Keith and I are both sort of restless these days. We're waiting on so much.
We're waiting on his official orders for the new job, for one thing. It has to get processed like a move to another post would be,so it could be a few weeks.
Until then, he continues in his current position. Though he hasn't said anything, I think that kind of transition period is difficult.
Realisticaly speaking, it's probably going to be a rough transition all around. Apparently, during the interview, the man told Keith that there had been some shady stuff going on in the program before, so they cleaned house.
That's why the position opened up. He also told Keith that about thirty percent of the people in the Wounded Warrior Training program were just using the system.
We encountered that once before, actually, back in Kentucky, and it burned Keith up. I can't even describe how angry that made Keith. He still talks about it.
So, this new job is going to be emotionally challenging. But I think Keith is the perfect guy for it, because he's strict, demanding and yet he'll arrive an hour early just to coach a guy who needs help, like running with him two miles every morning.
Every time he's in an army school he ends up helping everyone else with the lessons and setting up practice tests for them.
And we're waiting on the tax returns, though that could get dropped into our bank account any time. Until then, it's like a large, tangled mess blocking the view forward, toward adoption.
Wait, wait! It arrived! Oh my goodness, so exciting!
Wow. We just paid the truck off.
I think this might actually be the year we start the adoption process. It's almost hard to believe.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Monday, January 30, 2012
January 30th
I've been dwelling on this verse a lot lately:
"For He raised us from the dead along with Christ and seated us with Him in the heavenly realms because we are united with Christ Jesus."
-Ephesians 2:6
It's a lovely thing to think about and just rest in. Right now, we are just as much seated with Jesus as we are living down here.
There is no need to go searching for Jesus, because our very lives are hidden in Him, right where He is.
I've been understanding something in a new way lately, though I'm still very much thinking these things through, so I'm just sort of talking out loud.
I know that my spirit has been born again, that it is a new creation.
But, I think our souls are not. I've been learning that our souls are the mind- our reason and perception and consciousness, and the emotions.
I think this is why Paul says that we should renew our mind- because our mind and emotions hold all the pain and injuries and misconceptions of this current life, while our spirit holds the mind of Christ and is hidden in Him.
So, sometimes it's like we're holding two worldviews.
We're holding the eternal and lasting and true worldview- that we are the children of God, born in Him, that we are the righteousness of Christ and sanctified in Him and made perfect. This is the spiritual worldview.
But we're also holding the former worldview, the one of what was past- that we are imperfect, unacceptable, capable of perfecting ourselves, and the idea or hope we can find satisfaction and fulfillment in the things of this world. This is the carnal worldview.
The former worldview is no longer true, but our poor minds and emotions are kind of stuck there sometimes. This is, I think, the well spring for much of our confusion and distress in this life.
I think the more we can joyfully abandon ourselves to the eternal truths, to our true and lasting identities, the stronger that identity will become in our mind and emotions.
I think this is why guilt, shame and fear are not helpful in character development.
Our true character is in Christ. Out of unity in Him -abiding in Him- we produce the fruits of the spirit, which define our character and give glory to the Father.
There is no room or purpose for guilt, shame and fear in our unity in Christ.
I used to try and use these things like motivational tools -like Medieval monks who used to flay themselves over the shoulder with whips- but all this did was to reinforce my former identity.
They did nothing but hold me back. It was as though I were running from Jesus, instead of resting in Him.
It's very like the healing process from sexual abuse.
At a certain point, I had the choice to either embrace the emotions engendered by that abuse, thus perpetuating my identity as a victim, long after it had finished.
Or, I could release that identity and recognize that I am not there anymore, that it is not happening to me anymore and it doesn't define me, even if I still feel the echoes of the pain.
(Forgive me all my italics- the process of writing this out is causing my understanding of it to explode all over my head. Hence the italics)
Here's an even trickier part of this whole equation.
I'm leaning more and more toward the understanding that self will is of the mind.
Therefore, self will is carnal, not spiritual.
So, back in the day, when I tried with every once of my own self will to make myself acceptable to God, not only did I fail spectacularly in being acceptable, but I only managed to develop a toxic combination of shame and religious arrogance.
If I succeeded in something, I knew it was because I myself had subjected my own flesh or mind, by the strength of my self will.
Therefore, I could be self satisfied, thinking somehow that I had made myself more spiritually acceptable to God.
If I failed in something, I knew it was because I was a miserable sinner, subjected to the law of my flesh and mind and not spiritual enough to succeed.
See? I had drawn all the lines wrong, because I was drawing them myself. I couldn't reach spiritual perfection using carnal strength, and I certainly was not experiencing any intimacy, joy or life in my day to day relationship with Jesus.
When I gave up self will, and surrendered helpless into Jesus, He Himself drew all my lines. I think this may be one reason why Jesus said His strength is made perfect in weakness.
In Christ, we have faith expressed in love, and that not of ourselves, it is a gift of God, that no one may boast.
It makes me think of Paul saying this to those crazy Galatians:
"Listen! I, Paul, tell you this: If you are counting on circumcision to make you right with God, then Christ will be of no benefit to you. I’ll say it again. If you are trying to find favor with God by being circumcised, you must obey every regulation in the whole law of Moses. For if you are trying to make yourselves right with God by keeping the law, you have been cut off from Christ! You have fallen away from God’s grace.
But we who live by the Spirit eagerly wait to receive by faith the righteousness God has promised to us. For when we place our faith in Christ Jesus, there is no benefit in being circumcised or being uncircumcised. What is important is faith expressing itself in love."
-Galatians 5:2-6
It seems that it's either all free gift through the perfect and finished work of Jesus that we accept by faith expressed in love and that we live out through His Spirit, producing lovely fruits of the spirit to the glory of the Father or it's obedience to the entire law through self will, doomed to failure and leading to sin and death.
But I don't think it can be both.
"For He raised us from the dead along with Christ and seated us with Him in the heavenly realms because we are united with Christ Jesus."
-Ephesians 2:6
It's a lovely thing to think about and just rest in. Right now, we are just as much seated with Jesus as we are living down here.
There is no need to go searching for Jesus, because our very lives are hidden in Him, right where He is.
I've been understanding something in a new way lately, though I'm still very much thinking these things through, so I'm just sort of talking out loud.
I know that my spirit has been born again, that it is a new creation.
But, I think our souls are not. I've been learning that our souls are the mind- our reason and perception and consciousness, and the emotions.
I think this is why Paul says that we should renew our mind- because our mind and emotions hold all the pain and injuries and misconceptions of this current life, while our spirit holds the mind of Christ and is hidden in Him.
So, sometimes it's like we're holding two worldviews.
We're holding the eternal and lasting and true worldview- that we are the children of God, born in Him, that we are the righteousness of Christ and sanctified in Him and made perfect. This is the spiritual worldview.
But we're also holding the former worldview, the one of what was past- that we are imperfect, unacceptable, capable of perfecting ourselves, and the idea or hope we can find satisfaction and fulfillment in the things of this world. This is the carnal worldview.
The former worldview is no longer true, but our poor minds and emotions are kind of stuck there sometimes. This is, I think, the well spring for much of our confusion and distress in this life.
I think the more we can joyfully abandon ourselves to the eternal truths, to our true and lasting identities, the stronger that identity will become in our mind and emotions.
I think this is why guilt, shame and fear are not helpful in character development.
Our true character is in Christ. Out of unity in Him -abiding in Him- we produce the fruits of the spirit, which define our character and give glory to the Father.
There is no room or purpose for guilt, shame and fear in our unity in Christ.
I used to try and use these things like motivational tools -like Medieval monks who used to flay themselves over the shoulder with whips- but all this did was to reinforce my former identity.
They did nothing but hold me back. It was as though I were running from Jesus, instead of resting in Him.
It's very like the healing process from sexual abuse.
At a certain point, I had the choice to either embrace the emotions engendered by that abuse, thus perpetuating my identity as a victim, long after it had finished.
Or, I could release that identity and recognize that I am not there anymore, that it is not happening to me anymore and it doesn't define me, even if I still feel the echoes of the pain.
(Forgive me all my italics- the process of writing this out is causing my understanding of it to explode all over my head. Hence the italics)
Here's an even trickier part of this whole equation.
I'm leaning more and more toward the understanding that self will is of the mind.
Therefore, self will is carnal, not spiritual.
So, back in the day, when I tried with every once of my own self will to make myself acceptable to God, not only did I fail spectacularly in being acceptable, but I only managed to develop a toxic combination of shame and religious arrogance.
If I succeeded in something, I knew it was because I myself had subjected my own flesh or mind, by the strength of my self will.
Therefore, I could be self satisfied, thinking somehow that I had made myself more spiritually acceptable to God.
If I failed in something, I knew it was because I was a miserable sinner, subjected to the law of my flesh and mind and not spiritual enough to succeed.
See? I had drawn all the lines wrong, because I was drawing them myself. I couldn't reach spiritual perfection using carnal strength, and I certainly was not experiencing any intimacy, joy or life in my day to day relationship with Jesus.
When I gave up self will, and surrendered helpless into Jesus, He Himself drew all my lines. I think this may be one reason why Jesus said His strength is made perfect in weakness.
In Christ, we have faith expressed in love, and that not of ourselves, it is a gift of God, that no one may boast.
It makes me think of Paul saying this to those crazy Galatians:
"Listen! I, Paul, tell you this: If you are counting on circumcision to make you right with God, then Christ will be of no benefit to you. I’ll say it again. If you are trying to find favor with God by being circumcised, you must obey every regulation in the whole law of Moses. For if you are trying to make yourselves right with God by keeping the law, you have been cut off from Christ! You have fallen away from God’s grace.
But we who live by the Spirit eagerly wait to receive by faith the righteousness God has promised to us. For when we place our faith in Christ Jesus, there is no benefit in being circumcised or being uncircumcised. What is important is faith expressing itself in love."
-Galatians 5:2-6
It seems that it's either all free gift through the perfect and finished work of Jesus that we accept by faith expressed in love and that we live out through His Spirit, producing lovely fruits of the spirit to the glory of the Father or it's obedience to the entire law through self will, doomed to failure and leading to sin and death.
But I don't think it can be both.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
January 29th
I woke up this morning full of a quiet joy.
Through the doors, I could see the band of gold around the horizon; it glowed between the white blinds.
When I opened the doors, it was as though I opened my heart to Him, and Jesus took me in His loving arms and I worshiped and adored Him.
The air was all clear and crisp, but not cold and the pool was a deep, still blue. Behind me, in the warm bedroom, Keith was all bundled up in the bedding.
My little calendar joyful proclaims:
"Praise Him; sun and moon!
Praise Him, all you twinkling stars!
Praise Him, skies above!"
-Psalm 148:3-4
Amen!
Yesterday, Keith and I spent almost the entire day outside, doing yard work and then grilling steaks for dinner. I spent the whole afternoon digging up the little flower bed around the our mailbox.
Knowing that we're going to be here for two more years has changed a lot of my perspective and now I want to invest some in the landscape. I often think of the future now, and how we may be bringing our children home to this house.
The ground in the flower bed was matted with heavy growth and roots, but I took the hoe and chopped it up into chunks, shook the dirt free of the roots, and tossed the weeds aside.
I pulled up the bricks that had edged it and cleared them of dead weeds. Then I stirred up all the soil, and put the bricks back in.
I still have dirt under my fingernails, but it looks so much better now. It's all ready for some colorful annuals, when ever the right time happens to be to plant in Georgia. I have to look that up.
In the evening, I was reading The Secret Ways, by Alistair MacLean- which is an ancient, battered and beloved book of mine- and I felt Jesus draw near to me.
It's as though He settles comfortably in with me, not come to talk or to teach, but just to be near, just because He loves His children and loves to be near them.
I love this- I love for Him to come, just to spend time with me, because He loves me and I am His.
My heart can instinctively and joyfully yield to Him, because Jesus is the God of my salvation, and He took away all my shame and fear. There is nothing in life better than Him, and I have no other god beside Him.
I think that loving Him is worshiping Him, and requiring Him as one's most basic necessity is to worship Him.
There is no earning of Him, no winning Him- Jesus is a gift. He comes freely, of His own will, and at the same time, He is always there.
I think it is impossible to prepare for Him to come, as though to clean house. He knows the house is dirty; He's all through it. He loves us anyway.
Jesus loves us just as we are. He wishes us to yield everything to Him, the broken, the dirty, the exhausted, the unfinished, the impossible.
He loves our company. He loves to be around us, each of us, whatever we are doing, He cares about it.
He is interested even in what I cook for dinner. That's not to say that Jesus has a right thing or a wrong thing for me to cook; it's just that He cares.
Why would He care about such a thing? I guess that, if He already has numbered the hairs on our head, it wouldn't be too much of a stress for Him to be interested in the day's menu.
All last night, I dreamed of children. I dreamed that I was working at a day care center with my beloved mentor Annie of Happy Valley, the day school where I worked when I was much younger.
In my dream, we were hosting a parent night, along with the children, so the entire building was full of people and companionship and warmth and the excitement and voices of scores of small children.
My love and ability flowed out of me in such an easy and natural way. Even my discipline was natural and loving and without angst.
The whole dream was full of joy- the joy of children and their funny and unique ways, the joy of easy companionship with my mentor and the joy of doing something that was challenging, creative and rewarding.
When I woke, the dream lingered with me. I leaned up against the warmth of Keith and thought of the upcoming adoption.
Whenever I think of adoption, I see a little girl.
I have no idea if we'll be matched with a little girl or not- whatever Jesus has planned is fine with me, but for some reason, I always see a little girl.
My thoughts wandered into the future and I thought, what happens to her when Keith and I are gone? She won't have any other family. We have to adopt two.
Unless, I thought to myself, she has her own family- gets married and has children of her own.
But what if, I thought to myself, she doesn't have her own family? What if she remains single? She'll be all alone in the world.
She will always have Me, Jesus said, in His so familiar and dear voice.
"Jesus!" I said, joyfully. His voice changed my entire perspective. "Of course she will! She has You even now, whoever she is. She always will."
Isn't this so kind of Him? He quieted even my fear about my imaginary children with an eternal truth.
Or maybe Jesus is starting to prepare my heart with this lovely truth far ahead of time, knowing I'll need to hear it and rely on it many times in the coming years.
Through the doors, I could see the band of gold around the horizon; it glowed between the white blinds.
When I opened the doors, it was as though I opened my heart to Him, and Jesus took me in His loving arms and I worshiped and adored Him.
The air was all clear and crisp, but not cold and the pool was a deep, still blue. Behind me, in the warm bedroom, Keith was all bundled up in the bedding.
My little calendar joyful proclaims:
"Praise Him; sun and moon!
Praise Him, all you twinkling stars!
Praise Him, skies above!"
-Psalm 148:3-4
Amen!
Yesterday, Keith and I spent almost the entire day outside, doing yard work and then grilling steaks for dinner. I spent the whole afternoon digging up the little flower bed around the our mailbox.
Knowing that we're going to be here for two more years has changed a lot of my perspective and now I want to invest some in the landscape. I often think of the future now, and how we may be bringing our children home to this house.
The ground in the flower bed was matted with heavy growth and roots, but I took the hoe and chopped it up into chunks, shook the dirt free of the roots, and tossed the weeds aside.
I pulled up the bricks that had edged it and cleared them of dead weeds. Then I stirred up all the soil, and put the bricks back in.
I still have dirt under my fingernails, but it looks so much better now. It's all ready for some colorful annuals, when ever the right time happens to be to plant in Georgia. I have to look that up.
