December 28th

This song has really been speaking to my heart lately. I heard it on the radio on the way back down to Indiana, and it made me cry.

Look Heart, No Hands, by Randy Travis

I remember how it used to feel
Ridin' down ol' two mile hill
Tennis shoes up on the handlebars
Payin' no mind to them passin' cars
No doubts, no fears
Just like when you are here

No chains, no strings
No fences, no walls
No net, just you
To catch me when I fall
Look heart, no hands

Took a little time to get up to speed
To find the confidence and strength I'd need
To just let go and reach for the sky
You know, sometimes it felt I could fly
No doubts, no fears
Just like when you are here

It doesn't take much
Just a smile or a touch
And I'm a kid again
I can almost feel that wind

No chains, no strings
No fences, no walls
No net, just you
To catch me when I fall
Look heart, no hands

December 28th

Lately, I've been thinking about this verse:

Those who accept my commandments and obey them are the ones who love me. And because they love me, my Father will love them. And I will love them and reveal myself to each of them.”
John 14:21

This is not an idle promise on the part of Jesus.

I remember first reading this, and just discarding it, with a kind of weary despair.

That's because I was confused as to what His commandments were- the Bible is full of laws- and I knew absolutely my own inability to be obedient to them.

I figured I would never be able to love Jesus the right way. I would have to muddle through somehow.

Then, this fall, when I read it again, it hooked me right away. Jesus will reveal Himself?

The Amplified Bible put it like this, in brackets:

I will let Myself be clearly seen by him and make Myself real to him.

Whoa.

I wanted that- I wanted that very badly. And as I grew in understanding, I learned that Jesus has two commandments: to love God with all one's heart, soul, strength and mind, and to love others as oneself.

Note, by the way, that it's to love God with all the heart, soul, strength and mind that you have available, not more than you have.

One offers up all that one has, even if it's a little strength, even if it's a broken heart, even if its a wounded soul or a confused mind.

One can lean one's whole self into these commandments, because upon these commandments hang all the rest of them.

Knowing that simplified things for me.

So I begged Jesus to enable me to love others as myself, so that I could keep His commandments, so that I could see Him more and more clearly.

Quite unsurprisingly, Jesus has been answering this prayer. He has been doing it in an unexpected way- which, I am learning, is very typical of Him.

He began to teach me, over and over again, that I could not love others well if I could not love myself. And I could not learn to love myself on my own- I had to let Jesus love me.

Jesus has been teaching me to drop my self judgments. They do me no good. If I am going to love others unconditionally, I must first love myself to that degree.

This is hard to do. I used to have a different system going.

In the previous system, I tried and failed. To make up for my failure, I judged and then punished myself. Then I tried again, only to fail yet again. Then I judged myself more harshly and punished myself more stringently.

This old system does not want, to borrow a phrase from Dylan Thomas, to go quietly into that good night. It burns and raves.

However, that system is no match for the love of God, which is the most dynamic force in all of creation. Nothing can stand before it- certainly not my crummy old system, which gets dissolved by love.

Consequently, I have in fact, been seeing Jesus more and more clearly. He is breathtakingly real to me.

Note that none of this happened by my own efforts. I did not try on my own to love others. If I had, I would have failed miserably.

I did nothing but ask for love, and when it came, I learned to surrender myself more and more deeply to that love. In surrendering to love, I mirrored that love out to others around me.

We were created by Love, we are kept by Love and we mirror that love back out, to the very One that created us, and to those around us.

When we do this, we see God.

It's a perfect system.

December 24th

Christmas Eve. I've always loved Christmas Eve.

I'm up in Indiana, by the way. Keith's back was so much better we decided to head up after all.

I've been wanting to blog this for a while, but with travel and all, I haven't had a chance. I've just been carrying it around in my heart, so I wouldn't forget.

After I wrote the blog about the third chapter of John, I wanted immediately to write more like that, just because it was such a pleasurable thing to write.

Who knows what it was really like- but just illustrating it with words was so satisfying, even if the words can't do justice to the reality.

So, in bed that night, I was thinking through all the other scenes in John, thinking which one I might chose. But none of them had that "spark" or inspiration that let me know I could actually write it out.

As usual, I was resting in the close and loving presence of Christ, so I said to Him, "You're not in any of these."

That may sound strange, because the whole book is about Him, so of course He's in it. But what I meant was that I didn't see Him as vividly in those other scenes.

He said, That's because I'm right here.

"Yes, Jesus," I said, with a kind of humble joy.

I like this response- the response He's teaching my heart to say- I like it much better than my old response, which was to flatly deny His grace and love out of a deep feeling of unworthiness.

For a while there, I began saying, "Yes, Lord," as a sort of automatic response to His voice and it wasn't long before I felt Him check me.

Jesus reminded me of how I had used to hide my true self behind my religious behavior, and among those behaviors was using the title "Lord."

Which is a completely appropriate title- He is the Lord of Lords and King of Kings. But He didn't want me to go back to hiding behind the formality of the title.

When I was first getting used to having Him so close and real, one night, I used the phrase "I worship You," as opposed to the outflow of my heart, that springs up like a song without words. It was as though I were trying that phrase out for the first time, and it did feel a little stiff to me.

When I said "I worship You," I felt Jesus draw even closer to me. I felt His tender love of me, and most surprisingly, I felt His loving humor.

He said tenderly, How formal my little one is tonight!

That was the first time I ever experienced His loving humor. It took me so by surprise- that was not at all the response I had been expecting from Him. But, oh! How it made me love Him more.

It's like He said to the woman at the well:

"It's who you are and the way you live that count before God. Your worship must engage your spirit in the pursuit of truth. That's the kind of people the Father is out looking for: those who are simply and honestly themselves before him in their worship. God is sheer being itself—Spirit. Those who worship him must do it out of their very being, their spirits, their true selves, in adoration."
John 4:23-24, The Message

Tonight and tomorrow, we celebrate our God with us. Not far away, not unreachable, not aloof- He is with us.

Our God is living with us, suffering right alongside of us, speaking to us, teaching us and above all, loving us in each moment of each day, right where we are in our life.

How could we not worship Him in adoration, in the truth of who we are and who He is?

Let every heart prepare Him room!

December 21st

One of my favorite chapters in John is the third chapter.

When I read the first half of that chapter now, I like to imagine how it might have been. This is what I like to imagine:

As I begin to read, walls spring up around me, stone walls, dimly lit by a small, smoldering fire. There are dark shadows draping walls, floor, ceiling. It's warm and quiet in the room, and it seems to be full of people not clearly seen.

Some of them are asleep on mats. But two or three are awake, and sitting by the fire. They are talking quietly. There is the sound of their voices and of men breathing and the wind outside the walls.

It is late at night, but not so late that they are dizzy with exhaustion- just late enough to talk with hushed voices and long, peaceful pauses.

But there comes a knock on the door- heads lift and turn, the sleepers stir. Everyone looks at each other. Who could this be?

Someone pads over and opens the door, and leads in an unexpected visitor. His name is Nicodemus. He's a Pharisee- a leader among the Jews.

He is sneaking in under cover of night to speak face to face with Jesus, the Teacher who is creating such an uproar, stirring up such questions and hopes and fears.

Nicodemus settles himself cautiously down beside the fire and his eye search the face of Jesus, who sits across from him.

A few of the disciples are close at hand, listening and watching. The room is so quiet that they can hear the soft sound of a burning log falling into the coals, sending up a little cloud of sparks.

The first thing Nicodemus says is a confession, one that had perhaps grown more and more heavy on his mind as time had passed. It is perhaps the very reason why he had come- why he had had to come, despite the risks.

