith is not simply actions, it is conviction, attitude, a grasp of a belief. Don't think that you can busywork yourself into God's good graces. Matthew 7 records Jesus' own thoughts on the matter, and they're frightening.

Ephesians 2:8-10 may be one of the most famous Scriptural explanations of salvation. It reads,

"For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them." ESV

Do you notice that faith comes first? We have salvation through faith [by grace], with no merit through or from or by our doing.

But - 

Because of that salvation, we have good works to do, works God made us to do, which we can now do because of what Jesus did.

So, in other words, I could have just quoted those three verses and left out the rest of the blog post.

As you celebrate the death and resurrection of our Savior this weekend, remember that we celebrate the finished work of Jesus Christ. You can't add to it or take from it by what you do or do not do.

But - 

If it is truly a part of your life, shouldn't that flow out in gratitude through your good works? "Walk in them." Get off your duff and go do what God made you to do.

Letting God Do His Job

HELLO . . . hello . . . hello . . .

Ahh, the echoes of a long-neglected blog!

Usually, my posts grow out of a thought or impression that follows me over the course of several days until it has developed into a full-blown post. Lately, I've been running so fast trying to keep up with our 20-month-old that a thought flies out of my head before it has a chance to root, much less grow into anything worthwhile. Besides - blog or sleep? No contest, lately!

But, for you kind souls who like to amuse yourselves while humoring my vanity by reading these posts, I'll let you in on something that has managed to keep pace with my life lately. It's been much longer in the making than my typical posts, actually.

Go back with me several summers. We had only owned our small-town home a short while but were rapidly falling in love with the idea of raising a family here. We felt we lived in a real-life Mayberry, in the best sense of the expression. The people were kind, the town was clean, and the opportunities were just perfect for our purposes.

These happy thoughts were percolating while I was out for an early-morning jog, trying to beat the heat that July day. My usual route took me past the town park where the carnival was setting up in anticipation of our town festival that weekend.

Now, I've never spent much time thinking about carnival workers and their lives. Of course, I've seen some flicks and heard some stories about the rough life they lead or the shady character that can be a carnie, but that was about all the time I'd ever bothered about them. So, when I say, "the thought crossed my mind," I really don't mean to imply that it came from me. But, it was in my mind, suddenly, and I didn't know what to do with it:

"I wonder what they think of our town?"

The thought stopped me in my tracks. What? Of course they know what a lovely town this is, what nice people we are.

How would they know? What if your town is just another stop to them? Another weekend, to make another check, to pack up and do it again for another town just looking to have a good time?

Did they think we were snobs? Did we ignore them? Treat them as less-than?

What if they didn't even like being here in my town?

Well, I didn't like bothering with such uncomfortable thoughts. After all, I was still a new-comer. What could I do?

So, I finished my jog and conveniently forgot all about the whole thing.

Until last summer.

When the same thing happened all over again.

I can be dense, but I listened better the second time.

But, how does one reach out to a carnie? What do they need? What would they be open to having someone do for them? What have others done?

Enter the all-knowing Google!

Except, Google didn't really know, either.

I searched "carnival worker ministry," and I maybe got a handful of articles, written 10 years ago or more.

Except there was one hit from a Facebook page, dated earlier that summer, and titled (drumroll, please!), "Carnival Worker Ministry"!

Eureka!

I backtracked to the hosting church's website - for a church in Kentucky - and shortly had a phone number.

Gathering my courage about me, I put N down for a nap, tucked into my easy chair with a pen and a sticky note, and dialed the number into my cell.

A couple of rings later, I was speaking with a kind woman with a Southern lilt to her words - not so much that I couldn't understand her, but enough that I made sure to listen closely!

Wouldn't you know it, she just happened to be part of the women's group that headed that particular ministry. I told her my reason for calling, explained Google's lack of assistance, how I had found their page, and asked, "What do I need to know?"

She was positively tickled that I had called and gladly walked me through their yearly potluck dinner with the carnival workers, explained how they prepared, what sort of gifts they collected via donations to send with them, and much more.

At the end of our conversation, I thanked her, and she left me with the church's email address, requesting photos should anything come of our conversation.

Earlier this year, I contacted our festival board, and they were thrilled to have new ideas and new blood - especially, I think, since I was willing to head up the project!

The library is willing to be the collection site of donations.

Now, I am in the stage of contacting area churches. I sent out emails late Thursday afternoon and nervously check my inbox every time my phone chimes.