In the evening, I was reading The Secret Ways, by Alistair MacLean- which is an ancient, battered and beloved book of mine- and I felt Jesus draw near to me.
It's as though He settles comfortably in with me, not come to talk or to teach, but just to be near, just because He loves His children and loves to be near them.
I love this- I love for Him to come, just to spend time with me, because He loves me and I am His.
My heart can instinctively and joyfully yield to Him, because Jesus is the God of my salvation, and He took away all my shame and fear. There is nothing in life better than Him, and I have no other god beside Him.
I think that loving Him is worshiping Him, and requiring Him as one's most basic necessity is to worship Him.
There is no earning of Him, no winning Him- Jesus is a gift. He comes freely, of His own will, and at the same time, He is always there.
I think it is impossible to prepare for Him to come, as though to clean house. He knows the house is dirty; He's all through it. He loves us anyway.
Jesus loves us just as we are. He wishes us to yield everything to Him, the broken, the dirty, the exhausted, the unfinished, the impossible.
He loves our company. He loves to be around us, each of us, whatever we are doing, He cares about it.
He is interested even in what I cook for dinner. That's not to say that Jesus has a right thing or a wrong thing for me to cook; it's just that He cares.
Why would He care about such a thing? I guess that, if He already has numbered the hairs on our head, it wouldn't be too much of a stress for Him to be interested in the day's menu.
All last night, I dreamed of children. I dreamed that I was working at a day care center with my beloved mentor Annie of Happy Valley, the day school where I worked when I was much younger.
In my dream, we were hosting a parent night, along with the children, so the entire building was full of people and companionship and warmth and the excitement and voices of scores of small children.
My love and ability flowed out of me in such an easy and natural way. Even my discipline was natural and loving and without angst.
The whole dream was full of joy- the joy of children and their funny and unique ways, the joy of easy companionship with my mentor and the joy of doing something that was challenging, creative and rewarding.
When I woke, the dream lingered with me. I leaned up against the warmth of Keith and thought of the upcoming adoption.
Whenever I think of adoption, I see a little girl.
I have no idea if we'll be matched with a little girl or not- whatever Jesus has planned is fine with me, but for some reason, I always see a little girl.
My thoughts wandered into the future and I thought, what happens to her when Keith and I are gone? She won't have any other family. We have to adopt two.
Unless, I thought to myself, she has her own family- gets married and has children of her own.
But what if, I thought to myself, she doesn't have her own family? What if she remains single? She'll be all alone in the world.
She will always have Me, Jesus said, in His so familiar and dear voice.
"Jesus!" I said, joyfully. His voice changed my entire perspective. "Of course she will! She has You even now, whoever she is. She always will."
Isn't this so kind of Him? He quieted even my fear about my imaginary children with an eternal truth.
Or maybe Jesus is starting to prepare my heart with this lovely truth far ahead of time, knowing I'll need to hear it and rely on it many times in the coming years.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
January 28th
Gosh, life would be sweet if I could just take my own advice! Heh.
These last few days, I've felt a growing sense of peace and contentment in my life.
This passage keeps coming into my mind:
"To everything there is a season,
A time for every purpose under heaven"
-Ecclesiastes 3:1
And then I found this, and read it in many different translations. Ecclesiastes is just a tricky book, but this passage is so haunting, somehow:
"What do people really get for all their hard work? I have seen the burden God has placed on us all. Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end. So I concluded there is nothing better than to be happy and enjoy ourselves as long as we can. And people should eat and drink and enjoy the fruits of their labor, for these are gifts from God.
"And I know that whatever God does is final. Nothing can be added to it or taken from it. God’s purpose is that people should fear him. What is happening now has happened before, and what will happen in the future has happened before, because God makes the same things happen over and over again."
-Ecclesiastes 3:9-15 New Living Translation
And yet, the Father is the same that joyfully proclaims to Israel,
"Do not remember the former things,
Nor consider the things of old.
Behold, I will do a new thing,
Now it shall spring forth;
Shall you not know it?
I will even make a road in the wilderness
And rivers in the desert."
-Isaiah 43:18-21
And at the end of time, it is the Father who declares in complete triumph-
"Behold, I make all things new."
Ah, paradox. My God is a beautiful mystery and so is His book.
Keith is outside, the sleeves of his flannel shirt rolled up, washing the vehicles, as he loves to do on a sunny Saturday morning. The sudsy water washes down the driveway, reflecting the winter blue of the sky.
I am inside, listening to Van Morrison, drinking coffee and wondering about the mysteries and love and ways of God- which I probably always will do.
I can't help myself. It was how I was made, because it was the good pleasure of Jesus to make me this way. How I do love Him for it.
These last few days, I've felt a growing sense of peace and contentment in my life.
This passage keeps coming into my mind:
"To everything there is a season,
A time for every purpose under heaven"
-Ecclesiastes 3:1
And then I found this, and read it in many different translations. Ecclesiastes is just a tricky book, but this passage is so haunting, somehow:
"What do people really get for all their hard work? I have seen the burden God has placed on us all. Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end. So I concluded there is nothing better than to be happy and enjoy ourselves as long as we can. And people should eat and drink and enjoy the fruits of their labor, for these are gifts from God.
"And I know that whatever God does is final. Nothing can be added to it or taken from it. God’s purpose is that people should fear him. What is happening now has happened before, and what will happen in the future has happened before, because God makes the same things happen over and over again."
-Ecclesiastes 3:9-15 New Living Translation
And yet, the Father is the same that joyfully proclaims to Israel,
"Do not remember the former things,
Nor consider the things of old.
Behold, I will do a new thing,
Now it shall spring forth;
Shall you not know it?
I will even make a road in the wilderness
And rivers in the desert."
-Isaiah 43:18-21
And at the end of time, it is the Father who declares in complete triumph-
"Behold, I make all things new."
Ah, paradox. My God is a beautiful mystery and so is His book.
Keith is outside, the sleeves of his flannel shirt rolled up, washing the vehicles, as he loves to do on a sunny Saturday morning. The sudsy water washes down the driveway, reflecting the winter blue of the sky.
I am inside, listening to Van Morrison, drinking coffee and wondering about the mysteries and love and ways of God- which I probably always will do.
I can't help myself. It was how I was made, because it was the good pleasure of Jesus to make me this way. How I do love Him for it.
Friday, January 27, 2012
January 27th
For a friend, concerning God-
I couldn't take anyone else with me on my own journey. I had to be alone with God.
My journey did not seriously begin until I found the courage to be openly, outrageously and unapologetically furious at God.
I think our current state in life is always necessary preparation for the next one, so the more deeply we can live in this moment, the more freely and deeply we can live in the next.
Condemning self judgment serves no spiritual purpose- it's not the same thing as clarity or true humility.
I found myself, in my spiritual journey, becoming more and more childlike. This came as a relief to me.
I cried a lot.
I asked God a crap ton of questions- little ones, big ones. I just pester Him a lot.
I learned He is a patient and subtle Teacher with a great sense of humor.
Solitude and contemplation usually led to swift spiritual growth.
I found myself craving the outdoors.
Fear blocked my ability to both hear and understand the voice of God.
Shame blocked my ability to be open to the presence of God.
Being completely vulnerable and real was usually how I found my way out of this.
Out of necessity, I developed a high comfort level with paradox. Like coffee, it's an acquired taste, but after a while I couldn't go through a single day without a healthy serving of it.
Anytime I felt myself capable of greater forgiveness, I leaped at it, and experienced awesome amounts of freedom in doing so.
This was so pleasurable that I sometimes search around in my head for anyone that I possibly forgive for anything.
Anything that came up in the silence that caused me shame or discomfort, I tossed over to God like a bean bag. I just let it go into Him.
I continually confirmed in my spirit and mind that I belonged completely and unequivocally to God - to the light- and that the darkness had no weight and no voice and no traction.
If I heard something and I wasn't sure if it was the voice of God, I handed it back to Him.
I knew that if it was God, He would lovingly repeat it to me again, in another way.
If it didn't come from Him, He would make it go away.
In this way, whatever was true slowly gained weight in my spirit, while that which was not true gradually faded away.
Confusion and distress always resulted in greater understanding, so I try now to simply ride it out.
Sometimes that's easier said than done.
Publicly sharing my journey caused intense short term anxiety, but long term value.
Once I had given it away, I could see it more clearly, and was sometimes able to see beyond it.
I searched out and connected to people who were on the same journey.
I temporarily put aside anything or any voice that increased my shame or fear.
I believe now that Jesus is lovingly guiding us into the truth all our lives.
Since Jesus Himself is the truth, we are actually growing into greater intimacy with Him.
Any time we declare that we have the whole truth, we have shut down the possibility of growing more deeply and intimately into God.
The greatest thing, the everlasting thing, is selfless love.
I couldn't take anyone else with me on my own journey. I had to be alone with God.
My journey did not seriously begin until I found the courage to be openly, outrageously and unapologetically furious at God.
I think our current state in life is always necessary preparation for the next one, so the more deeply we can live in this moment, the more freely and deeply we can live in the next.
Condemning self judgment serves no spiritual purpose- it's not the same thing as clarity or true humility.
I found myself, in my spiritual journey, becoming more and more childlike. This came as a relief to me.
I cried a lot.
I asked God a crap ton of questions- little ones, big ones. I just pester Him a lot.
I learned He is a patient and subtle Teacher with a great sense of humor.
Solitude and contemplation usually led to swift spiritual growth.
I found myself craving the outdoors.
Fear blocked my ability to both hear and understand the voice of God.
Shame blocked my ability to be open to the presence of God.
Being completely vulnerable and real was usually how I found my way out of this.
Out of necessity, I developed a high comfort level with paradox. Like coffee, it's an acquired taste, but after a while I couldn't go through a single day without a healthy serving of it.
Anytime I felt myself capable of greater forgiveness, I leaped at it, and experienced awesome amounts of freedom in doing so.
This was so pleasurable that I sometimes search around in my head for anyone that I possibly forgive for anything.
Anything that came up in the silence that caused me shame or discomfort, I tossed over to God like a bean bag. I just let it go into Him.
I continually confirmed in my spirit and mind that I belonged completely and unequivocally to God - to the light- and that the darkness had no weight and no voice and no traction.
If I heard something and I wasn't sure if it was the voice of God, I handed it back to Him.
I knew that if it was God, He would lovingly repeat it to me again, in another way.
If it didn't come from Him, He would make it go away.
In this way, whatever was true slowly gained weight in my spirit, while that which was not true gradually faded away.
Confusion and distress always resulted in greater understanding, so I try now to simply ride it out.
Sometimes that's easier said than done.
Publicly sharing my journey caused intense short term anxiety, but long term value.
Once I had given it away, I could see it more clearly, and was sometimes able to see beyond it.
I searched out and connected to people who were on the same journey.
I temporarily put aside anything or any voice that increased my shame or fear.
I believe now that Jesus is lovingly guiding us into the truth all our lives.
Since Jesus Himself is the truth, we are actually growing into greater intimacy with Him.
Any time we declare that we have the whole truth, we have shut down the possibility of growing more deeply and intimately into God.
The greatest thing, the everlasting thing, is selfless love.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
January 25th
Here's some other stuff I've been thinking about lately. This is actually what I was going to blog about, but I got temporarily side tracked by that other blog.
Growing up, I absorbed a lot of teaching about the importance of remaining separate from the world. I understood this to mean that I should never participate in pop culture.
I believe this type of thinking is fairly common to the traditional Christian experience. Unfortunately, in my case, it led to fear, arrogance and isolationism.
As I hit my early twenties, I questioned and discarded this whole line of thinking.
For one thing, I was already completely tainted by the world, so there was now no more hope for me.
Guilt and despair aside, I thought then that it was an unproductive doctrine based on fear.
I wanted to engage life, not hide from it, and I hoped that this authenticity, even with its scars, would be a better witness than the false front I had hidden behind earlier in my life.
Now, however, it seems that I have come almost full circle.
"If you belonged to the world, the world would love you as its own. You do not belong to the world. I have chosen you out of the world and the world hates you," Jesus says, in John 15:19
This may explain why I have been feeling as I have- I am feeling the reality of not being a part of this world.
But I no longer believe that "the world" refers to pop culture, or any culture at all.
I think now that it's a spiritual reality, not a physical reality.
"I have been crucified with Christ," Paul declares, Galatians 2:20, "it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me."
We don't live in the world, because we live in Christ. The life of Christ in us is what sets us apart, sets us free from sin and is the promise of greater things to come.
That way, we are in the world, but not of the world.
Still, I wrestle with this. My heart doesn't lie here, but how does it serve Jesus, or others, if I spend my entire life longing for some place I'm not?
I know He said that anyone who does not hate his own life is not worthy of Him, but surely He doesn't mean that literally?
Didn't Jesus come to give us life, and that more abundantly?
I was thinking about this, and it occurred to me that maybe it's our former life that we hate- the dead in our own works and lost in the dark life.
And why wouldn't we hate that life? It's a miserable way to live.
We cast that away -we lose our life- and we follow Jesus, and He gives us His life, abundantly. Along with, surprise, a fair amount of sorrow and suffering.
When I first was reading through the gospels, I noticed how many times Jesus talked about staying awake, and watching.
At one point as I was reading along, I felt Jesus check me at one of those verses.
Staying awake is not the same as staying afraid, Jesus said.
And oh my goodness! I realized that I had been doing that. Every time He said to stay awake or to watch, I myself was reading be afraid, be very afraid!
Obedient to my own incorrect interpretation, each time I read such a verse or parable, fear and dread would fill my heart.
"Well, if it doesn't mean stay afraid, what does it mean?" I asked Jesus.
But He didn't answer me then.
Now, I am wondering if maybe staying awake is to be full of longing for Jesus while at the same time, alive in His Spirit where He has planted us- here and now, in the world.
That definitely requires us to stay awake. It is impossible to live like that on autopilot.
In fact, it's impossible to live like that at all, without Him living in us.
Growing up, I absorbed a lot of teaching about the importance of remaining separate from the world. I understood this to mean that I should never participate in pop culture.
I believe this type of thinking is fairly common to the traditional Christian experience. Unfortunately, in my case, it led to fear, arrogance and isolationism.
As I hit my early twenties, I questioned and discarded this whole line of thinking.
For one thing, I was already completely tainted by the world, so there was now no more hope for me.
Guilt and despair aside, I thought then that it was an unproductive doctrine based on fear.
I wanted to engage life, not hide from it, and I hoped that this authenticity, even with its scars, would be a better witness than the false front I had hidden behind earlier in my life.
Now, however, it seems that I have come almost full circle.
"If you belonged to the world, the world would love you as its own. You do not belong to the world. I have chosen you out of the world and the world hates you," Jesus says, in John 15:19
This may explain why I have been feeling as I have- I am feeling the reality of not being a part of this world.
But I no longer believe that "the world" refers to pop culture, or any culture at all.
I think now that it's a spiritual reality, not a physical reality.
"I have been crucified with Christ," Paul declares, Galatians 2:20, "it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me."
We don't live in the world, because we live in Christ. The life of Christ in us is what sets us apart, sets us free from sin and is the promise of greater things to come.
That way, we are in the world, but not of the world.
Still, I wrestle with this. My heart doesn't lie here, but how does it serve Jesus, or others, if I spend my entire life longing for some place I'm not?
I know He said that anyone who does not hate his own life is not worthy of Him, but surely He doesn't mean that literally?
Didn't Jesus come to give us life, and that more abundantly?
I was thinking about this, and it occurred to me that maybe it's our former life that we hate- the dead in our own works and lost in the dark life.