"Teacher," he said, humbly, “we know that You are a teacher come from God; for no one can do these signs that You do unless God is with him.”

The Teacher from Nazareth leans forward slightly, His eyes intent upon Nicodemus's face. Jesus' voice is resonate with grace, but it has a quiet and unshakable authority. He goes straight to the heart of the matter, knowing the heart of the man before Him.

Jesus says, “Most assuredly, I say to you, unless one is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.”

A puzzled look springs into Nicodemus's eyes. He frowns slightly, as he tries to think this unconventional thought through. Could the Teacher be speaking literally?

Every man in that room longs for the Kingdom of God to come. What their Teacher has to say about this is of utmost importance to them, and He has just thrown them a curve ball.

"How can a man be born when he is old?" Nicodemus asks at last, groping for meaning. "Can he enter a second time into his mother's womb and be born?"

Jesus' voice is full of certainty when He answers - it clear that He is not expounding on a theory, or building a case.

“Most assuredly I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God. That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit."

Jesus sees the questioning, half disbelieving look in Nicodemus' face, and it makes Him smile. Jesus knows Nicodemus very well, and loves him.

"Do not marvel that I said to you, ‘You must be born again," Jesus continues, His eyes twinkling.

As He so often does, He uses an illustration to help open their understanding- "The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear the sound of it, but cannot tell where it comes from and where it goes. So is everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

As Jesus speaks, He gestures unconsciously with His hands; they are the roughened hands of a laborer. Every eye is on him, wondering and considering what He is saying.

Unbidden, memories of the wind come to them, shaking the leaves of the olive trees silver before the rain and carrying the scent of water.

They remember the wind splintering the surface of the lake into shimmering light and sometimes driving it up into terrifying billows of water, pelting them with hard drops of rain.

Nicodemus breaks the spell by his desperate need to understand something concrete, for an answer that he can make sense of. Why won't He just speak sense, Nicodemus wonders?

"How can these things be?" he asks Jesus, his eyes pleading.

“Are you the teacher of Israel, and do not know these things?" Jesus asks him gently. He leans forward, one hand on His knee. When He speaks, His voice reverberates with a mysterious depth; it causes the men to sit perfectly still, their eyes riveted on Him.

"Most assuredly, I say to you, We speak what We know and testify what We have seen," Jesus says, in that voice that causes their souls to wake and stir, "and you do not receive Our witness. If I have told you earthly things and you do not believe, how will you believe if I tell you heavenly things?"

Almost, the men have forgotten to breathe. The darkness in the room is full of a kind of sacred stillness.

Their minds are on the verge of some deep secret of God, some plan, some idea so wonderful, so unexpected, so extraordinary, that one no but God had ever dared consider it, or put it in motion. Almost, they can grasp it, but it eludes them.

"No one has ascended to heaven but He who came down from heaven," Jesus speaks quietly into the stillness, one hand gesturing towards Himself, "that is, the Son of Man who is in heaven. And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life."

Jesus pauses, watching the faces of the men around Him, to be sure they have taken in what He has been saying. They are watching Jesus of Nazareth with wondering eyes, hope dawning there with each word He speaks.

Jesus leans forward, His own eyes alight with the pleasure of speaking this truth out loud, to those that were with Him in that room, and to everyone else that would ever hear them.

"For God so loved the world," Jesus discloses, His voice full of unshakable joy, "that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life. For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world," He continues, gesturing to emphasize the importance of the distinction, aware of the misconception He knows they harbor, "but that the world through Him might be saved."

Might be saved, they wonder? The world? The whole world? Weren't they just talking about the nation of Israel?

“He who believes in Him," Jesus continues, gesturing to Himself, "is not condemned; but he who does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God."

Jesus' voice grows soft with sorrow, with regret. He leans back, His eyes shadowed. He looks tired, all of a sudden.

"And this is the condemnation," the Teacher explains- "that the light has come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. For everyone practicing evil hates the light and does not come to the light, lest his deeds should be exposed."

He sighs deeply; the men stir, as though coming out of a spell. Jesus looks at them fondly and continues speaking to them now in a different tone of voice. He looks at Nicodemus.

"But he who does the truth comes to the light, that his deeds may be clearly seen, that they have been done in God,” Jesus says to him, and smiles.

I think Nicodemus must have left that house walking like a drunk man, unsteady on his feet. Wonder must have filled him- he wouldn't have known whether he wanted to cry or to shout for joy.

Anyway, that's what I like to imagine.

December 21st

Peaceful.

December 19th, Later

On my walk, I was so thirsting for stillness that I didn't even take along my music. I wanted nothing but the sound of the wind, the dry scrape of leaves along the road, the rustle as squirrels darted from tree to tree and the chirp and burble of birds hidden in the bare branches.

The sky was a pale winter blue, banded by clouds that sometimes passed over the sun, casting the hillsides into shadow. But under the sun, all the fallen leaves glistened like polished bronze.

When my walk had taken me full circle, I clambered down the flat rocks that form a stream bed. The stream pours around the rocks, separating into three or four different thin sheets of water that join back together further downstream.

Usually, the water level is low enough that I can leap over each branch with ease. Sometimes it's not, and I must make my way further down, to an easier crossing point.

Today, I crossed over all but the last rivulet, the one which is the deepest and the fastest. It creates a little curl of water that spills into white foam. Bubbles of foam float on down, gliding over the rippling water.

The sound of the water falling was so lovely that I paused, and then knelt down with my hands dangling easily between my knees. I leaned forward a little, listening and watching the water run. It was hot, and I had tied my fleece around my waist; I could feel the sun on the back of my white shirt.

The endless quiet gurgle of water brought back an old memory. Until I was three, I lived with my parents in upstate New York- farming country. My grandfather had a dairy farm, and my father helped him run it.

Up the valley was a sheep farm owned by the church I grew up in, and church services were held there on Sunday mornings.

Above the church building was a pond banked by a stone wall, and water from the pond trickled endlessly and brightly down the moss-green stones.

It was a lovely, deep and soothing sound. The water itself was a murky and mysterious golden green. Light glinted off the fall of water.

The grass was a rich, deep green and over shading the pond were trees- were they willow trees? I almost think they were, but I can't remember exactly.

The water disappeared under the dirt driveway and then reappeared in another little fall and then wound its way down the hillside, toward the sheep pasture.

All this sensory memory came back to me, as I knelt by a rill of water this morning, under the hot sun. With the memory came the strong and loving presence of Christ- He was all bound up with the memory itself.

I realized that He had been with me, even then, and rejoicing in the beauty of His creation, and deeply loving me. Christ had been there, seeing that place not only as it truly was, but as it was through my own child's eyes.

He tenderly knows and understands our point of view, our memories- everything, in fact, that go into making us who we are. There is no one else that will ever know us better than He does- because only Christ can see from the heart outward.

December 19th

I just sent a camo wearing husband out the door for the second day in a row- he's on his way to the ATV trails with two of his friends.

"Deuces," he declared yesterday, before he kissed me.

I'm guessing it means awesome? He'd clearly already switched over into guy speak. I could hear them out in the front yard, whooping and hollering and revving machines.

This is because, even when tankers go to play, they still want to ride machines and make a lot of noise and possibly tear up some of the scenery.

Today, they have one of their wives with them, so they may or may not go a little easier. I would have gone, but I have a headache.

Besides, it's my only chance to have the house to myself for a little while.

Oh my goodness, it's the mornings that are the most challenging. Usually, my mornings are still and quiet. I don't even listen to music. I hardly turn on any lights but the Christmas lights; I move around in the soft glow and shadows of my clean kitchen.

I like to watch the glow of dawn in the sky- I like to watch it grow brighter and brighter, and to watch for the band of early morning sunlight as it first strikes the wall.