I would like this to be a community effort, but I want to have a devotion during the meal and give Bibles and devotional materials along with the other gifts, so I need it to clearly be an interchurch and community event. In order to have an interchurch event, I need churches involved.

So, I wait. And pray.

It's scary not knowing what will happen.

Maybe no one will want to come to the potluck. Then I will be doing a lot of cooking.

Maybe a lot of community members will show at the potluck, but none of the carnival workers will bother. That would be awkward.

But, I can't control that.

I can only step out, one foot after the other, in what I believe to be the path I've been asked to follow.

It seems God has been asking me to do that sort of thing more often lately - do what I am supposed to do and leave the rest to Him.

It's tough letting God do His job.

But it's much less work than doing it for Him.

A Christmas Miracle

It's snowing. Cinnamon raisin bread bakes in the oven behind me. N is upstairs in her crib - not sleeping, but content.

It's a rare moment to sit and reflect in the middle of holiday preparations.

When did Christmas start to mean making so many plans you meet yourself coming and going? We've got parties and presents, gatherings and goodies, cards and church. Preparation consumes days, evenings, lists, budgets.

Historically, Christmas was a mass, maybe with stockings stuffed with oranges and chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil. People didn't plan holiday schedules months in advance. Sometimes, there weren't any gifts at all. Did they not know that Christmas is about the joy of giving and family togetherness? I guess Hallmark hadn't gotten that message to them yet.

Of course, if you want a party, you could go back to that first Christmas: the actual evening Jesus was born. There weren't shiny baby announcements printed by an online printer; but there were angels announcing his birth. There wasn't a baby shower; but there were those really rich guys who came months late with a fortune - not an exaggeration - in gifts.

Something big happened. Something to trigger heaven's hosts to sing. Something that would cause people - even people who don't actually profess faith - millennia later to pause their usual lives and acknowledge a peculiarity in the day.

It wasn't family togetherness. Joseph and Mary don't seem to have been welcome with their families back in Nazareth.

It wasn't the joy of giving. Those smelly shepherds who showed up that night probably didn't leave anything behind them other than a pungent odor.

It was Emmanuel. "God with us."

What's the big deal about that?

Do you realize that every other religion on the face of the earth is an attempt by man to reach god(s)? Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam . . . even some that borrow language from Christianity and encourage their people to read the Bible, they're all a story of men striving to make themselves right. People trying to approach God through working, praying, fasting, denying themselves, traveling to holy places. They know something stands between man and God, and they do everything humanly possible to get past that or to outweigh it with "good" things so God will approve of them.

Christmas is a big deal because that is when God gave us the gift we never saw coming: He came to us.

Emmanuel.

God with us.

No more striving. No more analyzing whether we've done more good than bad. No more comparing and wondering and worrying. God reached down, became a man, so he could die. So he could rise. So he could obliterate death and sin.

Not so the good works would outweigh the bad, but so that the bad would die - poof - gone.
Not so we could get to God, but so that God could live in us.
Not so we could do good things, but so that God could act through us.
Not so we could have a good life, but so that we could live eternally.

If that's not a Christmas miracle, I don't know what is.

The true light, which gives light to everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him. He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him. But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God.

John 1:9-13 ESV

The Struggle, Reviz

Back in May, I posted about the importance of struggles in our lives, how they help us grow, if we let them. Now, after having a daughter for five months, I've been rethinking my perspective on it all.

I don't recant anything I wrote then. It's more of a shift in attitude.

Here's what I mean:
My daughter, N, cries in her cradle.
I know that she needs a nap; I can hear the sleep-need in her voice. But she sounds so sad. And then she gives that hiccupy sob that sounds like her heart is breaking - and it threatens to break mine.
I could go in, pick her up, cuddle her, comfort her, rock her to sleep, and hold her in my arms for her entire nap.
I want to.
Or
she fusses over tummy time.
She doesn't want to work on holding up her head anymore! She's tired, and she's tired of laying her face back on the blanket on the floor. The whole rolling-over thing is complicated, and it is a toss-up whether or not she might make it work, and it's a lot of work! "Mom!" she seems to yell, "come fix this!"
And I want to fix it.
Oh, how I want to take it all away and reassure her of my loving presence.
I have done so on occasion.
A lot of the time, I don't.
I have the power to remove that sorrow from her life, yet I opt not to.
Why? Why would a loving parent allow his child - the child he loves more than breath - to be sad, lonely, upset? How can a parent call himself loving when he could fix it, but doesn't? Why would a parent put himself through those tears and heartache when even he would like to swoop in with a rescue?
I know why I do.
I have a bigger picture in mind than little five-month-old N can imagine. I can see the results when I have given in too often. I have a goal of health and happiness in mind for N that allows me to push through discomfort - hers and mine - in order to reach it. (And, I have a stellar husband who is my biggest cheerleader, my fellow disciplinarian, and the foremost member of my support system!)