And why wouldn't we hate that life? It's a miserable way to live.
We cast that away -we lose our life- and we follow Jesus, and He gives us His life, abundantly. Along with, surprise, a fair amount of sorrow and suffering.
When I first was reading through the gospels, I noticed how many times Jesus talked about staying awake, and watching.
At one point as I was reading along, I felt Jesus check me at one of those verses.
Staying awake is not the same as staying afraid, Jesus said.
And oh my goodness! I realized that I had been doing that. Every time He said to stay awake or to watch, I myself was reading be afraid, be very afraid!
Obedient to my own incorrect interpretation, each time I read such a verse or parable, fear and dread would fill my heart.
"Well, if it doesn't mean stay afraid, what does it mean?" I asked Jesus.
But He didn't answer me then.
Now, I am wondering if maybe staying awake is to be full of longing for Jesus while at the same time, alive in His Spirit where He has planted us- here and now, in the world.
That definitely requires us to stay awake. It is impossible to live like that on autopilot.
In fact, it's impossible to live like that at all, without Him living in us.
January 25th
One of the blogs I read this morning described a young woman who heard the call of Jesus and went to Uganda for a mission trip, ended up staying there and adopting fourteen orphans.
Wow, did I ever feel like a slob after reading that.
Actually, it fit right in to this new pattern of condemnation I've been moving through lately.
The condemning thought is this-
If Jesus has given you all this overflowing grace and love, why are you giving back so little? Why aren't you moving to Africa and adopting over a dozen orphans? Or giving a Bible study, at the very least?
Or something. Instead of sitting here like a bump on a log, absorbing everything Jesus gives and then wanting more, and worst of all, not becoming perfect to reward Him for His considerable investment.
That's the kind of thinking that keeps coming back to me lately.
When I brought this up to Jesus this morning, feeling desperately guilty, His answer was very simple.
I did not call you to that, He said.
That should be fine, right? But it's not fine. I keep thinking I should be doing more.
What should I be doing, I ask Him. Why aren't I suffering more? Why aren't You asking more from me?
And He turns my heart first to my husband, and to my writing and to the prospect of adoption.
It's so easy to get caught up in this incredibly guilty feeling. But I've been considering the idea that most of Jesus' ministries are small, personal ministries.
They are centered around people's hearts, and homes and conversations and friendships. They are small communities of individual, unique people who were planted in each other's lives for a reason.
Every once in a while, Jesus calls one of us to something visibly extraordinary. But that doesn't seem to be very often.
Most of us seem to live perfectly ordinary lives, but just because they seem to be ordinary does not mean that Jesus is not using them in His own extraordinary way.
Jesus has clearly called me to a certain kind of ministry. Who am I to say to God that it is not enough, that His plan is not perfect, just because I am feeling guilty and envious of someone else's calling?
For some mysterious purpose of His own, Jesus has reached down into my life and lit me up like a torch. I don't know why. I may never know why in this life time.
But I must stay where He asks me to stay and do those things that He has prepared for me to do, even if I think they are very small things. Jesus leads, even on those paths of righteousness.
You know what would happen if I tried to lead? Not much, that's what. I'd burn out, become exhausted, bewildered and lost.
I may not adopt fourteen orphans from Uganda, but it's very likely that I'll adopt one or two from Columbia, if it's according to His plan.
Wow, did I ever feel like a slob after reading that.
Actually, it fit right in to this new pattern of condemnation I've been moving through lately.
The condemning thought is this-
If Jesus has given you all this overflowing grace and love, why are you giving back so little? Why aren't you moving to Africa and adopting over a dozen orphans? Or giving a Bible study, at the very least?
Or something. Instead of sitting here like a bump on a log, absorbing everything Jesus gives and then wanting more, and worst of all, not becoming perfect to reward Him for His considerable investment.
That's the kind of thinking that keeps coming back to me lately.
When I brought this up to Jesus this morning, feeling desperately guilty, His answer was very simple.
I did not call you to that, He said.
That should be fine, right? But it's not fine. I keep thinking I should be doing more.
What should I be doing, I ask Him. Why aren't I suffering more? Why aren't You asking more from me?
And He turns my heart first to my husband, and to my writing and to the prospect of adoption.
It's so easy to get caught up in this incredibly guilty feeling. But I've been considering the idea that most of Jesus' ministries are small, personal ministries.
They are centered around people's hearts, and homes and conversations and friendships. They are small communities of individual, unique people who were planted in each other's lives for a reason.
Every once in a while, Jesus calls one of us to something visibly extraordinary. But that doesn't seem to be very often.
Most of us seem to live perfectly ordinary lives, but just because they seem to be ordinary does not mean that Jesus is not using them in His own extraordinary way.
Jesus has clearly called me to a certain kind of ministry. Who am I to say to God that it is not enough, that His plan is not perfect, just because I am feeling guilty and envious of someone else's calling?
For some mysterious purpose of His own, Jesus has reached down into my life and lit me up like a torch. I don't know why. I may never know why in this life time.
But I must stay where He asks me to stay and do those things that He has prepared for me to do, even if I think they are very small things. Jesus leads, even on those paths of righteousness.
You know what would happen if I tried to lead? Not much, that's what. I'd burn out, become exhausted, bewildered and lost.
I may not adopt fourteen orphans from Uganda, but it's very likely that I'll adopt one or two from Columbia, if it's according to His plan.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
January 24th
This morning, I found this on facebook:
"Lord, I am yours,
and I must belong to no one but you.
My soul is yours,
and must live only by you.
My will is yours,
and must love only for you.
I must love you as my first cause,
since I am from you.
I must love you as my end and rest,
since I am for you.
I must love you more than my own being,
since my being subsists by you.
I must love you more than myself,
since I am all yours and all in you."
-Francis de Sales
Yesterday, Keith came home early after five hours of working in the motor pool, laying out tanks for inspection in the pouring rain. He was soaked to the skin.
We curled up together and watched some TV, had left over lasagna for dinner and went to bed early.
In the quiet night, Jesus was very close to me. It was as though I were enclosed and held up and surrounded by His love. I surrendered my tattered, torn and confused self completely to Him, and was comforted.
I have a hard time describing my experiences. They come out sounding so dry. But I can't capture them every well in words. What I'm experiencing is happening in my spirit, and it's alive with emotion and nuance.
The entire time that I am speaking with or resting in Jesus, my whole being is full of worship and adoration. This doesn't come across very well in words.
This sort of experience used to throw me for a loop, but now I welcome it with open arms. It is exactly this sort of experience that makes it impossible for me not to long for Him.
When Jesus spoke, His voice was full of love.
What did you learn today? He asked me.
This is a question He frequently asks me at the end of the day, which is interesting, because He was with me the entire time. But usually, thinking back over it helps me understand it better.
Last night, as I thought back over the day, it seemed like a wasteland of nothing but confusion and dissatisfaction.
"Not very much," I was sorry to admit. One thing occurred to me. "I learned all over again I'm an incredibly emotional person."
I made you that way, Jesus said.
"Yes, I am Your creation," I affirmed, feeling better about myself.
I thought of the walk I had taken in the rain, and the swollen river in the park, and how in the afternoon I had been dissatisfied with the television, with my writing, and hadn't wanted to read anything, even the Scriptures.
"I learned that my longing for You can make the entire day miserable," I confessed, feeling very badly about this.
Instead of judging me, Jesus sympathized with me. He reminded me that He also is waiting and He knows what it is like to feel longing. He is waiting for the time when His judgments will make all things right, and there is no more pain and no more sorrow, and He can wipe away every tear.
Even after all this time, and seeing it in the Scriptures, and experiencing it in my own life, I still have a hard time recognizing the fact that we make a huge emotional impact on God.
My mind tends to get stuck on the erroneous idea that God is impervious to us- it probably has to do with my childhood. But Jesus is not impervious to us- His heart is wide open.
But I have to learn this lesson over and over again.
Sometimes I think we run up against the same things over and over again because of those gently winding paths of righteousness. As we go around and around, we see the same pit or boulder, and maybe get discouraged.
But we aren't seeing it in the same way- we actually have a slightly higher perspective on it than the last time we came across it, only it's so subtle we may not realize it at first.
Sooner or later, it will drop from view entirely and we will forget about it. Sometimes Jesus reminds me of just such a thing- something that I have forgotten, because it has ceased to trouble me. And it fills me with wonder to see how far He has taken me.
I remembered yesterday that faith grows by being stretched out of its comfort zone. So, feeling stretched and confused can actually be a sign of impending growth. I hope so.
Weeks ago, I asked Jesus to help me balance my longing for Him with the ability to live fully in my present life, which He has given me like a gift.
Clearly, I'm still very much a work in progress in this, but I know Jesus will continue to teach me.
"Lord, I am yours,
and I must belong to no one but you.
My soul is yours,
and must live only by you.
My will is yours,
and must love only for you.
I must love you as my first cause,
since I am from you.
I must love you as my end and rest,
since I am for you.
I must love you more than my own being,
since my being subsists by you.
I must love you more than myself,
since I am all yours and all in you."
-Francis de Sales
Yesterday, Keith came home early after five hours of working in the motor pool, laying out tanks for inspection in the pouring rain. He was soaked to the skin.
We curled up together and watched some TV, had left over lasagna for dinner and went to bed early.
In the quiet night, Jesus was very close to me. It was as though I were enclosed and held up and surrounded by His love. I surrendered my tattered, torn and confused self completely to Him, and was comforted.
I have a hard time describing my experiences. They come out sounding so dry. But I can't capture them every well in words. What I'm experiencing is happening in my spirit, and it's alive with emotion and nuance.
The entire time that I am speaking with or resting in Jesus, my whole being is full of worship and adoration. This doesn't come across very well in words.
This sort of experience used to throw me for a loop, but now I welcome it with open arms. It is exactly this sort of experience that makes it impossible for me not to long for Him.
When Jesus spoke, His voice was full of love.
What did you learn today? He asked me.
This is a question He frequently asks me at the end of the day, which is interesting, because He was with me the entire time. But usually, thinking back over it helps me understand it better.
Last night, as I thought back over the day, it seemed like a wasteland of nothing but confusion and dissatisfaction.
"Not very much," I was sorry to admit. One thing occurred to me. "I learned all over again I'm an incredibly emotional person."
I made you that way, Jesus said.
"Yes, I am Your creation," I affirmed, feeling better about myself.
I thought of the walk I had taken in the rain, and the swollen river in the park, and how in the afternoon I had been dissatisfied with the television, with my writing, and hadn't wanted to read anything, even the Scriptures.
"I learned that my longing for You can make the entire day miserable," I confessed, feeling very badly about this.
Instead of judging me, Jesus sympathized with me. He reminded me that He also is waiting and He knows what it is like to feel longing. He is waiting for the time when His judgments will make all things right, and there is no more pain and no more sorrow, and He can wipe away every tear.
Even after all this time, and seeing it in the Scriptures, and experiencing it in my own life, I still have a hard time recognizing the fact that we make a huge emotional impact on God.
My mind tends to get stuck on the erroneous idea that God is impervious to us- it probably has to do with my childhood. But Jesus is not impervious to us- His heart is wide open.
But I have to learn this lesson over and over again.
Sometimes I think we run up against the same things over and over again because of those gently winding paths of righteousness. As we go around and around, we see the same pit or boulder, and maybe get discouraged.
But we aren't seeing it in the same way- we actually have a slightly higher perspective on it than the last time we came across it, only it's so subtle we may not realize it at first.
Sooner or later, it will drop from view entirely and we will forget about it. Sometimes Jesus reminds me of just such a thing- something that I have forgotten, because it has ceased to trouble me. And it fills me with wonder to see how far He has taken me.
I remembered yesterday that faith grows by being stretched out of its comfort zone. So, feeling stretched and confused can actually be a sign of impending growth. I hope so.
Weeks ago, I asked Jesus to help me balance my longing for Him with the ability to live fully in my present life, which He has given me like a gift.
Clearly, I'm still very much a work in progress in this, but I know Jesus will continue to teach me.
Monday, January 23, 2012
January 23rd
I've been walking through a lot of confusion lately. I don't care how valuable I know it to be- I don't like being in the middle.
It would be nice if I could pretend to be better than I am- more trusting, more obedient, more intelligent and quick to grasp these things, but I won't. If I did, I would be lying.
I'm still wrestling with how much of these experiences are my responsibility, for one thing. You know, I've been wrestling with this the entire time, and all I have is paradox.
A few nights ago, I was filled with such longing to know Him without this through-the-glass-darkly crap that I wept. It hurt.
"Why am I like this?" I cried out to Jesus, in desperation. "What do You want from me?"
I did not get an answer in words. What I got was a glimpse of His own suffering, through and with me.
I told Jesus yesterday that I wanted to test Him, to see if He would abandon me if I turned my back to Him, but I wasn't doing that, not because I wanted to be obedient, but because I doubted if He would keep me or not, if I did that.
So, I was being brutally honest. Which is scary, I know, but I didn't reach this level of intimacy with God by sugar coating anything.
I didn't get a clear answer, other than His love and understanding. It's not as if my thoughts ever take Him by surprise.
Later, I sat in bed and read the psalms and my thoughts wandered.
I thought about traditional Christianity and for some reason, I thought of Ann of Green Gables.
As an adult, in the later books, she seemed to personify traditional Christianity for me- having good character traits with just enough quirky personality flaws to make her interesting, having a working and almost poetic knowledge of Scriptures and a charitable feeling for the community and, above all, a respectful distance from a kind but formal God.
I was tempted by this form of Christianity. I thought to myself, absently, "That sounds like such a pleasant and undemanding way to relate to God."
And, unexpectedly, Jesus spoke to me, His voice in my spirit clear and quiet.
Not for you, Jesus said.
Allll- riiighty then. Not for me the pleasant and formal distance.
No, apparently Jesus wants us up close and personal, with all the messiness that implies, with all the unanswered questions worked through together, over time.
I'm beginning to wonder that maybe Jesus answers our questions through messy and challenging experiences as opposed to a simple answer because He wants our knowledge to be built into who we are, not just dropped into our heads.
I returned to the psalms, and I read this:
"To You, O LORD, I lift up my soul.
O my God, I trust in You;
Let me not be ashamed;
Let not my enemies triumph over me.
Indeed, let no one who waits on You be ashamed;
Let those be ashamed who deal treacherously without cause."
Psalm 25:1-3
I read that over and over again, and as I did, I felt Jesus very close to me.
The psalm continued:
"Show me Your ways, O LORD;
Teach me Your paths.
Lead me in Your truth and teach me,
For You are the God of my salvation;
On You I wait all the day."
Psalm 25:4-5
Those words just reverberated in me. I reached out for Jesus, and He bent His head toward me and I whispered those requests right into His ear.
It gave me the shivers. I knew absolutely that He would answer me, and that the growing understanding of those answers would continue to shape my life.
This morning, when I stood at the open French doors, I looked up at the sky all swirled with layer upon layer of silver gray cloud.
I thought of Jesus somewhere high above that smothering mess of atmosphere- aloof and removed.
I am not up there, Jesus told me, His voice full of tender love.
He drew my yearning heart down from the clouds and back to the present, to the messy reality, to me, where He lives.
But only for the time being- one day, this cloudy curtain will get drawn back, and I will see Him as He is. I will know fully, even as now I am fully known.
It would be nice if I could pretend to be better than I am- more trusting, more obedient, more intelligent and quick to grasp these things, but I won't. If I did, I would be lying.