What Keith loves to do is to turn on the TV and watch sitcoms from the eighties. They evoke in him the same feeling that a beloved book evokes in me- a sense of coming home, of seeing old friends.

So, before sunrise, the house is filled now with canned laughter, ridiculously stupid jokes and the sound of bratty children being cute. All the electric lights are on, glaring off of surfaces.

Then, suddenly, it's 10 am and the kitchen smells like toast and eggs and bacon and the sink is full of dishes. I haven't written a thing, I can't pull together one coherent thought, I'm still in my pajamas and my coffee is getting cold.

And I don't even have kids!

I keep leaning back into Christ, feeling exhausted and stretched thin, and ridiculous. Everything washes away and I am still and loved and centered.

Then I return to my task, thankful beyond words that He is with me, walking with me day by day and not judging me for my silliness or my terrible attitude or my weakness.

This morning, in a desperate attempt to create peace, I cleaned- as if clean surfaces could equal simple quietness, or dishes put away could be as refreshing as solitude.

I read this in Christy: "One of Miss Alice's Quaker sayings was apropos: 'Such and such a person is meant to be my bundle.'"

I put the book down and thought about how few "bundles" I had in my life. Shouldn't there be more people that I was meant to love and carry?

Clearly, I'm still stuck on this idea that Christ doesn't take into account our nature, the very nature that He Himself created, when He leads us in our lives. I persist in having this idea of a universal Christian life that we must all mold ourselves to, instead of all being diverse parts of Christ's body, each with a different strength and calling, and each loving in our own way, in the way that we were created to love.

"How come I don't have many bundles?" I asked Him, feeling guilty.

Your writing is your bundle, He said.

Like, surprise, Jenny! Christ did not make you a solitary, creative writer and then expect you to develop and carry scores of personal relationships as part of your calling. Calling me to do the very thing that He equipped me for- now that would just make too much sense, clearly.

Now I'd better wrap this up and go for a nice long walk, before my number one and best bundle returns, mud splattered, blue eyed and ready for kisses, a cocktail and a thundrously loud movie, enhanced by his top of the line surround sound system.

December 17th

We survived Walmart on Super Saturday- if that doesn't speak well for a marriage, I don't know what does.

Actually, it wasn't as bad as I was expecting. I expected full on madness, with weeping and cart bashing in the isles, as small children wailed and adults grabbed up the last of whatever toy is hot on the market right now.

Surprisingly, everyone was well behaved, if a little strained around the eyes.

I got eggnog flavored creamer, and ricotta cheese to make Keith's new favorite dish- baked stuffed manicotti, and another roast and big fat steaks to grill, because the temperature was in the seventies today, and why not grill during Christmas time?

What could be more festive than standing around outside in bare feet, grilling steaks and drinking margaritas on the patio?

Hot cocoa with marshmallows, you say? Roasted chestnuts? Turkey?

Ha.

I see people walking around outside with coats and sometimes even scarves on and I wonder.

Are they doing that just out of a feeling of nostalgia for winter wear? Do they feel left out of the tailored styles of outerwear and accessories that the rest of the country get to parade around in this time of the year?

It wouldn't suprise me- I'm starting to do the same thing. Sometimes I go into the closet and just run my hand along my entire row of silk lined wool skirts and heave a sigh. Today, I wore black tights just because.


I rediscovered the 16th Psalm recently:

Keep me, O God, for I am safe in You.

I said to the Lord, “You are my Lord.
All the good things I have come from You.”

As for those in the land who belong to You,
they are the great ones in whom is all my joy.

Those who have traded for another god bring many troubles on themselves.
I will not take part in their altar gifts of blood.
And I will not take their names upon my lips.

The Lord is all that I am to receive,
and my cup.

My future is in Your hands.
The land given to me is good.
Yes, my share is beautiful to me.

I will give honor and thanks to the Lord,
Who has told me what to do.
Yes, even at night my mind teaches me.

I have placed the Lord always in front of me.
Because He is at my right hand,
I will not be moved.

And so my heart is glad.
My soul is full of joy.
My body also will rest without fear.

For You will not give me over to the grave.
And You will not allow Your Holy One
to return to dust.

You will show me the way of life.
Being with You is to be full of joy.
In Your right hand there is happiness forever.

December 16th

I feel tired this morning, despite the fact that I slept pretty well last night. I could have slept in this morning another good hour or so.

The temperature changed from chilly and damp to warm and dry pretty much overnight, and I think it's given me a head cold. I feel all stuffy and raspy.

Today is my last day of quiet, and Keith's last day of missions. After this, he will be home until after New Year's Day.

So, to recap, my high energy, gregarious, loud and loving husband will be home, all day, for weeks, with his quiet, contemplative, low energy wife. Together, all day, in one house. Oh boy.

I think good scheduling will help- I will go for a nice, long solitary walk in the mornings, and in the afternoons, I will devote several hours to hanging out with him in the garage, which is his favorite thing.

I'll go to bed early, so I can have quiet time there, which I enjoy and we will go on day trips in the truck, just to cruise around and look at the lights or stop by a car dealership, because who doesn't love to just stop in a car dealership and outwit the salesperson?

Keith's back is doing much better. The MRI showed that he has a bulging disk in his lower back, but that it's going back into place and should continue to heal so long as he takes good care of himself. He's managing that better than he normally would.

"You're not so young anymore," the doctor told him.

Still, I have the strong feeling that even this will not prevent him from going out on the trails on his ATV this vacation.

Last night, I was reading Christy, by Catherine Marshall. I love that book. I came across this passage:

"Then the unexpected happened. Another series of thoughts- quite apart from the fear ones- swirled upwards as though out of some deep cavern from the depths of a sea of churning memories and ideas. The new ideas surfaced into my conscious mind with peculiar clarity. And whereas the panic had been so chaotic these were orderly thoughts, presented to me with slow deliberation...

It was not a case of Miss Alice adjusting. You know that. You have watched her listening and waiting. Get your attention of the problem- yes, even off your stomach- and look at Me. I am greater than any problem. Light follows light. You are about to discover this for yourself.

Then my own mind took over again. Had I prayed? No, not consciously. Then how odd that I no longer felt alone in my difficulty. And this intimate understanding of all that had been troubling me, with humor thrown in. The humor was the last thing I expected."

I sat in bed and felt deeply comforted. "Thank you, Father," I said. "I love how You provide for me from all over, from many directions."

Sometimes, I just feel so strange, and reading that passage took off the sharp edge of my strangeness. The author, Catherine Marshall, must have experienced God speaking in the same way I have, or else she could not have described it so well- even to the humor of God, which is so unexpected, though of course, we do have the platypus to give us some hint of it.

I loved this passage as well:

"That longin' inside me burned and ached and cried for something, I didn't rightly know what. Then one day- seems like 'twas only a week ago- I was goin' acrost the foot log bridge, along that path windin' through the thickets and the blackberry brambles. And at one certain point- I could show you where- why, He met me. Somethin' happened to me there. It was simple-like, but clear as mornin' light. I says to Him, 'Lord,' I says, 'I don't rightly know whether I'm gonna live or die, but it don't make no differ. From here on, my life belongs to You.'

"And it did, too, for a fact. From that day I could feel His love a-feedin' my starvin', thirstin' soul. And the more I tried given' His love away to my young'uns and my man and the neighbor-folks, the more love He gave back to me. Reminded me of openin' up a spring: first, a muddy trickle. Then a leetle stream, gettin' stronger and clearer with every day that passed."