This all has been affecting my change of mind. I have always seen God as the loving but firm Father, the one who disciplines us à la Hebrews 12:3-11.

"God is treating you as sons," the passage says of times of discipline.  "He disciplines us for our good. . . . For the moment all discipline seems painful . . . but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it."

How stoic those words can seem! How stiff and unbending we can make God appear when we toss out these words of "comfort" to someone in the midst of their struggle.

Is this God? Is this our heavenly Father? Is this His heart?

"[Do not] be weary" in times of discipline, the author urges, because "the Lord disciplines the one he loves." This, too, sounded condescending but firm to my childish heart. "Don't be sad about the hurt," I once heard, "It's all for your good in the end, so brush it off and have a good attitude."

But, not being a parent yet, I missed something.

12:3 begins, "Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself." Who is this? Jesus, of course, whom 5:7 describes this way: "In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears . . . " This is the same Jesus that 4:15 assures us "sympathize[s] with our weaknesses."

This is me with N. This is the sadness I experience with her. This is my heart, aching to fix things for her, able to fix things for her, yet knowing, because of my love for her, that I must not.

You know what that tells me?

God hurts with us.

Think of that! The Creator of the universe, the one with all power and all knowledge, the one who knows that the struggle is important, He feels our pain with us! He is not up there somewhere, smiling grimly or grinning gleefully over our misery. He hurts for our pain, so much so that He exchanged His only begotten Son for us adopted sons in order to put things to rights.

Of course, everything is not all put to right yet. We still feel the effects of a broken world and our own broken souls. We're in process still, and that means growing pains as we go, and it means sharp, piercing pains as the filth is dug out of us like infection out of a tooth.

But don't lose heart in the pain. This discipline - literally, disciple-making - has been carefully chosen, painstakingly vetted as the right tool for the task of producing a holiness like our big Brother's.

And, even more so, take comfort:
Those tears you've cried over that struggle in your life or in the life of your loved one - He's cried with you. That ache in your heart from the unresolved issue that constantly nags and threatens and circles back for more - He feels it, too.

He's your Daddy, and He hurts with you.

A Foray into Fear

As a mother, I have stared down the throat of fear like never before.

It comes and goes, but when it comes, it's intense.

During our pregnancy, plenty of reasons to fear surfaced. What if something is wrong? We can't see the baby in utero, so what if his or her heart stops? We might not know for days. Or so-called mother's intuition - how do I know if something is just a worry or if something is actually awry? We were excited for the baby's birth if for no other reason than that we could see the rise and fall of that little chest for ourselves!

New fears took their place with N's birth: does her breathing sound normal? Do I dare let her sleep next to me? Should I worry about SIDS or not? Am I changing her diaper often enough?

Some fears come around daily; others, I've managed to release with time; some, though, come flying out of what seems like nowhere, and those are the hardest to prepare for.

I had an encounter with one of the third kind recently, and it had to do with vaccines.

P and I have been doing our research. We've read about each disease, its likelihood of occurrence, and its complications. We weighed that against each vaccine, the ingredients of each, and their side effects. We took into account our life situation and the circumstances surrounding N's likely childhood. Then, we made our decisions. I thought I was at peace with it all.

But then came the night before her first appointment.

Fear filled me as I watched our bright-eyed little girl laugh, chatter, and squirm. What if she was one of those rare cases who comes down with a horrendous side effect? What if our active, happy baby girl was irreparably changed - forever - within a matter of a few hours?

Thankfully, I had the good sense to talk to P about it before bed that evening.

"Are we doing the right thing? Did we make the right decisions?"

He looked at me levely and simply said, "We made the right decisions."

His confidence jolted me out of my tizzy of worry and gave me the reassurance I needed to fall asleep.

That's when the whole thing got strange.

I dreamed that he and I were trying to pray together when he suddenly started saying, "I'm just so afraid," over and over. A Bible verse flashed through my mind: "God has not given us a spirit of fear..." (2 Timothy 1:7). I realized that the unexplained fear couldn't be coming from God, which meant it had dark origins. I am not one to witch hunt, nor am I very comfortable talking about the presence of demonic forces, but, in my dream, that was the only thing to which I could contribute this oppressive fear.