I'm still wrestling with how much of these experiences are my responsibility, for one thing. You know, I've been wrestling with this the entire time, and all I have is paradox.
A few nights ago, I was filled with such longing to know Him without this through-the-glass-darkly crap that I wept. It hurt.
"Why am I like this?" I cried out to Jesus, in desperation. "What do You want from me?"
I did not get an answer in words. What I got was a glimpse of His own suffering, through and with me.
I told Jesus yesterday that I wanted to test Him, to see if He would abandon me if I turned my back to Him, but I wasn't doing that, not because I wanted to be obedient, but because I doubted if He would keep me or not, if I did that.
So, I was being brutally honest. Which is scary, I know, but I didn't reach this level of intimacy with God by sugar coating anything.
I didn't get a clear answer, other than His love and understanding. It's not as if my thoughts ever take Him by surprise.
Later, I sat in bed and read the psalms and my thoughts wandered.
I thought about traditional Christianity and for some reason, I thought of Ann of Green Gables.
As an adult, in the later books, she seemed to personify traditional Christianity for me- having good character traits with just enough quirky personality flaws to make her interesting, having a working and almost poetic knowledge of Scriptures and a charitable feeling for the community and, above all, a respectful distance from a kind but formal God.
I was tempted by this form of Christianity. I thought to myself, absently, "That sounds like such a pleasant and undemanding way to relate to God."
And, unexpectedly, Jesus spoke to me, His voice in my spirit clear and quiet.
Not for you, Jesus said.
Allll- riiighty then. Not for me the pleasant and formal distance.
No, apparently Jesus wants us up close and personal, with all the messiness that implies, with all the unanswered questions worked through together, over time.
I'm beginning to wonder that maybe Jesus answers our questions through messy and challenging experiences as opposed to a simple answer because He wants our knowledge to be built into who we are, not just dropped into our heads.
I returned to the psalms, and I read this:
"To You, O LORD, I lift up my soul.
O my God, I trust in You;
Let me not be ashamed;
Let not my enemies triumph over me.
Indeed, let no one who waits on You be ashamed;
Let those be ashamed who deal treacherously without cause."
Psalm 25:1-3
I read that over and over again, and as I did, I felt Jesus very close to me.
The psalm continued:
"Show me Your ways, O LORD;
Teach me Your paths.
Lead me in Your truth and teach me,
For You are the God of my salvation;
On You I wait all the day."
Psalm 25:4-5
Those words just reverberated in me. I reached out for Jesus, and He bent His head toward me and I whispered those requests right into His ear.
It gave me the shivers. I knew absolutely that He would answer me, and that the growing understanding of those answers would continue to shape my life.
This morning, when I stood at the open French doors, I looked up at the sky all swirled with layer upon layer of silver gray cloud.
I thought of Jesus somewhere high above that smothering mess of atmosphere- aloof and removed.
I am not up there, Jesus told me, His voice full of tender love.
He drew my yearning heart down from the clouds and back to the present, to the messy reality, to me, where He lives.
But only for the time being- one day, this cloudy curtain will get drawn back, and I will see Him as He is. I will know fully, even as now I am fully known.
Friday, January 20, 2012
January 20th
I don't have too much time to write, because Keith's father and step-mother will be arriving for a weekend visit around noon.
The house is pretty much in tip top shape, with just a few things to be tweaked into place.
Yesterday, Keith had an appointment with one of the highest ranking Non-Commissioned Officers on post, for the job opening.
He said eight other guys were there, having already made it through other interviews, and now completing for the three open slots.
The guy took all their records, disappeared and then reappeared and sent five guys home. But not Keith, because he got the job!
This is exciting stuff, because it means we're here for a solid two years and Keith gets a pay raise. So that is a huge open door for adoption.
The next step is paying off the HD, so we can use it to back the adoption loan, and free up the money that otherwise would have gone into the payments on it.
Realistically speaking, that's probably going to take about three more months.
I don't know how I feel about all this.
It's exciting, but I've been excited before, and it came to nothing. I'm trying not to look too far into the future, because that's a recipe for trouble and besides, the only clear message about the whole situation that Jesus gave me was to take everything one step at a time.
But maybe our children will actually live with us, in this very house! It's possible.
It's possible that the spare bedroom might actually become a bedroom, and that we might actually have to childproof everything, and live in a perpetual clutter of toys and have a step stool in the bathroom for when they brush their teeth, and I'll get nothing done and have to give up on my writing for... oh, ten years or so.
I wouldn't mind.
The house is pretty much in tip top shape, with just a few things to be tweaked into place.
Yesterday, Keith had an appointment with one of the highest ranking Non-Commissioned Officers on post, for the job opening.
He said eight other guys were there, having already made it through other interviews, and now completing for the three open slots.
The guy took all their records, disappeared and then reappeared and sent five guys home. But not Keith, because he got the job!
This is exciting stuff, because it means we're here for a solid two years and Keith gets a pay raise. So that is a huge open door for adoption.
The next step is paying off the HD, so we can use it to back the adoption loan, and free up the money that otherwise would have gone into the payments on it.
Realistically speaking, that's probably going to take about three more months.
I don't know how I feel about all this.
It's exciting, but I've been excited before, and it came to nothing. I'm trying not to look too far into the future, because that's a recipe for trouble and besides, the only clear message about the whole situation that Jesus gave me was to take everything one step at a time.
But maybe our children will actually live with us, in this very house! It's possible.
It's possible that the spare bedroom might actually become a bedroom, and that we might actually have to childproof everything, and live in a perpetual clutter of toys and have a step stool in the bathroom for when they brush their teeth, and I'll get nothing done and have to give up on my writing for... oh, ten years or so.
I wouldn't mind.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
January 18th
Last night Keith had guard duty, so I was on my own in the evening. I tried watching some TV, but nothing was holding my attention, so I watched a documentary on Netflix.
Afterward, I felt Jesus nudge me to spend quiet time with Him, so I willingly turned the TV off and got ready for bed.
There was a lot of stuff to go over with Jesus, from everything that had happened that day, starting with my intense feelings of discouragement and confusion in the early morning, and all the things I had learned in the late afternoon.
In bed, I sat for a few moments just talking to Jesus, before reading. It was so quiet and calm. I felt Him very close to me.
When I opened the Bible, I found I was at the first letter from Peter. As I was reading along, I got to this phrase:
"In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while, if need be, you have been grieved by various trials, that the genuineness of your faith, being much more precious than gold that perishes, though it is tested by fire, may be found to praise, honor, and glory at the revelation of Jesus Christ, whom having not seen you love."
I Peter 1:6-8a
As usual, that phrase, "Whom, having not seen, you love," just caught me like a hook and I was stuck there.
I can just see Peter's wonder and awe, all over again, at the fact that he is catching men for Jesus, just as Jesus had said he would.
And these men and women have never met Jesus in person, have never known Him or heard His voice or listened to His teaching, and yet, they love Him.
But Peter had seen Jesus, of course. Peter had been very close to Jesus, for three and a half years. Peter knew Jesus.
This thought produced in me a great longing and sorrow, which I offered up to Jesus.
And Jesus said, you know Me.
"No, I don't," I sighed. "I could never really know You. You're God."
You know Me, Jesus insisted.
I hesitated to contradict Jesus, but I couldn't understand what He meant; I didn't understand how it could be true.
"But I never knew You in person like..."
The flesh profits nothing, Jesus said, interrupting my thought.
I paused, and marveled. Jesus was quoting Himself, from the passage where He had declared that His flesh and blood were true food, and may of His disciples left Him.
He had said to them, "It is the Spirit who gives life, the flesh profits nothing. The words that I speak are spirit and they are life." (John 6:63)
Even as I was beginning to grasp what He meant, Jesus reminded me, very clearly, of what He had said to the disciples that last night:
"However, I am telling you nothing but the truth when I say it is profitable (good, expedient, advantageous) for you that I go away. Because if I do not go away, the Comforter (Counselor, Helper, Advocate, Intercessor, Strengthener, Standby) will not come to you [into close fellowship with you]; but if I go away, I will send Him to you [to be in close fellowship with you]."
John 16:7, Amplified Bible
But you know what? I still didn't fully understand. I wasn't getting it, because my mind was so stuck on wanting to know Jesus in person.
I finished reading the rest of that book, then I read some of John and then I flipped to Luke and read about the start of Jesus' ministry.
I read about how He sat in Peter's boat, teaching the multitudes on the shore. And then, afterwards, Jesus says to Peter:
"Launch out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch.” (Luke 5:4b)
Oh my goodness. That phrase just went on ringing and ringing in my head like bells. I repeated it to myself over and over again, wondering.
Launch out into the deep...
How beautiful that sounds, beautiful and almost scary. Into the deep... What deep? What catch?
By this time, I was so tired that I couldn't read anymore, so I put the Bible away and called Keith to say goodnight.
When the light was out, I lay in the dark, resting in the close and loving presence of Jesus, thinking over everything I had read.
I thought about those words Jesus had said to me: you know Me.
Finally, I got it. I realized that, compared to how I had known Him before, I did know Him very well. I knew His voice and even sometimes felt His emotion.
My relationship with Him had exploded out into all directions and into such deep places, because I was growing more and more into the profound and deep truth that Jesus lives in me and I in Him.
That is an intimate way of knowing Him- even more than knowing Him in person. Knowing Jesus this ways leads to a huge catch of understanding and growth.
Then I was filled with wonder and adoration.
It is like this:
"But as it is written:
“Eye has not seen, nor ear heard,
Nor have entered into the heart of man
The things which God has prepared for those who love Him.”
But God has revealed them to us through His Spirit. For the Spirit searches all things, yes, the deep things of God. For what man knows the things of a man except the spirit of the man which is in him? Even so no one knows the things of God except the Spirit of God. Now we have received, not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, that we might know the things that have been freely given to us by God."
I Corinthians 2:10-12
Afterward, I felt Jesus nudge me to spend quiet time with Him, so I willingly turned the TV off and got ready for bed.
There was a lot of stuff to go over with Jesus, from everything that had happened that day, starting with my intense feelings of discouragement and confusion in the early morning, and all the things I had learned in the late afternoon.
In bed, I sat for a few moments just talking to Jesus, before reading. It was so quiet and calm. I felt Him very close to me.
When I opened the Bible, I found I was at the first letter from Peter. As I was reading along, I got to this phrase:
"In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while, if need be, you have been grieved by various trials, that the genuineness of your faith, being much more precious than gold that perishes, though it is tested by fire, may be found to praise, honor, and glory at the revelation of Jesus Christ, whom having not seen you love."
I Peter 1:6-8a
As usual, that phrase, "Whom, having not seen, you love," just caught me like a hook and I was stuck there.
I can just see Peter's wonder and awe, all over again, at the fact that he is catching men for Jesus, just as Jesus had said he would.
And these men and women have never met Jesus in person, have never known Him or heard His voice or listened to His teaching, and yet, they love Him.
But Peter had seen Jesus, of course. Peter had been very close to Jesus, for three and a half years. Peter knew Jesus.
This thought produced in me a great longing and sorrow, which I offered up to Jesus.
And Jesus said, you know Me.
"No, I don't," I sighed. "I could never really know You. You're God."
You know Me, Jesus insisted.
I hesitated to contradict Jesus, but I couldn't understand what He meant; I didn't understand how it could be true.
"But I never knew You in person like..."
The flesh profits nothing, Jesus said, interrupting my thought.
I paused, and marveled. Jesus was quoting Himself, from the passage where He had declared that His flesh and blood were true food, and may of His disciples left Him.
He had said to them, "It is the Spirit who gives life, the flesh profits nothing. The words that I speak are spirit and they are life." (John 6:63)
Even as I was beginning to grasp what He meant, Jesus reminded me, very clearly, of what He had said to the disciples that last night:
"However, I am telling you nothing but the truth when I say it is profitable (good, expedient, advantageous) for you that I go away. Because if I do not go away, the Comforter (Counselor, Helper, Advocate, Intercessor, Strengthener, Standby) will not come to you [into close fellowship with you]; but if I go away, I will send Him to you [to be in close fellowship with you]."
John 16:7, Amplified Bible
But you know what? I still didn't fully understand. I wasn't getting it, because my mind was so stuck on wanting to know Jesus in person.
I finished reading the rest of that book, then I read some of John and then I flipped to Luke and read about the start of Jesus' ministry.
I read about how He sat in Peter's boat, teaching the multitudes on the shore. And then, afterwards, Jesus says to Peter:
"Launch out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch.” (Luke 5:4b)
Oh my goodness. That phrase just went on ringing and ringing in my head like bells. I repeated it to myself over and over again, wondering.
Launch out into the deep...
How beautiful that sounds, beautiful and almost scary. Into the deep... What deep? What catch?
By this time, I was so tired that I couldn't read anymore, so I put the Bible away and called Keith to say goodnight.
When the light was out, I lay in the dark, resting in the close and loving presence of Jesus, thinking over everything I had read.
I thought about those words Jesus had said to me: you know Me.
Finally, I got it. I realized that, compared to how I had known Him before, I did know Him very well. I knew His voice and even sometimes felt His emotion.
My relationship with Him had exploded out into all directions and into such deep places, because I was growing more and more into the profound and deep truth that Jesus lives in me and I in Him.
That is an intimate way of knowing Him- even more than knowing Him in person. Knowing Jesus this ways leads to a huge catch of understanding and growth.
Then I was filled with wonder and adoration.
It is like this:
"But as it is written:
“Eye has not seen, nor ear heard,
Nor have entered into the heart of man
The things which God has prepared for those who love Him.”
But God has revealed them to us through His Spirit. For the Spirit searches all things, yes, the deep things of God. For what man knows the things of a man except the spirit of the man which is in him? Even so no one knows the things of God except the Spirit of God. Now we have received, not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, that we might know the things that have been freely given to us by God."
I Corinthians 2:10-12
Monday, January 16, 2012
January 16th
My dad's facebook page is just such a reservoir of interesting and great things! This morning, I found this:
"Faith has nothing to do with our ability to concentrate on God for at least five uninterrupted minutes; faith is my glorious awakening to the fact that my Maker is mindful of me! He cannot get me out of his mind!"
Francois Du Toit.
Oh, so beautifully true! Jesus has more than once assured me that His desire for me is far greater than my desire for Him.
Sometimes I worry that if I stop "being" a certain way, I'll stop experiencing His love and intimacy and He reminds me that it was He that came to me, not the other way around.
He did not come because I was "being" any certain kind of way, but simply because I was His and He has a plan for my life beyond what I can grasp or understand right now.
"You didn't choose me, remember; I chose you, and put you in the world to produce fruit, fruit that won't spoil," He says. (John 15:16, The Message)
It's such a paradox, isn't? I've often wondered if intimacy with God develops in one a high comfort level with paradox. I have certainly found it to be true, myself.
Here's another thing I've been thinking about: I've been wondering in a new way if every stage of our lives is necessary to reach the next one, so that there's no point in judging ourselves for being at a certain place or at a certain level of understanding.
One simply cannot reach the end without going through the middle, and so long as we are in the world, we are in the middle.
It makes me think of this:
"Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you."
I Thessalonians 5:16-18
I don't like being in the middle; it's very uncomfortable. But I think that it's in the middle where all the riches are; in the middle of depression, or suffering, or limitation, or confusion, or anger.
Trying to skip over those things means that we never really reach the end; we just put everything on hold- trying very hard to live in denial for as long as possible.
I did that for so, so long. I put off my anger at God and asking and facing the tough questions.
But you know what? I wasn't ready then.