I’m getting better at not simply pushing away what He says to me. It’s odd, because at first glance, a person would think that saying to God- “That can’t be for me” or “I’m not good enough” or “that’s too much riches or love or what have you…”- you’d think, saying those things would be humility in action.

But it’s not, I'm learning. It’s a weird form of pride. It’s a way for me to stay in control- it’s like having a stiff neck. In essence, I’m saying to God, “I’d rather rightfully suffer alone than surrender to You and the free gift I have not earned.”

It’s like I'm saying to God, “My judgment in this matter is better than Yours.”

Clearly, Jesus does not want us to suffer alone. Clearly, He does not want us to get what we rightfully deserve. He wants to lavishly bestow His gifts of love and grace and mercy and comfort on our lives; He wants us to say, "Yes, Lord. I accept."

Every time I say those words, I feel a profound sense of humility, because I know with certainty that I don't deserve with He's giving me, but still I yield to His gift. And then I feel an upwelling of love and gratitude and wonder.

So, a couple nights ago, when I was reading along in Isaiah and came across this: "I, even I, am He who comforts you." (Isaiah 51:12) I did not discard it or push it aside or say that it could not be meant for me, when I clearly knew that it was. I surrendered to it, though it was so huge and so astonishing to me.

This kind of response pleases Him very much, I can't help but notice.

Now I'm going to go and give the house a good cleaning. I might as well go orderly and polished into the coming chaos.

December 15th

I found this on Facebook and thought it was just lovely:

The tree of life my soul hath seen,
Laden with fruit and always green:
The trees of nature fruitless be
Compared with Christ the apple tree.

His beauty doth all things excel:
By faith I know, but ne'er can tell
The glory which I now can see
In Jesus Christ the apple tree.

For happiness I long have sought,
And pleasure dearly I have bought:
I missed of all; but now I see
'Tis found in Christ the apple tree.

I'm weary with my former toil,
Here I will sit and rest awhile:
Under the shadow I will be,
Of Jesus Christ the apple tree.

This fruit doth make my soul to thrive,
It keeps my dying faith alive;
Which makes my soul in haste to be
With Jesus Christ the apple tree.

-Anonymous
"Divine Hymns or Spiritual Songs" 1784

December 14th

It's been occurring to me lately how many things that I said I believed as a Christian, but as it turns out, wasn't actually taking very seriously.

It seems to me that we've been given some of the most mind blowing promises and identities the world could ever imagine, but speaking for myself, instead of walking around dizzy with the glory of it, I neatly packaged it all up and put it away for later.

For some reason, I used to have this mindset that God wanted us to "muddle through somehow", as the song goes. As though, essentially, it's just us chickens down here.

I persisted in only reading the Bible, as though I didn't have the Author standing right beside me, available for questions and an actual, living, growing, personal relationship.

If a single verse "spoke" to me, I was all excited- I felt like God spoke to me. I did not expect or look for anything more from Him than that.

I had heard, so much, all my life about how Jesus is a personal Savior, and about my Christian walk, and how Jesus is my friend, etc.

Was I taking that seriously before? No, not really- or only sporadically. It turns out I was believing more in the slogans than the living Truth behind it.

I didn't really believe Jesus was my friend. Who was I kidding? He was my Judge! A judge can't be a friend. God can't be a friend- that's craziness.

I had difficulty with this idea of relationship because, as it turns out, He's not so much standing beside us, as He is in our hearts. And I distrusted and was suspicious of my heart.

When I shut my heart down- out of fear or shame or distrust, or all three- I closed off the channel by which Jesus most often speaks, and as I was not in open communication, it was hard to be in a growing and authentic relationship.

What complicated things further is that I was so worried about getting some thing wrong, as though that would be devastating, as opposed to merely inevitable. Of course I got stuff wrong! That's not the point. I think the point is to allow Christ to grow us deeper into Him and into knowledge of Him.

I used to focus on everything in the Bible that told me what to do. I liked that. That seemed pretty cut and dry to me- fairly easy to understand. I liked being told what to do and then trying like heck to do it, even if it left me exhausted, burned out and lonely.

The parts of the Bible that talked about who I was in Christ- I largely skipped over those. I wasn't quite sure what to do with all that. I packaged it away; I put it into the back of my mind and gave up considering it.

And so, for a long time, I ended up glossing over or missing the heart of the matter.

Now that I've opened up my heart, everything else has opened up as well- my ability to understand, slowly, more and more of what Jesus said in the Scriptures, my ability to love others, my ability to love myself and my ability to love and hear Him.

I guess, when all is said and done, I would rather be dizzy with the reality of Him, than safe in my neatly packaged box.

December 13th

This is so lovely.

December 13th

Last night around midnight, a weary and bone sore soldier climbed into bed with me and caught about four hours sleep. Then his alarm rang and he had to drag himself out of bed and back into the damp and chilly field.

He's asleep on the couch at the moment, in a warm pile of afghan and pillows. He had an MRI earlier, to try and see what is wrong with his back.

I suspect a great deal is wrong with his back. The doctor should call us later today and tell us the result of the scans.

It's possible that the damage will be so great that the Army will officially move Keith to another line of work- one that does not require so much demanding physical activity. Tankers end up ruining their bodies very quickly, because of the nature of their work.

So we are waiting on that whole situation, and I do not think we will be doing any travelling this Christmas season, because of his back pain. We will have a quiet little Christmas at home. I think it will be the first time we won't be travelling anywhere.

I have a small pot roast that I will prepare for dinner and I have dug trusty old Jenkins out from the back room and set him up on the table.

Keith wants head rests and arm covers for the couches, so I will attempt to make some out of pieces of soft, thin leather. I suspect that I will end up ruining quite a few needles in the process. I really am not a crafty person, but I will try.

Blogging has been taking up all my emotional energy, so I haven't been able to work too much on my other writing lately, but yesterday I pulled out my story and crafted the second and third chapters.

I have no idea where I'm going with that story. Actually, that's not entirely true. I'm beginning to see a glimpse of how it could all come together. The emotional work it will require is intimidating.

I also reread a bit of Torii. I saw how vibrant and beautifully detailed that story is- maybe a little too much detail. My distance from the story, due to the length of time since I've last read it, enabled me to edit away a lot of the superfluous description.

I see a lot of things differently lately. Lately, I read one of the many times where Jesus says, If you have seen Me, you have seen the Father. (John 14:9)

And I just had to stop, right there, and consider exactly what He was saying. As I contemplated it, it was as if an old and massive edifice -already cracked and damaged- began to crumble and fall completely away to dust.

My old image of God the Father just fell away. I didn't like it at first. It was a little terrifying. I suddenly saw God differently.

He's not some crabby old patriarch, up there, with a long white beard and a lightening fork in one hand- thunderous, displeased and threatening.

If Jesus revealed God to us, and that is what Jesus said He did, then we have this astonishing and almost unbelievable translation of who God is.

This is God- our God is self sacrificing. He is humble. He is moved to tears at our pain and grief. His longing is to heal and restore and to teach and to guide. He takes joy in creating, in pleasure, in life. He is love itself.

He is literally slow to get angry. He stores His anger up for long, long periods of time. He prefers to be turned aside from His anger, even when His cause is just and right, as it always is. God is merciful, takes no pleasure in any one's death, and is unwilling that any should perish.

God could crush us- instead, He pleads with us. We rightfully earned death, but He died for us. We turn our backs to Him- He goes on speaking to us. The sight of His glory would kill us- He put on humanity, and walked among us.

God was born into poverty and hard labor. He got tired and bruised and worn out. He got sweaty and dirty and crushed in the crowds. People jeered at Him. No one understood Him. People hated Him. His own family thought He was mad.

His closest friends betrayed Him, denied Him and couldn't stay awake even to keep watch with Him. His own people shouted out for Him to be put to death.

