Ordinary Miracle

Anyone who knows me even a tiny bit, knows my intense love and appreciation for the gift of nature. This Christmas my husband gave me my most favorite gift, perhaps of all time, the lyrics to Sarah McLachlan's (a favorite artist of mine), Ordinary Miracle song. The lyrics are posted below, but if you have time time listen to the song, click on the link. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Urv7tyeJ7qE

Ordinary Miracle
It’s not that unusual
When everything is beautiful.

It’s just another ordinary miracle today.

The sky knows when its time to snow,

Don’t need to teach a seed to grow.

It’s just another ordinary miracle today.

Life is like a gift they say

Wrapped up for you everyday;

Open up and find a way

To give some of your own.

Isn’t it remarkable?

Like every time a rain drop falls,

It’s just another ordinary miracle today.

Birds in winter have their fling

But always make it home by spring.

It’s just another ordinary miracle today.

When you wake up everyday

Please don’t throw your dreams away;

Hold them close to your heart

Cause we’re all a part

Of the ordinary miracle.

Ordinary miracle

Do you want to see a miracle?

ohh ohh ohh, ohhh ohh ohh...

It seems so exceptional

That things just work out after all.

It’s just another ordinary miracle today.

Sun comes up and shines so bright

And disappears again at night.

It’s just another ordinary miracle today.

ohh ohh ohh, ohh ohhh ohh...

It’s just another ordinary miracle today.

Is Truth Subjective?

My family, extended as well as immediate, is complied of a variety of religious beliefs as well as varying degrees within the same belief. We’ve got the Catholics, the Baptists, the Methodists, and the “holy-Rollers”. Then we have Agnostics, who believe there is no God and New Agers, who see God in everything and everyone. And recently the Mormon religion has had an influence on part of my family. There are so many beliefs within one family that anyone looking our way, trying to make heads or tails of what is truth would be gravely disappointed. Over the years I have heard people refer to the way they live and believe morally as “their truth”. Their truth, my truth…Isn’t truth just truth? Is it really something, like beauty; that is held within the eye of the beholder?

If you don’t believe the Bible is infallible, what or whom do you base your beliefs? Is there any one constant, other than God, to which truth can be based? How have you proven God to be non-existent? How have other’s influenced “your truths”?

As children, we take our parent’s word as truth. Their beliefs become our beliefs. I followed my parent’s model into Christianity from early on, but as I grew I needed to dissect those beliefs. I needed to go back to the basics, stripping away other’s influences, other’s interpretations and ask myself if I really believe what I read. Honestly, some things I read seemed extremely far-fetched. Some things scared me to death and others made my heart race with anticipation to know the God I was reading about. In the end, I had to ask myself, do I believe this book to be true? And by faith, (this is huge!!!) as a grown woman outside my parent’s influence and outside the church's influence, I embraced God as truth. I know you’re asking, “her truth?” At the risk of coming across legalistic, No, truth period.

Every person comes to their own conclusion for what they choose to believe, choose to worship, choose to have faith in and dedicate their lives to. Not everyone will choose the same route. But truth is truth. Half truths are all over the place. They tell you what you want to hear. They’re glamorous and exciting.

We’ve all told a story, given an account of something, but left out parts to make it sound more interesting or in hopes to be accepted. We leave out parts that are not so popular, or parts that may paint us in a negative light. Deep down we know we’re not telling the whole story. In a very real sense we have not told the truth. Truth is truth. It is the whole story: the parts that seem far-fetched, the parts that scare us as well as the beautiful parts. God wanted us to have the whole truth, that’s why the Bible is a mixture of the good, the bad and the ugly.

Accept it, don’t accept it: your choice. But don’t tell me there isn’t one truth. That’s like saying a white lie isn’t really a lie. Buck up, do the work. Dissect the Bible, ponder for yourself.

Sleepless Near Seattle

Usually I hate those nights when I just can’t seem to fall asleep. I close my eyes and try the counting sheep thing, to no avail. I open my eyes to see that an hour has gone by and I am just as wide-eyed as I was before. Last week I had one of these nights. Actually it was morning, it was 4am. I decided to get up, sit in “my chair” that faces my large picture window that I talk frequently of, that looks out over my gardens. Although the leaves are long gone and the trees are bare, the flowers with all the color gone, I am still as drawn to this place as ever. There’s a stillness here that resides year round, a peace that I can’t seem to find anywhere else, even in other parts of my own home. The beauty is still remarkable and I am once again awestruck by God’s tender, yet majestic creation.