I had to go through the middle. I couldn't be stronger or more wise than I truly was; I still can't be.
But I can trust my Good Shepherd. I can even rejoice and give thanks for where I am in my life. I can do this because I can completely trust my Savior.
In each moment, I am in open and living communication with Jesus, even in my pain and sorrow and suffering and confusion, I am open to Him.
I can trust that Jesus will never let me out of His hand, that He will never stop His transforming work in my life and that He will get me where I need to go.
It's like this:
"The Lord is my Shepherd. I will have everything I need.
He lets me rest in fields of green grass. He leads me beside the quiet waters.
He makes me strong again. He leads me in the way of living right with Himself which brings honor to His name.
Yes, even if I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will not be afraid of anything, because You are with me.
You have a walking stick with which to guide and one with which to help. These comfort me.
You are making a table of food ready for me in front of those who hate me.
You have poured oil on my head.
I have everything I need.
For sure, You will give me goodness and loving-kindness all the days of my life.
Then I will live with You in Your house forever."
-Psalm 23, New Life Version
"Faith has nothing to do with our ability to concentrate on God for at least five uninterrupted minutes; faith is my glorious awakening to the fact that my Maker is mindful of me! He cannot get me out of his mind!"
Francois Du Toit.
Oh, so beautifully true! Jesus has more than once assured me that His desire for me is far greater than my desire for Him.
Sometimes I worry that if I stop "being" a certain way, I'll stop experiencing His love and intimacy and He reminds me that it was He that came to me, not the other way around.
He did not come because I was "being" any certain kind of way, but simply because I was His and He has a plan for my life beyond what I can grasp or understand right now.
"You didn't choose me, remember; I chose you, and put you in the world to produce fruit, fruit that won't spoil," He says. (John 15:16, The Message)
It's such a paradox, isn't? I've often wondered if intimacy with God develops in one a high comfort level with paradox. I have certainly found it to be true, myself.
Here's another thing I've been thinking about: I've been wondering in a new way if every stage of our lives is necessary to reach the next one, so that there's no point in judging ourselves for being at a certain place or at a certain level of understanding.
One simply cannot reach the end without going through the middle, and so long as we are in the world, we are in the middle.
It makes me think of this:
"Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you."
I Thessalonians 5:16-18
I don't like being in the middle; it's very uncomfortable. But I think that it's in the middle where all the riches are; in the middle of depression, or suffering, or limitation, or confusion, or anger.
Trying to skip over those things means that we never really reach the end; we just put everything on hold- trying very hard to live in denial for as long as possible.
I did that for so, so long. I put off my anger at God and asking and facing the tough questions.
But you know what? I wasn't ready then.
I had to go through the middle. I couldn't be stronger or more wise than I truly was; I still can't be.
But I can trust my Good Shepherd. I can even rejoice and give thanks for where I am in my life. I can do this because I can completely trust my Savior.
In each moment, I am in open and living communication with Jesus, even in my pain and sorrow and suffering and confusion, I am open to Him.
I can trust that Jesus will never let me out of His hand, that He will never stop His transforming work in my life and that He will get me where I need to go.
It's like this:
"The Lord is my Shepherd. I will have everything I need.
He lets me rest in fields of green grass. He leads me beside the quiet waters.
He makes me strong again. He leads me in the way of living right with Himself which brings honor to His name.
Yes, even if I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will not be afraid of anything, because You are with me.
You have a walking stick with which to guide and one with which to help. These comfort me.
You are making a table of food ready for me in front of those who hate me.
You have poured oil on my head.
I have everything I need.
For sure, You will give me goodness and loving-kindness all the days of my life.
Then I will live with You in Your house forever."
-Psalm 23, New Life Version
Sunday, January 15, 2012
January 15th
Found this on my dad's facebook page this morning:
From the cowardice that shrinks from new truths,
from the laziness that is content with half truths,
and from the arrogance that thinks it knows all truth,
O God of truth, deliver us.
By Rabbi Mordechai M. Kaplan
Amen!
I wish always to be just His child, sitting close to Jesus, and learning and listening- nothing more and nothing less.
From the cowardice that shrinks from new truths,
from the laziness that is content with half truths,
and from the arrogance that thinks it knows all truth,
O God of truth, deliver us.
By Rabbi Mordechai M. Kaplan
Amen!
I wish always to be just His child, sitting close to Jesus, and learning and listening- nothing more and nothing less.
Friday, January 13, 2012
January 13th
Have you ever noticed how Jesus is sometimes making as though He is going to pass on by?
I noticed this, this afternoon as I was reading along in Luke.
"Then they drew near to the village where they were going, and He indicated that He would have gone farther.
"But they constrained Him, saying, “Abide with us, for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent.”
"And He went in to stay with them."
-Luke 24:28-29
Sometimes, it's as though He's asking how much of Him one wants.
Are we satisfied that we've had a lovely time walking along with Him or will we invite Him in further? In fact, not just invite, but constrain.
The same word is used in Young's Literal Translation. The definition of constrain is: to force, compel or oblige.
However, in this story, they did not know it was Jesus when they constrained Him, and as soon as they recognized Him, Jesus left them, for a time.
Still, it's interesting to think about. It makes me think of Jesus saying this:
"Then, teaching them more about prayer, He used this story: “Suppose you went to a friend’s house at midnight, wanting to borrow three loaves of bread. You say to him, ‘A friend of mine has just arrived for a visit, and I have nothing for him to eat.' And suppose he calls out from his bedroom, ‘Don’t bother me. The door is locked for the night, and my family and I are all in bed. I can’t help you.’ But I tell you this—though he won’t do it for friendship’s sake, if you keep knocking long enough, he will get up and give you whatever you need because of your shameless persistence.
“And so I tell you, keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for. Keep on seeking, and you will find. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives. Everyone who seeks, finds. And to everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.
“You fathers—if your children ask for a fish, do you give them a snake instead? Or if they ask for an egg, do you give them a scorpion? Of course not! So if you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him.”
Luke 11:5-13
I noticed this, this afternoon as I was reading along in Luke.
"Then they drew near to the village where they were going, and He indicated that He would have gone farther.
"But they constrained Him, saying, “Abide with us, for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent.”
"And He went in to stay with them."
-Luke 24:28-29
Sometimes, it's as though He's asking how much of Him one wants.
Are we satisfied that we've had a lovely time walking along with Him or will we invite Him in further? In fact, not just invite, but constrain.
The same word is used in Young's Literal Translation. The definition of constrain is: to force, compel or oblige.
However, in this story, they did not know it was Jesus when they constrained Him, and as soon as they recognized Him, Jesus left them, for a time.
Still, it's interesting to think about. It makes me think of Jesus saying this:
"Then, teaching them more about prayer, He used this story: “Suppose you went to a friend’s house at midnight, wanting to borrow three loaves of bread. You say to him, ‘A friend of mine has just arrived for a visit, and I have nothing for him to eat.' And suppose he calls out from his bedroom, ‘Don’t bother me. The door is locked for the night, and my family and I are all in bed. I can’t help you.’ But I tell you this—though he won’t do it for friendship’s sake, if you keep knocking long enough, he will get up and give you whatever you need because of your shameless persistence.
“And so I tell you, keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for. Keep on seeking, and you will find. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives. Everyone who seeks, finds. And to everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.
“You fathers—if your children ask for a fish, do you give them a snake instead? Or if they ask for an egg, do you give them a scorpion? Of course not! So if you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him.”
Luke 11:5-13
January 13th
It feels like I haven't blogged in forever!
I have been caught up in some intense hunger for reading and studying of the Bible these last few days, and as the lessons are new to me, I'm just not confident about blogging about them. I'm still trying to understand everything.
Each day is like a whole new adventure in Jesus. I wake up in the morning and think, "Where in the world is He going to take me today? What will I learn? What will I do?"
Yesterday, I got so caught up in this study that in the evening, I realized that I was missing Jesus.
"I miss You!" I told Him, wistfully. "I feel like I haven't spent any time with You today."
You've been reading My Word all day long, Jesus reminded me, with tender humor.
"Yeah, but that's not the same as spending time with You," I replied.
You went on a walk with Me and talked to Me a mile a minute about all the things you've been learning, Jesus said with the same tender love.
"Yeah, but that was for just... maybe an hour. I want more of You," I insisted.
So I kept tugging on Him and asking Him and reaching out to Jesus, in my spirit. And that night, I got to just hang out with Jesus and spend some quality time with Him.
I'm constantly asking Jesus for more of Him. I want to understand Him better, to see Him and hear Him more clearly.
Jesus is constantly answering those prayers, but He told me that if I heard Him more clearly, my faith wouldn't be able to grow.
"Alright," I said, resigned. "I understand, I get it. Faith is very important. It must grow. I'll suffer along in this confusion if it means long term good things and because I know You are always in control and will faithfully lead me along."
Jesus is the author of my faith- and that faith came to me as a gift from the Father Himself. So, I am in good hands, for sure.
This morning, I flipped my little calendar and read this:
"I give You thanks, O Lord, with all my heart... I bow before Your holy temple as I worship. I will give thanks to Your name for Your unfailing love and faithfulness, because Your promises are backed by all the honor of Your Name."
Psalm 138:1-2
Only, when I read that, I thought, "I am His holy temple! He lives in me!"
So, you might say, that I throw the whole temple down in joy and love before Jesus, to worship Him.
Who knew life could be so exciting without even leaving the house except to walk in the park?
In the meantime, Keith has begun his last training mission. His higher-ups realized that no one but Keith knew how to run the darn things, and that they'd better start training someone else to take his place, when he came down on orders.
He is in the running for another job, as Platoon Sergeant in another company. If he got the job, we would stay here for a guaranteed two years.
We don't exactly love Georgia, but we love the idea of staying anywhere for another two years, since we are coming, slowly, closer and closer to beginning the adoption plans. If Keith got the job, it would be a huge piece that would fall into place for us.
I feel very peaceful and relaxed about the whole thing- I know that everything will happen as Jesus plans it to happen, one day at a time. One day at a time is very do-able.
I have been caught up in some intense hunger for reading and studying of the Bible these last few days, and as the lessons are new to me, I'm just not confident about blogging about them. I'm still trying to understand everything.
Each day is like a whole new adventure in Jesus. I wake up in the morning and think, "Where in the world is He going to take me today? What will I learn? What will I do?"
Yesterday, I got so caught up in this study that in the evening, I realized that I was missing Jesus.
"I miss You!" I told Him, wistfully. "I feel like I haven't spent any time with You today."
You've been reading My Word all day long, Jesus reminded me, with tender humor.
"Yeah, but that's not the same as spending time with You," I replied.
You went on a walk with Me and talked to Me a mile a minute about all the things you've been learning, Jesus said with the same tender love.
"Yeah, but that was for just... maybe an hour. I want more of You," I insisted.
So I kept tugging on Him and asking Him and reaching out to Jesus, in my spirit. And that night, I got to just hang out with Jesus and spend some quality time with Him.
I'm constantly asking Jesus for more of Him. I want to understand Him better, to see Him and hear Him more clearly.
Jesus is constantly answering those prayers, but He told me that if I heard Him more clearly, my faith wouldn't be able to grow.
"Alright," I said, resigned. "I understand, I get it. Faith is very important. It must grow. I'll suffer along in this confusion if it means long term good things and because I know You are always in control and will faithfully lead me along."
Jesus is the author of my faith- and that faith came to me as a gift from the Father Himself. So, I am in good hands, for sure.
This morning, I flipped my little calendar and read this:
"I give You thanks, O Lord, with all my heart... I bow before Your holy temple as I worship. I will give thanks to Your name for Your unfailing love and faithfulness, because Your promises are backed by all the honor of Your Name."
Psalm 138:1-2
Only, when I read that, I thought, "I am His holy temple! He lives in me!"
So, you might say, that I throw the whole temple down in joy and love before Jesus, to worship Him.
Who knew life could be so exciting without even leaving the house except to walk in the park?
In the meantime, Keith has begun his last training mission. His higher-ups realized that no one but Keith knew how to run the darn things, and that they'd better start training someone else to take his place, when he came down on orders.
He is in the running for another job, as Platoon Sergeant in another company. If he got the job, we would stay here for a guaranteed two years.
We don't exactly love Georgia, but we love the idea of staying anywhere for another two years, since we are coming, slowly, closer and closer to beginning the adoption plans. If Keith got the job, it would be a huge piece that would fall into place for us.
I feel very peaceful and relaxed about the whole thing- I know that everything will happen as Jesus plans it to happen, one day at a time. One day at a time is very do-able.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
January 10th
I remember one quiet, sunny afternoon -I must have been between fourteen and sixteen years of age- when I went creeping quietly up the stairs to the gallery of the Sanctuary building.
The Sanctuary was a very special building for the church that I grew up in. It was used for large meetings and on Sundays for worship services.
It had two galleries that overlooked the main room and large glass windows that let in the blue sky and in the summer, the sight of green leaves moving in the wind.
No one was supposed to go in the Sanctuary, but for some reason I was drawn there that day. Even at that age, I had the vague idea that maybe I could find God in that building, more than in any other place.
The stairs creaked, so I went up the side, clinging to the rail and then stepped cautiously out to the edge of the gallery.
I could look down over the rows and rows of chairs and the raised platform where the pulpit stood. All was hushed and empty.
I began to pray, earnestly and passionately, that God make me like a sturdy oak tree, with my roots planted so deeply in Him that nothing could ever shake me loose.
As I prayed, I felt this growing desire to lift my hands into the air.
This was a strange urge. I was not raised in a church where we lifted our hands; it was not a part of how we praised or worshiped God, that I can remember.
However, the urge grew so strong that I simply had to give in to it. Cautiously, I lifted both my hands up into the air, palms out.
Doing this caused me to feel vulnerable and open, but I had hardly a moment to experience those sensations before I felt God take my hands in His.
A holy awe swept over me like goosebumps.
That was the first time I ever felt God's touch. When this memory came back to me several weeks ago, it increased my understanding that God was calling me to Himself all my life.
There is no other reason for me to have done that, or to have prayed like that. No one asked me to; no one knew where I was.
One night a few weeks ago, as I was resting in Jesus, I was thinking about my childhood, and how much I had liked to go out in the evening.
Especially on windy or snowy nights, I liked to be outside in the weather. I would stand under the street light and watch the snow flakes falling endlessly through the halo of golden light.
I remembered the mysterious beauty of shadows in the night, how it softened all the land and the woods and how the wind breathed over all of it.
As I remembered this, Jesus said to me, I was in the wind.
Wonder and understanding dawned in my mind, as I heard Him say this. It made perfect sense to me.
"I knew it!" I cried, in delight. "I knew You were! That's why I out there; I was looking for You."
"He makes His home on the waters. He makes the clouds His wagon. He rides on the wings of the wind. He makes the winds carry His news. He makes His helpers a burning fire."
Psalm 104:3-4
I think that Jesus is talking to us all our lives, all the time, but we only recognize a few of the times, especially after we've become an adult.
Sometimes I think He's hard to recognize simply because of how much love He has for us- we're so often expecting something different.
It's like we hear a knock on the door- Someone is calling our name! Eagerly we go to open the door and there's this scruffy looking Person standing there, with unloosed sandal straps, unwashed, scarred hands and no place to lay His head. He smells like sheep.
The love in His eyes is almost unbearable, because He sees right through us.
We don't understand how He can love us that much. It hurts. It takes away from us anything else we had ever held on to, anything else that had ever defined us.
In that one moment, in the light of that love, we know that all our good works are meaningless, all our accomplishments nothing more than sandcastles. We are looking in the face of God and we have nothing to offer Him.