He died the most humiliating and painful death possible. People mocked and jeered at God even as He hung on the cross, dying.

When He rose again, He appeared first to a formerly demon possessed woman. He told Thomas to actually put his hands in the scars. He broke bread and cooked us breakfast.

That's God. That's what our God looks like.

December 12th

Keith's training mission began yesterday, and all day long the cannon fire from the tanks shook the house.

In the morning, before he had to leave, he paced around the house with restless energy, continually checking his pockets and ticking items off his mental checklist for the hundredth time.

I later learned that, while in his hurry in the shower, instead of grabbing his shampoo, he accidentally picked up my Scarlet Blossom Fine Fragrance Elixir body wash.

He didn't realize this until he had lathered his head and began to get a sinking feeling at the growing cloud of delicious scent.

"Oh crap," he muttered to himself.

This must have been why he smelled so good when he kissed me goodbye at the door.

"Can I stay home with you?" he asked, beseechingly, on the doorstep.

"Go tear some crap up," I told him cheerfully. "You know you love it."

No doubt the delicate scent of scarlet blossoms quickly gave way to the smell of sweat, grease and cannon fire, against which I'm sure the elixir couldn't stand a chance.

I got to stay home and blog, and mend some items and watch HGTV and generally enjoy the peace and quiet- except for when the windowpanes rattled.

This morning, I saw this on my dad's facebook page, and loved it:

This is the irrational season
When love blooms bright and wild,
Had Mary been filled with reason
There'd have been no room for the child.

"After Annunciation"
-Madeleine L'Engle

So, a couple days ago, I was rereading John, but I read a part of John that I haven't in a while, basically the second part of that book.
I noticed this, when Jesus says:

If you keep My commandments [if you continue to obey My instructions], you will abide in My love and live on in it, just as I have obeyed My Father's commandments and live on in His love.
John 15:10

It seems that there is a difference between having God's love and abiding in God's love. We all have God's love- because the Father loved the world while we were yet sinners. So, we have His love.

But we can also make ourselves at home in it. In order to make ourselves at home in it, we must keep His commandments, which is to love Him and our neighbors.

So, it seems that in order to dwell in love, we must give out love.

Isn't that interesting?

I noticed something else, too. When Jesus said that one of the disciples would betray Him, the other disciples looked at one another and discussed among themselves who it could be.

Jesus was right there- in the flesh, in person, right there! They could see Him and hear Him and touch Him.

And yet their first instinct was to ask one another. Why?

That's not the first time, either. The disciples are often discussing among themselves what He could have meant by something He said. They seem to be frequently huddling.

Why? Jesus was right there. They could have asked Him anything!

Why wouldn't they just have asked Him?

Actually, come to think of it, it was when they felt they might have done something wrong that they tended to huddle.

Like, when they forgot the bread, and Jesus was warning them about the yeast of the Pharisees. They felt guilty about forgetting the bread, so instead of asking Jesus what He meant, they huddled together and worried.

Or when they were arguing along the road about who would be greatest. When He asked them about it, they clammed up. They didn't want to ask Him straight out.

Here's another thing I've been thinking about- in the parable of the prodigal son, at the end, the father says to his oldest son, "My son, you have always been with me and everything that I have is yours."

I can't help but think that if the eldest son had wanted to, he could have put his hoe down, gone in search of his father, and said, "Dad! I love you! I miss you! I'm working my butt off out there in the field and you know what? I just want to spend some time with you. Let's kill the fatted calf! Let's go fishing! Let's hang together."

I bet the father would have been overjoyed and opened his arms to his oldest son.

And they would have gone fishing, or something.

December 11th

So, this is normally a blog that would remain private.


Yesterday evening, I was just at the end of my rope, feeling frayed and worn thin and miserable. I had raging headache and I was exhausted.

I went to bed early. Even then, I felt the presence of Christ close by me.

"Don't talk to me!" I snapped at Him in the quiet room. "I can't take any more of Your mercy!"

It makes me laugh now, but at the time, I was serious. Sometimes His loving kindness just drives me nuts. I don't understand why He doesn't punish me, why He doesn't get angry at me, why He doesn't just shout at me.

"Why is it that my behavior doesn't drive You away?" I asked, desperate. "How can You stand to be around me when I'm like this? I'm not good enough, my behavior isn't good enough for You."

It wasn't because of your good behavior that I came to you in the first place, He said.

Jesus reminded me, all over again, that it is His part to give and my part is to receive, to surrender, to yield. I can't stand apart from Him to fix myself- I must yield to Him and let Him do that work. How many times must I relearn this lesson? I suspect my entire life.

When He calls to me, I remember that He wept over Jerusalem, so great was His longing to gather her children up under His wings, and so great was His sorrow that they would have no part of it and what would soon befall them.

All day long, He says, I have held out My hands to a stubborn people.

When I think of these things, I forget about my unworthy state. I forget my failures. I remember only that Jesus is meek and lowly of heart, and will not compel anyone to come- He invites. He calls to me with open arms, and I must go to Him, because I belong to Him. I am His.

I surrendered, as the hymn says:

Just as I am - Thy love unknown
Has broken every barrier down;
Now to be Thine, yea, Thine alone,
-O Lamb of God, I come!
Charlotte Elliott, 1835

I went to bed and read some of the psalms, but I was so tired, eventually I had to just put the book down and rest in His healing love.

I was full of peace, within and without. It was as though I was being warmly sheltered under the shadow of His wings, close to His heart. All my wounds and all the tightly wound up places inside me eased into the warmth of His love.

We have a Christmas tree in the bedroom, a green one with colored lights, and when I put out the lamp, the room was full of the lovely, peach colored glow from the blended reds and yellows, greens and blues that pooled together in the darkness.

Lynn was curled up at my feet, a quiet, breathing lump of warm fur, and through the walls, I could hear the quiet murmur of the movie Keith was watching in the living room, where he was happily calling and texting everyone he knew with his new iphone.

Into this peace stole a fear that had been growing in me for some time. This is the fear that one day, I'll wake up and find His presence gone.

I don't know how I could survive if I lost that deep and living connection that I have with Him, in my spirit, now that I have known it.

I decided to give voice to this fear, instead of wrestling with it alone. I felt His strong and loving desire that I should pour out my fear to Him, to release it to Him. So I did.

"I'm scared You'll leave me!" I cried. "I'm scared one day You'll take Your presence away from me. I can't live without You. I won't be able to bear it."

I am your life, He said. You have My Spirit. I cannot take Myself away from you- if I did, you would die, and I have promised you that in Me, you would find eternal life. You cannot lose Me; your life is bound up with Mine.

I was so deeply resting in Him that the fact that He answered me so clearly, and with such detail, did not amaze me as much as it might otherwise have done.

"But what about David!" I protested. "You took Your presence away from him, and he had Your Spirit poured out on him."

You are born of My Spirit, Jesus said.

As He said this, in my mind I saw a fleeting image of the three crosses standing silhouetted against the sky, on the top of the hill- I saw the empty tomb. They weren't unfamiliar images to me- He brought them back to my remembrance.

It took me a while to digest what He was saying, even though this was not new information- I'd understood these concepts long before, only now they were sinking deeper into me.

I kept bringing up different avenues of thought, and He kept patiently taking me back to the heart of the concept- that my spirit was born of His Holy Spirit, and therefore, I could not be severed from Him.

It all made sense to me, by that time. But still, I doubted. I still worried that one day, I would wake up, bereft of His loving presence.

I cried out in my heart, "Continually help my unbelief!"

And He caught me up in His arms and poured out His love on me like fire.