Still, I hesitated to say anything. That's when we both began to be paralyzed. We couldn't move our limbs, breathing became difficult, and speaking was nearly impossible. I knew then that I couldn't stay silent and began gasping Jesus' name.

The paralysis began to wane, so I stopped speaking, only to have it then return, so I started calling on Jesus again. This time it receded for good.

That's when I woke up, or thought I did. I was back in my own bed, P sleeping beside me, and I could hear N softly babbling like she will at times. The thought occurred, what if the demonic oppression was there because it was trying to get at N?

I woke P and asked him to check, make sure she was okay.

She wasn't in her cradle; she was laying between us in the bed. She was fine.

But how did she get there? P said he hadn't put her there. "I must have walked in my sleep," was my conclusion, and we went back to sleep.

The next morning, I realized that none of the second part had actually happened. I had dreamt all of it, which P confirmed when I told him about it.

At first, I only shook my head over the weird things a brain can do while a body is at rest. I probably ate something that disagreed with me, right? Trust me, I do not get into interpreting my dreams - at all. I believe God can and does use dreams to minister to people, but the dream's message is always confirmed through Scripture. Besides, I really didn't see God using them in that way in my life. I figured that I'm too skeptical for Him to want to use them to speak to me.

Whether this was a divine message or not, as I ruminated upon it, I took comfort in a couple aspects of the dream. Firstly, that I knew where to turn to do spiritual battle. Secondly, that whatever it was that was going on, none of us were harmed in either section of the dream. Finally, that N not only was fine, but also that she showed up between us, in a place of protection.

P prayed with me before he left for work, and I made the trip to the clinic with far less trepidation than I had felt earlier.

After N's appointment, we made it in time for my Wednesday morning Bible study. We're studying Hebrews right now, and I am loving it! I had prepared by going through the material for the week, but two verses nearly leapt off the page as we read the passage that morning: "Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood,  he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery" (Hebrews 2:14-15).

Fear, specifically the fear of death, means slavery. We walked in that fear before salvation - were doomed to it for life.

But Jesus.

Jesus saw our frail composition and took it upon Himself.
He destroyed death's power by defeating its king.

When I made the decision to make Jesus my King, I left death's dominion. In the face of my impotence, however, I tend to totally forget God's omnipotence. In my weakness, I go back for visits into slavery to fear when I forget that He has all things under His control.

God's omnipotence means that all things work together into His plan (Romans 8:28).

All things.

Vaccines, diseases, life decisions.
Politics, elections, the fates of nations.

He isn't up there trying to figure out how to clean up our messes; He ordains every situation and every outcome, using them for the good of His Church and for His glory.

With a King like that, how can I fear?

Anticipation

Our due date draws near! Anticipation mounts!

I know it could be any day now, but I have just been so busy doing other things that I have been putting off some of the prep for baby. (S/he's not coming today after all!)

We have been meaning to paint and clean carpets and gather furniture for the nursery, but life has sort of gotten in the way. I mean, I know I'm about ready to pop, but we have been with family for various happy occasions, been involved with church events, been keeping up with friends . . . good things! We plan to be ready for baby, but there's surely plenty of time.

I can't see my toes anymore, but I can clean and arrange and all that right before baby arrives, right?

I know we will need diapers and wipes, onesies and blankets, a car seat and a diaper bag, but if I get too involved with all that now, I might miss time with people and chances to live life the way I want to.

After all, the baby isn't here yet! I can worry about choosing an attending physician and a hospital for the birth eventually. Why should I let a baby who isn't even here yet dictate my life choices any sooner than necessary? That will come, I know, but let's not rush into things.

We've got time!

Right?


"For you yourselves are fully aware that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night. While people are saying, 'There is peace and security,' then sudden destruction will come upon them as labor pains come upon a pregnant woman, and they will not escape. But you are not in darkness, brothers, for that day to surprise you like a thief. For you are all children of light, children of the day. We are not of the night or of the darkness. So then let us not sleep, as others do, but let us keep awake and be sober."
1 Thessalonians 5:2-6 ESV

Note: The state of our preparations for baby's arrival as reported above is fictional. How foolish we would be to leave something so important until the last minute!

The Struggle

Our little family is in the third trimester now.

Third trimester.

That sounds so much scarier than the first or second trimester did. Now, labor is impending. A birth is coming and coming soon. We are closer now to being honest-to-goodness parents than we are to our past of being just a couple.