He sees everything we are not, and everything we have tried to hide, even from ourselves and He loves us absolutely, completely. We know that if we let Him in, we will be undone by that love.
So we look away. Urgently, we dig in our pocket for some loose change and we tell Him that there's a homeless shelter on down the road, in the center of town. We don't look in His eyes as we speak.
Then we close the door, and we think, with desperation, about the next thing we must do, and the next, and the next and then it's dinner time and there's no time think. We don't pause to consider why that's such a relief.
In bed that night, we decide that on Sunday, we'll donate some money to the church homeless fund. This comforts us, and we fall asleep.
I have done this to Jesus countless times. Countless times I have closed the door in His face, because I could not recognize or accept His love.
But He keeps on knocking- that's the thing.
Then one day, that pestering Stranger comes by and we are so exhausted and our back is so strained and our hands are so aching with all the things we have tried to carry and tried to hold on to and tried to hold at bay, that we must lean against the doorjamb. We are so ashamed that we cannot lift our eyes to Him.
And that scruffy, loving Shepherd opens His arms to us, and when He does, we drop everything and go running to Him like children.
And then we are found. There is laughter and warmth at our house; there is so much to talk about, so much to say.
He stays with us, each day and each night. He makes the garden grow up all around the house and He makes the house snug and warm against the storms outside.
In the evening, when we sit curled peacefully up against Him, He tells us stories and teaches us, and the light shines out all the windows and the open doors.
The Sanctuary was a very special building for the church that I grew up in. It was used for large meetings and on Sundays for worship services.
It had two galleries that overlooked the main room and large glass windows that let in the blue sky and in the summer, the sight of green leaves moving in the wind.
No one was supposed to go in the Sanctuary, but for some reason I was drawn there that day. Even at that age, I had the vague idea that maybe I could find God in that building, more than in any other place.
The stairs creaked, so I went up the side, clinging to the rail and then stepped cautiously out to the edge of the gallery.
I could look down over the rows and rows of chairs and the raised platform where the pulpit stood. All was hushed and empty.
I began to pray, earnestly and passionately, that God make me like a sturdy oak tree, with my roots planted so deeply in Him that nothing could ever shake me loose.
As I prayed, I felt this growing desire to lift my hands into the air.
This was a strange urge. I was not raised in a church where we lifted our hands; it was not a part of how we praised or worshiped God, that I can remember.
However, the urge grew so strong that I simply had to give in to it. Cautiously, I lifted both my hands up into the air, palms out.
Doing this caused me to feel vulnerable and open, but I had hardly a moment to experience those sensations before I felt God take my hands in His.
A holy awe swept over me like goosebumps.
That was the first time I ever felt God's touch. When this memory came back to me several weeks ago, it increased my understanding that God was calling me to Himself all my life.
There is no other reason for me to have done that, or to have prayed like that. No one asked me to; no one knew where I was.
One night a few weeks ago, as I was resting in Jesus, I was thinking about my childhood, and how much I had liked to go out in the evening.
Especially on windy or snowy nights, I liked to be outside in the weather. I would stand under the street light and watch the snow flakes falling endlessly through the halo of golden light.
I remembered the mysterious beauty of shadows in the night, how it softened all the land and the woods and how the wind breathed over all of it.
As I remembered this, Jesus said to me, I was in the wind.
Wonder and understanding dawned in my mind, as I heard Him say this. It made perfect sense to me.
"I knew it!" I cried, in delight. "I knew You were! That's why I out there; I was looking for You."
"He makes His home on the waters. He makes the clouds His wagon. He rides on the wings of the wind. He makes the winds carry His news. He makes His helpers a burning fire."
Psalm 104:3-4
I think that Jesus is talking to us all our lives, all the time, but we only recognize a few of the times, especially after we've become an adult.
Sometimes I think He's hard to recognize simply because of how much love He has for us- we're so often expecting something different.
It's like we hear a knock on the door- Someone is calling our name! Eagerly we go to open the door and there's this scruffy looking Person standing there, with unloosed sandal straps, unwashed, scarred hands and no place to lay His head. He smells like sheep.
The love in His eyes is almost unbearable, because He sees right through us.
We don't understand how He can love us that much. It hurts. It takes away from us anything else we had ever held on to, anything else that had ever defined us.
In that one moment, in the light of that love, we know that all our good works are meaningless, all our accomplishments nothing more than sandcastles. We are looking in the face of God and we have nothing to offer Him.
He sees everything we are not, and everything we have tried to hide, even from ourselves and He loves us absolutely, completely. We know that if we let Him in, we will be undone by that love.
So we look away. Urgently, we dig in our pocket for some loose change and we tell Him that there's a homeless shelter on down the road, in the center of town. We don't look in His eyes as we speak.
Then we close the door, and we think, with desperation, about the next thing we must do, and the next, and the next and then it's dinner time and there's no time think. We don't pause to consider why that's such a relief.
In bed that night, we decide that on Sunday, we'll donate some money to the church homeless fund. This comforts us, and we fall asleep.
I have done this to Jesus countless times. Countless times I have closed the door in His face, because I could not recognize or accept His love.
But He keeps on knocking- that's the thing.
Then one day, that pestering Stranger comes by and we are so exhausted and our back is so strained and our hands are so aching with all the things we have tried to carry and tried to hold on to and tried to hold at bay, that we must lean against the doorjamb. We are so ashamed that we cannot lift our eyes to Him.
And that scruffy, loving Shepherd opens His arms to us, and when He does, we drop everything and go running to Him like children.
And then we are found. There is laughter and warmth at our house; there is so much to talk about, so much to say.
He stays with us, each day and each night. He makes the garden grow up all around the house and He makes the house snug and warm against the storms outside.
In the evening, when we sit curled peacefully up against Him, He tells us stories and teaches us, and the light shines out all the windows and the open doors.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
January 8th
Yesterday I read this:
"Then He (Jesus) came to Bethsaida; and they brought a blind man to Him, and begged Him to touch him. So He took the blind man by the hand and led him out of the town."
Mark 8:22-23
The twenty third verse continues on, but my whole attention stopped at the last sentence.
Imagine being blind and having Jesus take you by the hand- your outstretched fingers securely enclosed His warm and calloused hand.
For some reason, I imagined it being very quiet, and hot with the sun of mid day.
And all one can hear is the distant bleating of sheep and the voices of some neighbor women drifting through their open window, and maybe the sound of the wind on the hills around the village.
There are the smells of stones baking in the sun, and sheep dung. There must have been the smell of fish and water, because it was a fishing village, and the smell of unwashed men.
The blind man- would he have walked along slowly, clinging to the hand of Jesus, this mysterious Teacher and his only hope? Perhaps behind them walked the blind man's friends and the disciples, maybe talking together quietly.
Maybe, as soon as Jesus took his hand, the blind man would have forgotten all his anxieties, his desperate hopes and even his suffering. Maybe everything in him would have become quiet and still, and warm from the sun.
If Jesus spoke to him, the voice of Jesus, as He directed the blind man along the path, would have been so quiet and calm, and somehow so dearly familiar, that I doubt the blind man would have startled.
But perhaps he would have been surprised when Jesus stopped leading him.
Maybe, he would have thought, "Are we here already?"
And maybe, when he looked up to see men as trees, walking, and then looked up again, to see everyone plainly in the light of day, that light could not compare to the light that had already dawned within him, as soon as he took the hand of Jesus.
"I will bring the blind by a way they did not know;
I will lead them in paths they have not known.
I will make darkness light before them,
And crooked places straight.
These things I will do for them,
And not forsake them."
Isaiah 42:16
"Then He (Jesus) came to Bethsaida; and they brought a blind man to Him, and begged Him to touch him. So He took the blind man by the hand and led him out of the town."
Mark 8:22-23
The twenty third verse continues on, but my whole attention stopped at the last sentence.
Imagine being blind and having Jesus take you by the hand- your outstretched fingers securely enclosed His warm and calloused hand.
For some reason, I imagined it being very quiet, and hot with the sun of mid day.
And all one can hear is the distant bleating of sheep and the voices of some neighbor women drifting through their open window, and maybe the sound of the wind on the hills around the village.
There are the smells of stones baking in the sun, and sheep dung. There must have been the smell of fish and water, because it was a fishing village, and the smell of unwashed men.
The blind man- would he have walked along slowly, clinging to the hand of Jesus, this mysterious Teacher and his only hope? Perhaps behind them walked the blind man's friends and the disciples, maybe talking together quietly.
Maybe, as soon as Jesus took his hand, the blind man would have forgotten all his anxieties, his desperate hopes and even his suffering. Maybe everything in him would have become quiet and still, and warm from the sun.
If Jesus spoke to him, the voice of Jesus, as He directed the blind man along the path, would have been so quiet and calm, and somehow so dearly familiar, that I doubt the blind man would have startled.
But perhaps he would have been surprised when Jesus stopped leading him.
Maybe, he would have thought, "Are we here already?"
And maybe, when he looked up to see men as trees, walking, and then looked up again, to see everyone plainly in the light of day, that light could not compare to the light that had already dawned within him, as soon as he took the hand of Jesus.
"I will bring the blind by a way they did not know;
I will lead them in paths they have not known.
I will make darkness light before them,
And crooked places straight.
These things I will do for them,
And not forsake them."
Isaiah 42:16
Saturday, January 7, 2012
January 7th
Last night I finished Matthew and began reading Mark.
That gospel is kind of cute, because everything happens, like immediately! Right away! Whatever happens to be happening, Jesus is just, on it.
I was curled up on the bed, reading. It was as though I were reading in Jesus' arms, leaning back against Him, His head close to mine as we read together.
"To what shall we liken the Kingdom of God?" Jesus asked, in a musing voice, His eyes alight with the quiet pleasure of the story teller. "Or with what parable shall we picture it?"
"To what?" I asked Him, feeling cozy and happy. "To what shall we compare it, Jesus?"
To a mustard seed, it turns out.
"...which," Jesus said to me, His voice so quietly captivating, "when it is sown on the ground, is smaller than all the seeds of the earth; but when it is sown, it grows up and becomes greater than all herbs, and shoots out large branches, so that the birds of the air may nest under its shade."
I pondered this lovely image for a bit, and then we read on.
We reached the part about the man of the tombs, who begs to follow Jesus, and Jesus did not permit him.
I was lost in thought at this, thinking that, if that were me, I would have left for home just brokenly sobbing, dejected.
I saw myself stumbling around through the tombs, heading home, unable to see for my tears and wondering about why I could not come with Him.
I did not say that to you, Jesus reminded me, interrupting my thoughts with His loving humor.
Love flowed through me, releasing me from my thoughts. I took a deep breath of relief and yielded back into Jesus' loving presence.
"No," I said happily remembering. "You did not say that to me. You will always be close to me."
I was always close to him, Jesus told me, and delight and wonder filled me again.
"Of course You were!" I agreed, realizing it. "He would have left and found You living in and loving him, right in his heart, all his life."
It is Keith's birthday weekend, and so far today he has had a pizza omelet- yes, I did combine two of his favorite foods- and we have cruised the car lots in the HD. He got several compliments on his truck and almost bought a Jeep.
We had sloppy hamburgers for lunch, and fries with barbecue sauce, and then we went to the off road dealership and then to the store for steak and potatoes and a strawberry ice cream cake.
He received a string of decorative John Deere lights from my parents, and they are now proudly displayed over the fireplace mantel.
Tomorrow we are hitting the ATV trails, and I sincerely hope that the rest of the south does not also have the same plan in mind. Surely not.
That gospel is kind of cute, because everything happens, like immediately! Right away! Whatever happens to be happening, Jesus is just, on it.
I was curled up on the bed, reading. It was as though I were reading in Jesus' arms, leaning back against Him, His head close to mine as we read together.
"To what shall we liken the Kingdom of God?" Jesus asked, in a musing voice, His eyes alight with the quiet pleasure of the story teller. "Or with what parable shall we picture it?"
"To what?" I asked Him, feeling cozy and happy. "To what shall we compare it, Jesus?"
To a mustard seed, it turns out.
"...which," Jesus said to me, His voice so quietly captivating, "when it is sown on the ground, is smaller than all the seeds of the earth; but when it is sown, it grows up and becomes greater than all herbs, and shoots out large branches, so that the birds of the air may nest under its shade."
I pondered this lovely image for a bit, and then we read on.
We reached the part about the man of the tombs, who begs to follow Jesus, and Jesus did not permit him.
I was lost in thought at this, thinking that, if that were me, I would have left for home just brokenly sobbing, dejected.
I saw myself stumbling around through the tombs, heading home, unable to see for my tears and wondering about why I could not come with Him.
I did not say that to you, Jesus reminded me, interrupting my thoughts with His loving humor.
Love flowed through me, releasing me from my thoughts. I took a deep breath of relief and yielded back into Jesus' loving presence.
"No," I said happily remembering. "You did not say that to me. You will always be close to me."
I was always close to him, Jesus told me, and delight and wonder filled me again.
"Of course You were!" I agreed, realizing it. "He would have left and found You living in and loving him, right in his heart, all his life."
It is Keith's birthday weekend, and so far today he has had a pizza omelet- yes, I did combine two of his favorite foods- and we have cruised the car lots in the HD. He got several compliments on his truck and almost bought a Jeep.
We had sloppy hamburgers for lunch, and fries with barbecue sauce, and then we went to the off road dealership and then to the store for steak and potatoes and a strawberry ice cream cake.
He received a string of decorative John Deere lights from my parents, and they are now proudly displayed over the fireplace mantel.
Tomorrow we are hitting the ATV trails, and I sincerely hope that the rest of the south does not also have the same plan in mind. Surely not.
Friday, January 6, 2012
January 6th
A huge amount of anxiety has been lifted off me, concerning my blog. I seem to have reached a new perspective on it.
In the four years since I've been blogging, I've been slowly and steadily moving away from the standard use and idea of a blog.
In the same way, I myself have been moving away from society's idea of normal and been able, more and more, to just be myself.
Most recently, I have been freed from a whole network of old and crippling ideas and beliefs, and led further into the presence and grace and Person of God. True to form, I took my blog with me.
Soren Kierkegaard said "Anxiety is the dizziness of freedom."
How true that is! It is not pleasant, not pleasant at all. Eventually, however, one gets a head for heights.
The last couple of days, I have been really drawn to the gospel of Matthew. I find this a challenging gospel. I do not understand so many things that Jesus is doing and saying.
Like Paul said:
"Oh, the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgments and His ways past finding out!
“For who has known the mind of the LORD?
Or who has become His counselor?”
“Or who has first given to Him
And it shall be repaid to him?”
For of Him and through Him and to Him are all things, to whom be glory forever. Amen.
-Romans 11:33-36
That's a good place to start, when it comes to God.
Still, I am enjoying this gospel. Even when I don't understand Him, I find Jesus irresistibly attractive.
I have learned that His context is always love. Even His anger and frustration flows out of His love. His mysterious purposes are founded on love.
And oh!
To see Jesus go away by Himself, and throw Himself face first on the ground, and cry out "O My Father..."
I fell in love with Him just a thousand times more.
In the four years since I've been blogging, I've been slowly and steadily moving away from the standard use and idea of a blog.
In the same way, I myself have been moving away from society's idea of normal and been able, more and more, to just be myself.
Most recently, I have been freed from a whole network of old and crippling ideas and beliefs, and led further into the presence and grace and Person of God. True to form, I took my blog with me.
Soren Kierkegaard said "Anxiety is the dizziness of freedom."