I just will never understand how He works. I don't understand His love or His grace or His mercy and compassion. But it seems safe to say that Jesus loves us to call on Him and to yeild to His love and to lean into His strength.

"How precious is Your steadfast love, O God!
The children of mankind take refuge
in the shadow of Your wings.

They feast on the abundance of Your house,
and You give them to drink
from the river of Your delights.

For with You is the fountain of life;
in Your light do we see light!"
Psalm 36:7-9

December 9th

So, last night I finished reading The Road Less Traveled, by M. Scott Peck, and as I got to the end, I kept coming across bits of it that seemed cool to share on facebook.

Then I didn't think any more about it, because it was time to get ready for bed. Keith is experiencing a lot of back pain and didn't sleep well and his training mission officially begins today, so neither he nor I got much sleep last night. Poor guy- he really needed his sleep, too.

I got up, made coffee, lit the Christmas lights and sat down at the computer. I checked up on hotmail, facebook, all that.

Then I had this niggling sensation that there was something I was supposed to do. After I paused and was still for a moment, I remembered -that book!- so I went and got it from the bedroom, where I'd left it the night before.

Back I sat at the computer, book in hand, with no idea what exactly I was supposed to share from it. I began perusing it, remembering all the cool things I'd been learning.

Something for Dad, I thought, with pleasure. This is his kind of thing, too. I found the end of the book, and the paragraph that had particularly caught my attention.

But what to post? And where? And how much? I got caught up in these details and agonized over them.

This confusion I pushed through, going with my instincts, with trust. I posted what I felt was the heart of it in a message to Dad.

And voila, it spoke to Dad! And he passed it on to one of his friends, and it spoke perfectly to him too.

I sat back and marvelled. It was a perfect example of what M. Scott Peck would call the synchronicity of grace.

After I marvelled, I got nervous. "But what if I had ignored my instinct?" I asked Christ. "Why didn't You speak to me more clearly? I could have completely ignored the whole thing. The whole experience was tenuous."

He reminded me of a lesson He has been teaching me lately- that He doesn't actually require our help.

If He was hungry, He would not tell us. His arm is not shortened in anyway, that He cannot save.

He is God; we are not. All the power and ability and plans and purpose belong to and with Him; His resources are infinite.

What He does, it seems, is that He invites us to work alongside Him. He is always inviting us to do this.

Christ is like a master gardener, at work in a huge and beautiful garden. He knows exactly what He is doing. The seasons, the weather, the growing patterns, the feeding, pruning and care of everything belong in His expert hands.

We can come alongside Him and help, right where we are in our lives, right where He planted us. Granted, we help like small children, that is to say, our help is not necessarily help, so much as it is company.

He loves to have us around, happily digging in the dirt with our small trowels, getting dirt on our hands and walking beside Him, talking and learning and watching.

Like children, we get really excited about some things and terribly disappointed about other things. Our mistakes seem crushing to us, our victories seem momentous.

Jesus, like any loving parent, shares in these griefs and joys. He kneels down beside us, puts His arm around our shoulders and empathizes. He listens and then He teaches, and on we go, together, to the next thing, our hand in His.

Our helping Him, I'm learning, is not so much good for others, or good for Him, as it is good for us. When we participate in His loving work, it helps us grow deeper in Him.

What He does with our efforts, we may never know in this lifetime. We don't get to see the big picture here.

But I'm sure it's a beautiful one.

December 8th

I love this song.

I'm ready to stop running, let myself be caught
Stop pretending, let myself be known
I'm ready to stop hiding, let myself be found
Held safe and sound, in Your loving arms

So hold me close in Your arms of mercy
Look inside, show me what You see
Touch my life, and I will stop my searching
And find that place in You, that waits for me

Whatever I held onto, I'm ready to let go
Burn my bridges, and dance within the flames
All of my wrong choices have lead my heart back home
To the love that swallows up my pain

So hold me close in Your arms of mercy
Look inside, show me what You see
Touch my life, and I will stop my searching
And find that place in You, that waits for me

I can see You've been there all along
You've reached into my recklessness
And filled me with Your song

So hold me close in Your arms of mercy
Look inside, show me what You see
Touch my life, and I will stop my searching
And find that place in You, that waits for me

December 7th

Oh my goodness, I am having such a hard time today!

I stood in the kitchen, just filled with self judgment and impatience at myself. With sarcasm and deep frustration at myself, I said to Christ, You should write Your instructions down in stone somewhere and hang it on the wall, so I can have it front of my face all the time! Otherwise, I'm never going to keep it in mind!

He touched my heart. He said, I've written everything you need to know on your heart. You carry it around with you.

I melted; my body physically drooped. Oh my goodness, how can we explain His mercy or grace? We cannot.

I keep reaching out to Him, in exhaustion and frustration, expecting to feel judgment and impatience, and what do I feel instead? Compassion, overwhelming, personal and understanding compassion.

He says to me, many are the plans of men, but it's the Lord's will that prevails. He says, it's okay to be confused and have many plans, My purpose will come shining through, because I am God and that is how I work.

His mercy and loving kindness, they last forever.

Now I'm going to go and finish cleaning the house. Darn this rain. Maybe I'll go out in the rain anyway.

December 6th

Wow, I had such a rough night last night! I've never written anything so personal or anything that made me feel so vulnerable as my last two blogs- especially yesterday's. But both, one day after the other! Phew!

I had to take two Tums, just to quiet the intense anxiety in my stomach. I knew it was going to be a bad night, just like I knew He wanted me to post the blog.

I lay in bed last night just completely drained. It's one thing to work through the lessons themselves. But then to work through them again in writing, and then to put them out in public, that is hugely emotionally demanding.

Then I worried that people might think I wasn't grateful for my life or that I was depressed or something. I worried about that all night long.

I'm really not. I love my quiet life. I love my husband and my comfortable house and my writing. I have interesting things to think about and to write about.

It's just that, everything that makes life worth living is Jesus. He is the source of everything good- He is life and love itself. Knowing Him enriches life, while at the same time pulls my heart toward Him, like an irresistible gravitational pull. It's just that I'll never be fully satisfied until I see His face.

I had to get up and call my dad. "I'm experiencing post-blog anxiety," I told him, and hearing his rich laughter was good therapy.

I talked to my mom. "I wrote about it all," I told her. "I put it all out there."

"Oh good, dear!" she exclaimed. "It was so rich and precious. I'm sure it will help someone."

Talking to them really helped. So did the Tums.
I got up at five in the morning, and logged on to facebook. Lo and behold, my uncle had posted on my wall, bless his heart, so the very first thing I read was positive feedback about my blog.

Maybe now I can go back to blogging about cooking! That was great, that was fun times...

Ha.

December 5th

On December 1st, I wrote this:

"I remembered how He had been slowly coaxing me closer and closer to Him, lovingly and faithfully..."

But I have yet to actually describe what that looked like or felt like. Now I going to tell the back story.


In late September, when I began blogging about Him, I felt Jesus near me as a loving presence that hovered near me- the same way that I would sometimes experience Him during a worship service, for example, when I would feel as though I were being drawn into His presence.

But even this was incredible to me. I could actually sense Him, in my spirit. I could feel His love for me, and hear Him as He spoke to my heart.

However, one night, I felt Him come down and actually take me in His arms. This was not a vague expression of His love- it was personal and distinct. Jesus was actually cradling my spirit in His embrace. There was no distance.

It shocked me. I pushed right away from Him. It was as though I drew a line in the spiritual sand.

I said, "You are God. Your role is to be on the throne, elevated, and to reach down with graceful but dignified condescension to me, your humble and undeserving creature. There is a distance between us! It is a proper distance! You are God! Your behavior must reflect the proper distance."