All this has been brought forcefully to my full attention as I wait to hear from one of my dear friends who is laboring to bring their daughter into this outside world. I have been praying for the three of them in the silence between text updates, trying not to worry over long silences, practicing trusting that all is well when I so desperately desire that nothing go wrong for our dear friends.

All of which makes me think of the last time I worked in our church nursery.

It was a fairly full Sunday, but we volunteers were handling it well. I was cuddling and rocking a little boy who was sleepy/weepy, which lent me the chance to observe some of the others. There was the brother-sister duo who were playing with the plastic food, the little guy who wanted to read books, and one particular little girl who was on a mission of her own making.

She was attempting to climb up onto the Little Tykes slide, which, ordinarily would not have been much of a challenge for her. She had, for whatever reason, decided that today she wanted to take a a toy up there with her.

This was a good-sized toy, not too heavy, but cumbersome enough that she had to push and prod and shuffle it around while trying to get a leg up on the playset, cacthing it as it threatened to tumble from a precarious perch, adjusting it, and trying again.

My rocker was close to the playset, and I found myself ready to lean over and reach out a hand. One little push and it would be easily centered on the platform above the slide and all that would remain would be for her to follow it herself. Mission accomplished, right?

But before I could lean over and act on the impulse to rescue her, the thought flashed across my mind, "The struggle is important."

I sat back, wondering where the thought had come from, and just that quickly, she had pushed the toy to a secure position and crawled up after it.

The struggle is important.

Sometimes, it is simply important in the sense of accomplishment that follows knowing we persevered when it was hard and got it done anyway.

It is certainly important to the development of infants and toddlers as they learn to hold up their heads, roll over, crawl, run.

Children struggle to read or write or do simple sums but later go on to college and grad school where they have a whole new set of struggles to vanquish.

And parents get to go through their own struggles of pregnancy, birth, and child-rearing - and then they look back and wonder where the time went.

All these struggles are a prelude to learning more, doing more, being more. There is no growth where there is no struggle.

The struggle is important.

Of course, we have families - families of blood and families of Spirit - who gather around us, support us in our struggles, help us with the resources to make it through, and sometimes even remove the struggle from our lives. They are an important part of life, placed there by God's own loving hand of provision.

But we must not be too quick to pray for the removal of our struggles. We must not be so short-sighted as to assume that the faster an issue is resolved, the better it is for us or for our struggling friend.

Growth happens in the action of struggling. Yes, we can grow bitter, but if we truly believe that the struggle is important, we are more likely to lean into the pain, eager for the outcome that rewards at the end.

Sometimes, that outcome is one successful step.
Sometimes, we are rewarded by discovering a world of possibilities between the pages of a book.
And sometimes, after the struggle, we get to meet our very own flesh and blood.

Stop and Feel the Roses

Do you ever think about what a boring place this world would be without texture?

I have pondered it lately due, in no small part, to a proclivity to nausea throughout the last several months (if you'received wondering why, read about the reason here). This seems especially relevant in the area of food.

Think of your favorite food for a moment. You can probably smell it, taste it, see it laid out in front of you, and feel it in your mouth. That "feel" may be the last thing I think of when it comes to food, but for some foods I avoid, I find that that is the primary reason for my dislike. It may looks nice, smell nice, and taste nice, but if that texture is too slimy, or grainy, or lumpy, it can completely overwhelm a dish's other positive attributes.

And textures in food are just a beginning!

I have a sweater I love, except that it itches when I wear it. My favorite around-the-house clothes look awful, but they feel so nice. When I bought sheets for our bed recently, I spent more time with my hand in among the cloth than I did picking a color.

Or the beauty of the outdoors? Imagine the green and brown of a tree - but without the fifty shades of each that textures give. It would look like a child's drawing: good enough for the refrigerator door, but a sorry excuse for a sweeping panoramic or idyllic pastoral.

And that is just a tree! There is the wonderful spiny texture of grass, the velvety curves of flowers, the soft bounce of clouds, the sweeping curve of sky, and the breath-taking undulations of a world covered in snow.

All that, and I haven't even touched on colors!

What a world of beauty and wonder we inhabit (yes, even those of us in a Midwestern winter)! There is a God I know, and I get my delight of texture from Him. How do I know? Because He did not have to make a world of textures. But He did. He made them, which tells me that He likes them, too.

So, take a moment, please, to stop and feel the roses.