How true that is! It is not pleasant, not pleasant at all. Eventually, however, one gets a head for heights.
The last couple of days, I have been really drawn to the gospel of Matthew. I find this a challenging gospel. I do not understand so many things that Jesus is doing and saying.
Like Paul said:
"Oh, the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgments and His ways past finding out!
“For who has known the mind of the LORD?
Or who has become His counselor?”
“Or who has first given to Him
And it shall be repaid to him?”
For of Him and through Him and to Him are all things, to whom be glory forever. Amen.
-Romans 11:33-36
That's a good place to start, when it comes to God.
Still, I am enjoying this gospel. Even when I don't understand Him, I find Jesus irresistibly attractive.
I have learned that His context is always love. Even His anger and frustration flows out of His love. His mysterious purposes are founded on love.
And oh!
To see Jesus go away by Himself, and throw Himself face first on the ground, and cry out "O My Father..."
I fell in love with Him just a thousand times more.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
January 5th
It's funny how posting an experience alters my own perception of it.
Reading my story over again, it was as though I saw my response to Jesus in a new light. I thought, "Whoa. What kind of crazy person just instinctively answers like that?"
I think it's because I fell in love with the Person of God, and not the religion around Him.
Like, if Jesus had said to me, "You have My religion; you follow My religion each moment of every day, and on Sundays, you get to go to church," I would have ended up sobbing at the top of the stairs and been crippled with depression for the rest of the holiday season, if not the rest of my life.
I could never have answered as I did if Jesus had not, for a long time before, been filling my heart and my life with His love. So my answer is really no credit to me whatsoever, and all credit to His work and His altogether lovely and irresistible nature.
I felt so peaceful and centered yesterday that I decided I wouldn't go for a walk, but when I finished my blog, Jesus said, Come out with Me; we'll listen to the second half of Handel's Messiah.
Joy and delight filled me; I knew exactly what He meant.
When I walk, I like to listen to Handel's Messiah. When I leave the door, I begin with "Comfort Ye My People."
By the time I reach a stretch of solemn, towering pines, their branches filtering the sunlight, the ground gold and green from the needles, I'm hearing "Goodwill towards men," which has more than once caused me to cry from the simple joy of it.
However, by the time I get home, I have reached the songs which describe the Passion of Christ. It's excruciating to listen to those songs, and on more than one occasion, I have skipped over them.
Yesterday, I did not. So many times I wanted to put my hands over my ears. The worst is when they mock Him as He hangs on the cross. I just can't understand it. Isn't it enough that they should kill Him? Must they then actually mock Him as He's dying?
And the things they say to Him, the Son of God! And what is Jesus doing, while this is happening? He is forgiving the ones that crucified Him, He taking care of His grief stricken mother and He is reassuring the thief that hangs next to Him.
As I listened to this, sorrow and grief filled me. When I reached the song, "Thy Rebuke Has Broken His Heart," I had to keep taking deep breaths because of the heaviness that weighed down on me. Tears filled my eyes.
This entire time, of course, Jesus was right beside me; we walked along together. I don't know if this is true or not, but I like to think that, by opening my heart to those songs and moving through the grief, in a small way, I feel like I can keep vigil with Him.
The best part about doing this is, of course, reaching the end. As soon as I heard the chords for "But Thou Didst Not Leave His Soul In Hell," my heart lifted. Indescribable joy filled me; my tears changed to tears of joy.
Even the landscape was transformed. It glittered and shone with light; light poured down through the bare branches of the winter trees. The light was dazzling on the road.
"Is it over already?" I asked Jesus, with disbelieving joy. And then I felt guilty, for thinking His passion was short lived, and He reminded me of this:
"A woman, when she gives birth to a child, has grief (anguish, agony) because her time has come. But when she has delivered the child, she no longer remembers her pain (trouble, anguish) because she is so glad that a man (a child, a human being) has been born into the world.
"So for the present you are also in sorrow (in distress and depressed); but I will see you again and [then] your hearts will rejoice, and no one can take from you your joy (gladness, delight)." (John 16:21-22)
Worship and love poured out of me, as I walked along the road. And then I was listening to "Lift Up Your Heads, O Ye Gates." It paints such a gorgeous pictures of Jesus' triumphant return to His Father, having conquered death once and for all. I felt shy, because Jesus is the King of Glory, and the Lord of Hosts.
I carried you with Me through those gates, Jesus said.
I thought that was an extraordinary thing for Him to say, and I didn't see how it could possibly be true.
So, He reminded me of this:
"If then you have been raised with Christ [to a new life, thus sharing His resurrection from the dead], aim at and seek the [rich, eternal treasures] that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. And set your minds and keep them set on what is above (the higher things), not on the things that are on the earth.
"For [as far as this world is concerned] you have died, and your [new, real] life is hidden with Christ in God."
-Colossians 3:1-3, Amplified Bible
I'm still pondering this thought. I never thought about it quite like that before; that, just as He died carrying our sins, He rose again carrying our redeemed and new lives safely with Him, and through the everlasting gates.
"But God is so rich in mercy, and he loved us so much, that even though we were dead because of our sins, he gave us life when he raised Christ from the dead. (It is only by God’s grace that you have been saved!) For he raised us from the dead along with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms because we are united with Christ Jesus. So God can point to us in all future ages as examples of the incredible wealth of his grace and kindness toward us, as shown in all he has done for us who are united with Christ Jesus."
-Ephesians 2:4-7
Reading my story over again, it was as though I saw my response to Jesus in a new light. I thought, "Whoa. What kind of crazy person just instinctively answers like that?"
I think it's because I fell in love with the Person of God, and not the religion around Him.
Like, if Jesus had said to me, "You have My religion; you follow My religion each moment of every day, and on Sundays, you get to go to church," I would have ended up sobbing at the top of the stairs and been crippled with depression for the rest of the holiday season, if not the rest of my life.
I could never have answered as I did if Jesus had not, for a long time before, been filling my heart and my life with His love. So my answer is really no credit to me whatsoever, and all credit to His work and His altogether lovely and irresistible nature.
I felt so peaceful and centered yesterday that I decided I wouldn't go for a walk, but when I finished my blog, Jesus said, Come out with Me; we'll listen to the second half of Handel's Messiah.
Joy and delight filled me; I knew exactly what He meant.
When I walk, I like to listen to Handel's Messiah. When I leave the door, I begin with "Comfort Ye My People."
By the time I reach a stretch of solemn, towering pines, their branches filtering the sunlight, the ground gold and green from the needles, I'm hearing "Goodwill towards men," which has more than once caused me to cry from the simple joy of it.
However, by the time I get home, I have reached the songs which describe the Passion of Christ. It's excruciating to listen to those songs, and on more than one occasion, I have skipped over them.
Yesterday, I did not. So many times I wanted to put my hands over my ears. The worst is when they mock Him as He hangs on the cross. I just can't understand it. Isn't it enough that they should kill Him? Must they then actually mock Him as He's dying?
And the things they say to Him, the Son of God! And what is Jesus doing, while this is happening? He is forgiving the ones that crucified Him, He taking care of His grief stricken mother and He is reassuring the thief that hangs next to Him.
As I listened to this, sorrow and grief filled me. When I reached the song, "Thy Rebuke Has Broken His Heart," I had to keep taking deep breaths because of the heaviness that weighed down on me. Tears filled my eyes.
This entire time, of course, Jesus was right beside me; we walked along together. I don't know if this is true or not, but I like to think that, by opening my heart to those songs and moving through the grief, in a small way, I feel like I can keep vigil with Him.
The best part about doing this is, of course, reaching the end. As soon as I heard the chords for "But Thou Didst Not Leave His Soul In Hell," my heart lifted. Indescribable joy filled me; my tears changed to tears of joy.
Even the landscape was transformed. It glittered and shone with light; light poured down through the bare branches of the winter trees. The light was dazzling on the road.
"Is it over already?" I asked Jesus, with disbelieving joy. And then I felt guilty, for thinking His passion was short lived, and He reminded me of this:
"A woman, when she gives birth to a child, has grief (anguish, agony) because her time has come. But when she has delivered the child, she no longer remembers her pain (trouble, anguish) because she is so glad that a man (a child, a human being) has been born into the world.
"So for the present you are also in sorrow (in distress and depressed); but I will see you again and [then] your hearts will rejoice, and no one can take from you your joy (gladness, delight)." (John 16:21-22)
Worship and love poured out of me, as I walked along the road. And then I was listening to "Lift Up Your Heads, O Ye Gates." It paints such a gorgeous pictures of Jesus' triumphant return to His Father, having conquered death once and for all. I felt shy, because Jesus is the King of Glory, and the Lord of Hosts.
I carried you with Me through those gates, Jesus said.
I thought that was an extraordinary thing for Him to say, and I didn't see how it could possibly be true.
So, He reminded me of this:
"If then you have been raised with Christ [to a new life, thus sharing His resurrection from the dead], aim at and seek the [rich, eternal treasures] that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. And set your minds and keep them set on what is above (the higher things), not on the things that are on the earth.
"For [as far as this world is concerned] you have died, and your [new, real] life is hidden with Christ in God."
-Colossians 3:1-3, Amplified Bible
I'm still pondering this thought. I never thought about it quite like that before; that, just as He died carrying our sins, He rose again carrying our redeemed and new lives safely with Him, and through the everlasting gates.
"But God is so rich in mercy, and he loved us so much, that even though we were dead because of our sins, he gave us life when he raised Christ from the dead. (It is only by God’s grace that you have been saved!) For he raised us from the dead along with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms because we are united with Christ Jesus. So God can point to us in all future ages as examples of the incredible wealth of his grace and kindness toward us, as shown in all he has done for us who are united with Christ Jesus."
-Ephesians 2:4-7
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
January 4th
I woke up this morning filled with a peaceful expectancy.
An e-mail from a friend of the heart filled me with peace and joy. What she had to say was just perfect.
Now I feel a further sense of freedom and comfort. If you are still reading my blog, I'm going to guess that it's because I talk about Jesus.
So talk about Him I will.
On Christmas day, I learned that my sister in law is pregnant with her third child.
When I heard this, I felt numb. I felt a false and empty smile linger on my face. I moved around the room mechanically, not really seeing anything in front of me.
Keith and I were very quiet as we drove back to his father's house, for Christmas festivities there.
I dreaded it. Between the two families, with my infant nephew, two little nieces and now the new baby on the way, there would naturally be a great deal of baby talk. There would be talk of labor and which car seats are best and feeding schedules.
That is all a foreign language to me. I have nothing whatsoever to add to such conversations.
Since it was no secret that this third pregnancy wasn't planned, and as we are talking about the Indiana boys here, there would be countless jokes about the inefficiency -or completely lack of- birth control.
This is, of course, worse than ironic for Keith and I. We would end up standing on the outskirts of the laughing group, holding our drinks, with the looks on our faces something between bewilderment and pain.
"Wouldn't it be great if they had a little boy this time?" I asked Keith, my voice small and hopeful.
"That would be," he said, heartily- I heard the effort behind it.
When we pulled up in the driveway, I went straight upstairs, grateful that we had a guestroom. I had put off wrapping the presents until the very last minute, so I busied myself with that task in the quiet room.
I felt my peace returning to me as I tucked and taped and tagged. When I was done, I stood with an armful of gifts and made my way out to the landing.
Happy voices drifted up from downstairs. The front door and windows were swagged with greenery; it was looped all down the stair rail, entwined with white lights.
I paused there for a moment. As I had for the entire visit, I felt the close and loving presence of Jesus. For the first time since hearing the announcement, I felt up to talking with Him about it.
"Why?" I asked Jesus quietly. "Why are You making me a barren woman?"
"You have Me in abundance; all through your heart and in your life," Jesus replied.
At His words, joy flared up in my spirit; joy leaped up like a flame. I knew His words to be so true and I remembered how deeply I cherished His presence. My joy at remembering this consumed all my sorrow and regret.
"You, You, You!" I cried with joyful abandon. "I choose You, every time, over every thing. Let my life be what it must and let me have You. So be it."
I went down the stairs with a light heart and put the packages down. Then I took my little nephew and cuddled him in my arms. He had that little baby smell- warm and clean and fuzzy headed.
He's an adorable little boy, but he was suffering from a raspy cough. He curled up on my chest and tried to sleep, but his cough kept troubling him.
It hurt to watch- so young and helpless and innocent, and already caught up in the suffering of life. I reached out to Jesus and I felt His presence surround me. I felt Him put His arms around the little boy and I. We were rocked in the arms of Jesus, filled with peace and love like a sweet, heavy balm.
And I knew then that the little boy was not suffering alone; Jesus was in it with Him, suffering right alongside of him. No matter what happened in his life, Jesus would be with him, just as He is with all of us.
It dawned on me, in a new way, that Jesus Himself had been born human- had allowed Himself to be as helpless and humble as the infant in my arms. It was so huge and so astonishing that I could scarcely wrap my mind around it.
I think there can be no greater love or courage or humility than His. No wonder His Father loves and delights in Him so.
It turned out to be the best Christmas Keith and I have had with his family. There was so much laughter and peace and just this feeling of warm ease.
Now I have to wrap this up so I can switch to working on Torii. I'm determined this year to have it complete and polished, even if I have no idea how or when it will ever be published.
That story holds my heart and soul, I tell you what.
An e-mail from a friend of the heart filled me with peace and joy. What she had to say was just perfect.
Now I feel a further sense of freedom and comfort. If you are still reading my blog, I'm going to guess that it's because I talk about Jesus.
So talk about Him I will.
On Christmas day, I learned that my sister in law is pregnant with her third child.
When I heard this, I felt numb. I felt a false and empty smile linger on my face. I moved around the room mechanically, not really seeing anything in front of me.
Keith and I were very quiet as we drove back to his father's house, for Christmas festivities there.
I dreaded it. Between the two families, with my infant nephew, two little nieces and now the new baby on the way, there would naturally be a great deal of baby talk. There would be talk of labor and which car seats are best and feeding schedules.
That is all a foreign language to me. I have nothing whatsoever to add to such conversations.
Since it was no secret that this third pregnancy wasn't planned, and as we are talking about the Indiana boys here, there would be countless jokes about the inefficiency -or completely lack of- birth control.
This is, of course, worse than ironic for Keith and I. We would end up standing on the outskirts of the laughing group, holding our drinks, with the looks on our faces something between bewilderment and pain.
"Wouldn't it be great if they had a little boy this time?" I asked Keith, my voice small and hopeful.
"That would be," he said, heartily- I heard the effort behind it.
When we pulled up in the driveway, I went straight upstairs, grateful that we had a guestroom. I had put off wrapping the presents until the very last minute, so I busied myself with that task in the quiet room.
I felt my peace returning to me as I tucked and taped and tagged. When I was done, I stood with an armful of gifts and made my way out to the landing.
Happy voices drifted up from downstairs. The front door and windows were swagged with greenery; it was looped all down the stair rail, entwined with white lights.
I paused there for a moment. As I had for the entire visit, I felt the close and loving presence of Jesus. For the first time since hearing the announcement, I felt up to talking with Him about it.
"Why?" I asked Jesus quietly. "Why are You making me a barren woman?"
"You have Me in abundance; all through your heart and in your life," Jesus replied.
At His words, joy flared up in my spirit; joy leaped up like a flame. I knew His words to be so true and I remembered how deeply I cherished His presence. My joy at remembering this consumed all my sorrow and regret.
"You, You, You!" I cried with joyful abandon. "I choose You, every time, over every thing. Let my life be what it must and let me have You. So be it."