However, it's quite clear that Jesus is not interested in the human idea of proper distance, or even the human idea of propriety. He frequently breaks the rules. He eats with dirty hands, He works on the Sabbath, He makes a ruckus in the temple, He talks to shameful, Samaritan women- gasp!- and He allows repentant prostitutes to wash His feet with their hair.

He defends the pouring out of hugely valuable jars of ointment, He washes His disciple's feet, He refuses to condemn. He touches lepers with His bare hands. He says things like, many who are first shall be last and the last shall be first. He defends Mary and refuses to send her back to do women's work- she gets to stay and listen to Him.

He forgave the Roman soldiers as they were in the very act of crucifying Him; He turned the water used for ritual purification into heady wine; His death tore the temple curtain in two.

He is frequently asking us impossible things.

"How shall we feed all these people, Phillip?" Jesus asks- I can't help but think with a twinkle in His eye. Poor Phillip! I can just see him begin to stutter.

"If you want to be perfect, go and sell all your possessions and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me," Jesus says.

"But who do you say I am?" He asks.

It seems that He is always asking us that.

He wouldn't leave me alone! He kept coming up close and taking me in His arms. And when I say that, I mean, I could sense Jesus right there. When He put His hand to my face, I saw the scars. I could rest my head against His chest and all but audibly hear His heart beating, it was so distinct to me.

At first, I lay very, very still. This is what a human creature does when the Son of God is holding them in His arms. One holds very, very still.

Finally, I accepted. I wrote this on October 28th:

"I decided I would no longer defer. I said, I agree, I accept. That is how You see me, that is who I am to You. I yield to this, I won't push it or You away any longer.

"Unsurprisingly, this delighted and moved Him very much. I'm learning that we can make a significant emotional dent in God."

After that, I became more and more comfortable being that close to Jesus. I got so that I could lean back into Him and rest. I got so that I could confidently lift up my arms to Him in wonder and adoration. Each time, He never fails to catch me up close to Him and love on me.

Frequently, I feel His hand under my chin, tipping my head up to Him. This often happens when I am caught up in self condemnation. Sometimes I simply throw my arms around Him, bury my face in His robes and inhale, because He smells delicious. At night, I sleep in His arms like a kitten and during the day, He is always beside me.

Well, after a few weeks of this, I began to increasingly wonder if maybe He was getting ready to take me home. I mean, how else to explain it?

Each time I thought this, I would chide myself for being morbid and hand the thought over to Him.

Finally, I couldn't take it any more.

"Am I going to die?" I asked Him straight out, on one of our walks.

"I come that you might have life, and that more abundantly," He replied, with humor. I knew He was teasing me, just a little, because that answer could go both ways- living in Him, I have life abundantly, and because of Jesus, even if I die, I have eternal life in Him. It is an extraordinary thing to be teased by the Son of God.

"Fine! Be obtuse! I get it. But why are You like this with me? Why? Why, why, why? What am I supposed to do with all this, anyway?" I was like a small child, tugging incessantly on His sleeve.

"Because you're Mine, and I want you close to Me," He replied.

And what could I say to that?

You might reasonably suppose that with all this, I would be satisfied to bursting. So you would think, but it is not so.

On November 21st, I wrote this:

"So, last night I was suffused with sheer longing, unbearable longing, wordless long. It crippled my soul. I had no words for this longing- I just poured it out to Him. I don't know what it is I want-

"So too the [Holy] Spirit comes to our aid and bears us up in our weakness; for we do not know what prayer to offer nor how to offer it worthily as we ought, but the Spirit Himself goes to meet our supplication and pleads in our behalf with unspeakable yearnings and groanings too deep for utterance."
Romans 8:26

What more do I want from Him? Why can't I just be satisfied?"

But I couldn't be; I began to long, more and more intensely, to be with Jesus fully. I blogged about this. What I didn't blog about was how much I continued to wonder if maybe my time really was up.

Finally, Jesus helped me put it into perspective. It was the same night that He set me free from that old understanding of judgment.

That night, I was exhausted after having worked my way through that old fear and so I went to bed early to read. I read a book written by a woman who experienced a vivid vision of heaven after her body died and before the medical team resuscitated her.

I drank this book up. At midnight, while Keith quietly snored away beside me, I got near the end of the book. At that point, she knew that she had to go back to her life. She still had work left for her to do before she could go home for good.


As I read this part in my quiet, lamp lit room, I knew what Christ was saying to me. I too had work left to finish before I could go home. Gently, Jesus directly my attention toward them. I put the book down and looked over at Keith, peaceful and asleep next to me. I thought of how my love was an anchor in his life. I thought the children that might be waiting to be adopted and who would care for them if we were not a family? I thought of my writing, waking up each morning and trying to put this into words, the joy and the frustration of it, and how much more there was waiting to be written; I could feel the shapeless weight of those future words.


These three things, my husband, my future family and my writing fell softly into my thoughts, my waiting, listening spirit, and Jesus did not even have to ask me directly. I let go of my hopes that I might see Him soon and simply said, "Okay."


And I began to cry, for the second time that night. My grief at having to continue separated from Him was so great that I lay there sobbing and wiping the tears away with the back of my hand.

I kept telling myself,-but I'll always have Jesus right next to me, in my spirit! He's very close to me!

But this couldn't stop the upwelling of grief; I had to simply sob until I had poured it all out. I was sobbing in His arms. I felt light all through me and all through the room. I felt as if Heaven were about as close to me as the ceiling of the room.

I cried again in the morning, when I wrote to my mom about it. I felt fragile and full of light that entire day, as if I were a paper lamp shade. I still feel like crying every time I think about the experience.

Our work in this life is to love each other, and to deepen in our relationship with God. We love the people that are given to us to love- our work is to give ourselves away.

We give ourselves away to Christ and we give ourselves away to others, and doing so is frequently one and the same thing. In doing so, we come as close to Him as we possibly can, in this life.

And then we get to go home.

December 4th

I had quite an experience night before last. That night I read an article that talked about how Christians will be judged according to their works in life.

The article talked about how our lives are going to be tested by fire, and only gold, silver and jewels will remain- the hay, wood and straw will be burned up. Then we'll be rewarded based on how much the work of our life survives the fire.

This is not a new idea to me. I grew up learning that my life was expected to be the epitome of Christian living- pure gold. Pure gold equaled unparalleled purity- purity of theology, mind, body and spirit, and complete devotion to God.

Striving for personal purity and perfection led to gold, but cheap grace led to hay and straw. Such Christians, I learned, would have their life and their flimsy deeds burned up and they would escape with their bare lives, in shame, in front of God, Jesus and the congregation of saints.


This was a very real and horrifying prospect for me. I didn't want to disappoint Jesus, first of all. I didn't want to live a worthless, selfish life based on cheap grace. I wanted a life of gold, based on my striving for perfection, wrestling with the flesh and being God's pure and conquering Christian soldier.

When I failed spectacularly in my life, and had nothing left that seemed pure, and had to rely on grace, I resigned myself to public shame in front of Christ at the final judgment.

You might say, Jenny, why didn’t you just give up the entire teaching?

I would have to say, first, because I have a deep and lasting reverence for God, and second, because I didn’t trust myself to correct or negate the teaching- I don't have that kind of authority.

I pushed it out of the realm of anything I could change and stopped actively thinking about it. It simply stayed lodged in the back of my mind.

And that was how things stayed until the night before last, when I remembered this teaching. At first, my terror was so great that my body was physically rigid- my shoulders went up to my ears and my back was stiff.

I felt so much terror that I couldn’t hear what Jesus was saying to me, though I felt Him very close to me. I felt His love and tenderness and concern for me, but I couldn’t hear Him.