I went down the stairs with a light heart and put the packages down. Then I took my little nephew and cuddled him in my arms. He had that little baby smell- warm and clean and fuzzy headed.
He's an adorable little boy, but he was suffering from a raspy cough. He curled up on my chest and tried to sleep, but his cough kept troubling him.
It hurt to watch- so young and helpless and innocent, and already caught up in the suffering of life. I reached out to Jesus and I felt His presence surround me. I felt Him put His arms around the little boy and I. We were rocked in the arms of Jesus, filled with peace and love like a sweet, heavy balm.
And I knew then that the little boy was not suffering alone; Jesus was in it with Him, suffering right alongside of him. No matter what happened in his life, Jesus would be with him, just as He is with all of us.
It dawned on me, in a new way, that Jesus Himself had been born human- had allowed Himself to be as helpless and humble as the infant in my arms. It was so huge and so astonishing that I could scarcely wrap my mind around it.
I think there can be no greater love or courage or humility than His. No wonder His Father loves and delights in Him so.
It turned out to be the best Christmas Keith and I have had with his family. There was so much laughter and peace and just this feeling of warm ease.
Now I have to wrap this up so I can switch to working on Torii. I'm determined this year to have it complete and polished, even if I have no idea how or when it will ever be published.
That story holds my heart and soul, I tell you what.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
January 3rd
I went for a walk and I had an insight into my conflict over my blog.
I remembered, or realized, that Jesus is teaching me to align what is temporary with what is eternal. That is how my spirit is sharpened and grows the best.
My spirit and heart are new in Christ. But my earthly self -that part that is passing away- must be gently and lovingly and consistently drawn into alignment with what is eternal.
The passing-away-self wants what is earthly. The true me, the eternal me, wants what is eternal. I feel these conflicting desires.
This conflict has the potential to bring about incredible growth in me, I believe, when I surrender myself to Jesus. It's surrendering the old way of being for the truth and life that I have in Christ that causes myself to grow and deepen.
Little by little, with Jesus renewing my mind and strengthening my spirit, the old me aligns with the eternal.
If this were easy, there would be no growth. Instead, this lasts all one's life- there is always a choice to surrender more deeply to Jesus- to what is eternal, to what it real and lasting.
The other part is that it's just not easy to be so vulnerable about my walk with Jesus. I wouldn't do this if I didn't feel with such certainty that He wishes me to do so. This was not my plan for my blog, that is for sure.
How would my faith grow, if I knew for certain what His long term plan was, or what He was doing with what I offered Him?
Whenever I go through one of these "I wish my life/blog were normal" phases, that desire always ends up being swallowed up by my deeper and more overwhelming desire for God. I can't resist Him for very long.
I read this, this afternoon, and it deeply fed my soul:
"But if God Himself has taken up residence in your life, you can hardly be thinking more of yourself than of Him. Anyone, of course, who has not welcomed this invisible but clearly present God, the Spirit of Christ, won't know what we're talking about. But for you who welcome Him, in whom He dwells—even though you still experience all the limitations of sin—you yourself experience life on God's terms. It stands to reason, doesn't it, that if the alive-and-present God who raised Jesus from the dead moves into your life, He'll do the same thing in you that He did in Jesus, bringing you alive to Himself? When God lives and breathes in you (and He does, as surely as He did in Jesus), you are delivered from that dead life. With His Spirit living in you, your body will be as alive as Christ's!
"So don't you see that we don't owe this old do-it-yourself life one red cent. There's nothing in it for us, nothing at all. The best thing to do is give it a decent burial and get on with your new life. God's Spirit beckons. There are things to do and places to go!
"This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It's adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike "What's next, Papa?"
-Romans 8:9-15, The Message
I remembered, or realized, that Jesus is teaching me to align what is temporary with what is eternal. That is how my spirit is sharpened and grows the best.
My spirit and heart are new in Christ. But my earthly self -that part that is passing away- must be gently and lovingly and consistently drawn into alignment with what is eternal.
The passing-away-self wants what is earthly. The true me, the eternal me, wants what is eternal. I feel these conflicting desires.
This conflict has the potential to bring about incredible growth in me, I believe, when I surrender myself to Jesus. It's surrendering the old way of being for the truth and life that I have in Christ that causes myself to grow and deepen.
Little by little, with Jesus renewing my mind and strengthening my spirit, the old me aligns with the eternal.
If this were easy, there would be no growth. Instead, this lasts all one's life- there is always a choice to surrender more deeply to Jesus- to what is eternal, to what it real and lasting.
The other part is that it's just not easy to be so vulnerable about my walk with Jesus. I wouldn't do this if I didn't feel with such certainty that He wishes me to do so. This was not my plan for my blog, that is for sure.
How would my faith grow, if I knew for certain what His long term plan was, or what He was doing with what I offered Him?
Whenever I go through one of these "I wish my life/blog were normal" phases, that desire always ends up being swallowed up by my deeper and more overwhelming desire for God. I can't resist Him for very long.
I read this, this afternoon, and it deeply fed my soul:
"But if God Himself has taken up residence in your life, you can hardly be thinking more of yourself than of Him. Anyone, of course, who has not welcomed this invisible but clearly present God, the Spirit of Christ, won't know what we're talking about. But for you who welcome Him, in whom He dwells—even though you still experience all the limitations of sin—you yourself experience life on God's terms. It stands to reason, doesn't it, that if the alive-and-present God who raised Jesus from the dead moves into your life, He'll do the same thing in you that He did in Jesus, bringing you alive to Himself? When God lives and breathes in you (and He does, as surely as He did in Jesus), you are delivered from that dead life. With His Spirit living in you, your body will be as alive as Christ's!
"So don't you see that we don't owe this old do-it-yourself life one red cent. There's nothing in it for us, nothing at all. The best thing to do is give it a decent burial and get on with your new life. God's Spirit beckons. There are things to do and places to go!
"This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It's adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike "What's next, Papa?"
-Romans 8:9-15, The Message
January 3rd
I feel conflicted about my blog.
After about three months of talking so persistently and so outrageously about Jesus, I have about five readers left.
I wish I could say that I was so deeply spiritual and above it all that this doesn't touch me, but I can't lie. I feel sad about this.
I wonder, should I have talked about Him less? Should I have hidden the way in which I know Him?
If I go on talking about Jesus in the way I do, will I end up merely talking to myself, in a big empty space?
This whole walking by faith thing can be very unsatisfactory at times. How's that for an understatement?
I woke up this morning to a quiet house. I drank it in. I wandered around in a sort of happy bliss, taking in the stillness, the silence, the calm blue light of dawn.
The windows drew me on every side, with their vistas of a light filled landscape, pale blues and ambers and silver tipped grasses lit up like torches by the rising sun.
I woke up hungry for Jesus. My hunger for Him never ebbs.
Almost, I have resigned myself to this fact. Sometimes still I wonder why this is- why I am never satisfied, why I always want more, and deeper and more present.
Then I realize that the answer doesn't matter, anyway. What matters is that it is true.
So I cried out to Jesus and begged Him and poured out my heart to Him and He opened my heart to His presence, and I drank it in like the light.
Then I flipped over my little calendar and read this:
"O Lord, You have examined my heart and know everything about me. You know what I am going to say even before I say it, Lord. You both precede and follow me. You place Your hand of blessing on my head."
-Psalm 139:1, 4-5
After about three months of talking so persistently and so outrageously about Jesus, I have about five readers left.
I wish I could say that I was so deeply spiritual and above it all that this doesn't touch me, but I can't lie. I feel sad about this.
I wonder, should I have talked about Him less? Should I have hidden the way in which I know Him?
If I go on talking about Jesus in the way I do, will I end up merely talking to myself, in a big empty space?
This whole walking by faith thing can be very unsatisfactory at times. How's that for an understatement?
I woke up this morning to a quiet house. I drank it in. I wandered around in a sort of happy bliss, taking in the stillness, the silence, the calm blue light of dawn.
The windows drew me on every side, with their vistas of a light filled landscape, pale blues and ambers and silver tipped grasses lit up like torches by the rising sun.
I woke up hungry for Jesus. My hunger for Him never ebbs.
Almost, I have resigned myself to this fact. Sometimes still I wonder why this is- why I am never satisfied, why I always want more, and deeper and more present.
Then I realize that the answer doesn't matter, anyway. What matters is that it is true.
So I cried out to Jesus and begged Him and poured out my heart to Him and He opened my heart to His presence, and I drank it in like the light.
Then I flipped over my little calendar and read this:
"O Lord, You have examined my heart and know everything about me. You know what I am going to say even before I say it, Lord. You both precede and follow me. You place Your hand of blessing on my head."
-Psalm 139:1, 4-5
Sunday, January 1, 2012
January 1st
I've been playing with my blog design- I still haven't gotten the colors right yet.
The Christmas tree is down, and in its place is the treadmill- and so the new year begins.
I am worn out- just worn right the heck out. I have had a great deal of blog material, but just no time or peace to pull my thoughts together.
Yesterday, I thought it was the last day of leave, and it wasn't. (I got my days mixed up.)
And then today, I thought it was the last day of leave, and guess what? It isn't.
Tomorrow is the last day.
"This is the leave that never ends," sang my husband, teasingly, "it just goes on and on, my friend!"
What a way to be serenaded in the morning, I tell you what.
Yesterday, we went ATV riding.
I offered to go, thinking it would be a nice, quiet little outing- or, as quiet as riding on a 4 wheeler enhanced by the deep throated rumble of a chrome exhaust could be- but, natually, it was not a nice, quiet outing.
Hundreds of the good citizens of Alabama and Georgia had also loaded up their four wheel drive machines and decided to tear up the tracks and get muddy on New Year's Eve.
There were mud slicks full of yellow, glossy water, shirtless country boys with rubber boots riding on stripped down lawn mowers, small children on tiny ATVs making circles in the parking lot and country girls with high heeled cowboy boots and string shirts watching the mayhem in the mudpit, where jacked up trucks were vying for glory in the churning waters.
The trails were full of entire families travelling in packs, radios strapped down to the handle bars and coolers on the back. Other families had set up camp on huge car trailers over looking the mud pit, a row of camp chairs unfolded, beer cans and sun glasses in use.
They all whooped and hollered when some poor fool in a monster truck got stuck. Huge sprays of mud were whirled up, glistening, in the air, as the massive tires spun in the muck.
Country boys stood on their hoods and watched, shouting advice in their slow, southern drawel, or sludged through the pit, high deep in mud, to inspect the engine and see what they could do.
It was something to see, alright. Keith was in his element; he was as excited as a school boy. His face lit up with joy as soon as he saw the crouds. I got soaked and mud splattered with the best of them, and ate French fries from the venders and wore Keith's ball cap.
We left around four in the afternoon- one can only imagine the mayhem that must have occured as evening fell across the mud slick trails in the back woods of Alabama, on New Year's Eve, under the headlights of a hundred ATVs, side by sides, razors, dune buggies and Jeeps.
That was yesterday.
Yesterday night, around eight o'clock, I couldn't stay up any longer. I took myself to bed to rest until midnight. I was woken up at 11:42 by an exuberant husband who made me the strongest screwdriver I have ever attempted to sip.
I sat down on the sofa, feeling about seventy years old, and was hit in the face by the barrage of New Year's mayhem at Time's Square, NYC. Even filtered through the television screen, I kept wanting to recoil.
The neighbors let of scores and scores of fireworks in the cul-de-sac. The bitter smoke drifted into through the loose windowsills and made me wonder if the house had caught on fire, as I stood in the dark kitchen, getting a glass of water.
This morning, the tarmac is scattered with tattered pieces of paper and ends of string. It's a cloudy, dull day and the sounds of the television seep around the edges of my ear phones.
Maybe the sun will come out tomorrow. In the meantime, a chorus from Les Miserables is echoing in my head:
"One more dawn, One more day, One day more!"
Oh dear, sweet Army-
Reclaim your errent soldier and native son, and put him to the honorable tasks for which you have so admirably fit him, and which is so suitable to his nature.
Return him to me in time for dinner.
Sincerely yours,
his loving spouse,
Mrs. Indiana
P.S. Please find enclosed all his gear.
The Christmas tree is down, and in its place is the treadmill- and so the new year begins.
I am worn out- just worn right the heck out. I have had a great deal of blog material, but just no time or peace to pull my thoughts together.
Yesterday, I thought it was the last day of leave, and it wasn't. (I got my days mixed up.)
And then today, I thought it was the last day of leave, and guess what? It isn't.
Tomorrow is the last day.
"This is the leave that never ends," sang my husband, teasingly, "it just goes on and on, my friend!"
What a way to be serenaded in the morning, I tell you what.
Yesterday, we went ATV riding.
I offered to go, thinking it would be a nice, quiet little outing- or, as quiet as riding on a 4 wheeler enhanced by the deep throated rumble of a chrome exhaust could be- but, natually, it was not a nice, quiet outing.
Hundreds of the good citizens of Alabama and Georgia had also loaded up their four wheel drive machines and decided to tear up the tracks and get muddy on New Year's Eve.
There were mud slicks full of yellow, glossy water, shirtless country boys with rubber boots riding on stripped down lawn mowers, small children on tiny ATVs making circles in the parking lot and country girls with high heeled cowboy boots and string shirts watching the mayhem in the mudpit, where jacked up trucks were vying for glory in the churning waters.
The trails were full of entire families travelling in packs, radios strapped down to the handle bars and coolers on the back. Other families had set up camp on huge car trailers over looking the mud pit, a row of camp chairs unfolded, beer cans and sun glasses in use.
They all whooped and hollered when some poor fool in a monster truck got stuck. Huge sprays of mud were whirled up, glistening, in the air, as the massive tires spun in the muck.
Country boys stood on their hoods and watched, shouting advice in their slow, southern drawel, or sludged through the pit, high deep in mud, to inspect the engine and see what they could do.
It was something to see, alright. Keith was in his element; he was as excited as a school boy. His face lit up with joy as soon as he saw the crouds. I got soaked and mud splattered with the best of them, and ate French fries from the venders and wore Keith's ball cap.
We left around four in the afternoon- one can only imagine the mayhem that must have occured as evening fell across the mud slick trails in the back woods of Alabama, on New Year's Eve, under the headlights of a hundred ATVs, side by sides, razors, dune buggies and Jeeps.
That was yesterday.
Yesterday night, around eight o'clock, I couldn't stay up any longer. I took myself to bed to rest until midnight. I was woken up at 11:42 by an exuberant husband who made me the strongest screwdriver I have ever attempted to sip.
I sat down on the sofa, feeling about seventy years old, and was hit in the face by the barrage of New Year's mayhem at Time's Square, NYC. Even filtered through the television screen, I kept wanting to recoil.
The neighbors let of scores and scores of fireworks in the cul-de-sac. The bitter smoke drifted into through the loose windowsills and made me wonder if the house had caught on fire, as I stood in the dark kitchen, getting a glass of water.
This morning, the tarmac is scattered with tattered pieces of paper and ends of string. It's a cloudy, dull day and the sounds of the television seep around the edges of my ear phones.
Maybe the sun will come out tomorrow. In the meantime, a chorus from Les Miserables is echoing in my head:
"One more dawn, One more day, One day more!"
Oh dear, sweet Army-
Reclaim your errent soldier and native son, and put him to the honorable tasks for which you have so admirably fit him, and which is so suitable to his nature.
Return him to me in time for dinner.
Sincerely yours,
his loving spouse,
Mrs. Indiana
P.S. Please find enclosed all his gear.
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