So He calmed me through music. I listened to Handel's Messiah. The profound and yet simple truth that those songs contain sunk into me and loosened the fear. I was able to start thinking more clearly, and I began to hear Him.

Jesus said, go back to the text. I really didn't want to go back to the heart of my fear. I would have preferred to continue ignoring it, but I went there, because He was with me.

This is it, in the Amplified Bible:

But if anyone builds upon the Foundation, whether it be with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw,

The work of each [one] will become [plainly, openly] known (shown for what it is); for the day [of Christ] will disclose and declare it, because it will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test and critically appraise the character and worth of the work each person has done.

If the work which any person has built on this Foundation [any product of his efforts whatever] survives [this test], he will get his reward.
I Corinthians 3:12-14

I got terrified all over again.

Jesus said, look at the whole chapter. So I did.

I won’t cut and paste the whole thing, but Paul was talking to the church at Corinth about religious factions that had opened up among them. It seemed that Paul was telling them that because they were dividing themselves according to human leaders, they were still immature Christians.

Then he went on to talk about this judgment for reward. So then I wondered why Paul wasn't more specific here. Why did he have to use a metaphor? Why couldn’t he had just said, straight out, what gold, silver and jewels represented?

I begged Jesus to show me. What was the gold? What was gold in our lives? It must be the most important thing, the best thing we could use in our walk with God.

What was the thing He wanted from us the most, wanted our lives the most to reflect, the thing that would glorify Him the best?

Jesus pulled my remembrance back to His teaching. Here‘s what He taught:

"So now I am giving you a new commandment: Love each other. Just as I have loved you, you should love each other. Your love for one another will prove to the world that you are my disciples."
John 13:34-35

“This is my commandment: Love each other in the same way I have loved you. There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”
John 15:12-13

“You didn’t choose me. I chose you. I appointed you to go and produce lasting fruit, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask for, using my name. This is my command: Love each other."
John 15:16-17

At this point, wonder and joy were beginning to fill my soul as a huge burden of fear and shame was being lifted, and I knew exactly where to look next- in the very same book that held the original passage that had so terrified me.

Paul says:
“But now let me show you a way of life that is best of all.

If I could speak all the languages of earth and of angels, but didn’t love others, I would only be a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.

If I had the gift of prophecy, and if I understood all of God’s secret plans and possessed all knowledge, and if I had such faith that I could move mountains, but didn’t love others, I would be nothing.

If I gave everything I have to the poor and even sacrificed my body, I could boast about it; but if I didn’t love others, I would have gained nothing.

Prophecy and speaking in unknown languages and special knowledge will become useless. But love will last forever! Now our knowledge is partial and incomplete, and even the gift of prophecy reveals only part of the whole picture! But when full understanding comes, these partial things will become useless.

When I was a child, I spoke and thought and reasoned as a child. But when I grew up, I put away childish things. Now we see things imperfectly as in a cloudy mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely.

Three things will last forever—faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love.
I Corinthians 12:31, 13:1-3, 8-13

A life of selfless love, built upon Christ, is what withstands the fire. Works of faith, hope and love will last forever.

Tears began to run down my face as I wept from the sheer relief and joy of it. I sat in front of the computer screen openly crying.

As I cried, Jesus whispered into my heart:

You will know the truth and the truth will set you free.

His law is love and His gospel is peace.
-O Holy Night

December 2nd

December 2nd

I found this in a psalm last night:

"The one thing I ask of the Lord—

the thing I seek most—

is to live in the house of the Lord

all the days of my life,

delighting in the Lord’s perfections

and meditating in His Temple.

For He will conceal me there when troubles come;

He will hide me in his sanctuary.

He will place me out of reach on a high rock.

Hear me as I pray, O Lord.

Be merciful and answer me!

My heart has heard You say,

“Come and talk with Me.”

And my heart responds,

“Lord, I am coming.”

Psalm 27:4-5, 7-8

December 1st

It is December- gird your loins.

I've been blogging for over four years now. That is a long time. That is a long and very public record of my interior and exterior life.

Never would I have expected to be making my spiritual journey public, either. That would never have occurred to me. Firstly, because I would have thought that journey nonexistent and secondly because there's just no way I would have thought myself capable of talking about God.

I still don't think that I am, but early on, back in October, I read this:

"Here's another way to put it: You're here to be light, bringing out the God-colors in the world. God is not a secret to be kept. We're going public with this, as public as a city on a hill. If I make you light-bearers, you don't think I'm going to hide you under a bucket, do you? I'm putting you on a light stand. Now that I've put you there on a hilltop, on a light stand—shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you'll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven."
Matthew 5:14-16, The Message

So, here I am- writing and sounding like an absolutely cah-ray-zee person.

Occasionally, I forget how I came to be so close to Him. That happened a couple nights ago. I was resting in the close and loving presence of Jesus and suddenly, I was caught up in sheer terror.

What was I doing? I wondered, all of a sudden. How dare I come so close to God? It wasn't respectful! I wasn't good enough for this sort of fellowship! How on earth did I think it was okay to just come right up to God and nestle in, as though He were my own personal security blanket?

I withdrew from Him in selfconscious horror. I didn't want to talk to Him, because I was afraid this would be one of those times when He wouldn't answer, and that would just make it worse. I could feel Jesus still right there, patient and waiting.

Gingerly, I started thinking things through, one thing at a time. I remembered how, over the past two months, He had patiently and powerfully dismantled my shame and my fear, right at their source. I remembered how He had been slowly coaxing me closer and closer to Him, lovingly and faithfully.

I thought of how He had poured out His presence on me, and how He had walked me through the entire Bible, so that I could see glimpses of Him and His Father all through it.

I thought about how He had laid aside His glory and honor, and came down and suffered to be born human. He lived a life of poverty and obedience. He suffered violence and unspeakable pain and suffering, He who knew no sin became sin, and died, and rose again. He was faithful and true, and completely finished His Father's work.

Through His suffering, He redeemed sons and daughters to God. The travail of His soul brought forth our new lives in Him.

I thought to myself, it is ridiculous to think that after all this, Christ would prefer a respectful distance from His own family, the family that He purchased with His own blood. Jesus must wish, like any parent, to hold His children close.

Then I wondered at myself, that just because of one stray thought, one moment of fear, I would push Jesus away, would give up being close to Him. Of course I'm not worthy! I never was; it was never about that. It was about His creation, His redemption and His desire for me.

I'm learning that I can either look at myself, or I can look at God. If I look at myself, I feel despair, fear and shame. If I look at God, I not only see Him, but I see the way He looks at me. He sees me as a finished work in Him.

So then, I paused, right on the edge. "And You don't want me terrified and far away from You, do You?" I asked, my voice becoming tentative at the end, aware that He was right there, listening, watching and waiting. "Do You?" I asked again, timidly.

And He came down like fire. I felt fire rush through me from the top of my head to the soles of my feet, and then the sensation faded away and I was just as I normally am, warm and cozy and wrapped up in Christ.

It is as though He is teaching me this:

"May Christ through your faith [actually] dwell (settle down, abide, make His permanent home) in your hearts! May you be rooted deep in love and founded securely on love,

That you may have the power and be strong to apprehend and grasp with all the saints [God's devoted people, the experience of that love] what is the breadth and length and height and depth [of it];

[That you may really come] to know [practically, through experience for yourselves] the love of Christ, which far surpasses mere knowledge [without experience]; that you may be filled [through all your being] unto all the fullness of God [may have the richest measure of the divine Presence, and become a body wholly filled and flooded with God Himself]!
Ephesians 3:17-19, Amplified Bible