4am the sky is darker than I have ever seen it. The stars so intensely bright they seem closer than I recall. So close, in fact, they seem touchable. I lean back in my chair, pull my blanket up to my chin trying to keep warm this freezing night in mid December and let my mind drift. It drifts where it never has before, to the night of the three wisemen following the bright star that led them to our newborn Savior, Jesus.

I have read and heard the “Christmas Story” countless times in my life but never once have I wondered what the trek to that stable in Bethlehem was like for them. I have focused so much on the outcome of the story, picturing baby Jesus in a smelly old stable and Mary and Joseph cradling their beautiful son. I've wondered what they talked about that night. I've wondered what fears, hopes and dreams they had for Him, knowing that He was their son and at the same time their Savior. I can’t really begin to imagine, except to say I would have been a blubbering mother…so honored, so proud, yet so fearful for what would come a short 33 years later: His death and resurrection. But this night, I thought about the wisemen, specifically about the star they followed.

Matthew 2:2 refers to the star the three wisemen followed as “His star”. How was it set apart from the other stars in the sky? Was it brighter, bigger… Did any other shepherds watching over their flocks see it too? If so, I wonder why they didn’t follow it too and if they did, why aren’t they mentioned in the story? Did they think they were disillusioned due to lack of sleep? These questions forced me to be more alert than I would have hoped at 4am.

I pulled out my Bible rereading the account of that very night in both Mathew and Luke. I was unsatisfied with the information left. I wanted to know more. I’m a detailed girl, you know. A few words from those passages have lingered in my mind since that sleepless night. Words like: “sign” and “His star”. Digging deeper that night, to understand their importance brought such a quickening to my heart which, in turn, caused me to spend the remaining hour of that evening, praising the Lord! (What a way to begin the day!)

The Greek meaning for the word “sign” means “the finger marks of God, valuable not so much for what they are as for what they indicate of the grace and peace of the Doer.” Oh that the Lord would tenderly, eloquently, mercifully reveal his fingerprints to us in such remarkable ways. The story of the wisemen following the star to the birthplace of our Savior is incredible in itself and certainly isn’t just a story to be read and pondered during the Christmas season. It also points out that sometimes in the contrast of the night, we can best see the glory of God. The difference from feeling as if you can reach out to touch the stars, partaking in such glory on a crystal clear night is the fact that you actually can. Allow yourself to be consumed by the glory of God, by the invisible hand that placed the stars in the sky. It’s easy to be consumed by the “sign” itself…that’s where we make the mistake. Inhale His glory deeply, let it wash over you and enjoy the gift you have been given.

First Corinthians 13: Christmas Version

Christmas is my most favorite times of the year. I truly get caught up in the wonder of it all. The lights that hang on most houses and store fronts, Peppermint mochas, the smell of cookies in my oven, decorating the tree, the tradition of our family dinner and walking "Snow Flake Lane", the snow, the shopping... What's not to love?

Several years ago I came across this Christmas rendition of 1 Corinthian's popular "love chapter". I keep it tucked away with my Christmas decorations, so that I am sure to see it and hopefully heed it's reminder each year; as I, like most of us, tend to easily be swept up in the things of Christmas not in the Who of Christmas.

If I decorate my house perfectly with plaid bows,

strands of twinkling lights and shiny balls,

but do not show love to my family,

I am just another decorator.

If I slave away in the kitchen,

baking dozens of Christmas cookies,

preparing gourmet meals,

and arranging a beautiful adorned table at mealtime,

but do not show love to my family,

I am just another cook.

If I work at the soup kitchen,

carol in the nursing home,

and give all that I have to charity,

but do not show love to my family,

it profits me nothing.

If I trim the spruce with shimmering angels

and crochet snowflakes,

attend a myriad of holiday parties

and sing in the choir's cantata,

but do not focus on Christ,

I have missed the point.

Love stops the cooking to hug the child.

Love sets aside the decorating to kiss the husband.

Love is kind, though harried and tired.

Love doesn't envy another's home that has coordinated Christmas china and table linens.

Love doesn't yell at the kids to get out of the way, but is thankful they are there to be in the way.

Love doesn't give only to those who are able to give in return, but rejoices in giving to those who can't.

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never fails.

Video games will break,

pearl necklaces will be lost,

golf clubs will rust...

But giving the gift of love will endure.

You can give without loving

but you cannot love without giving.

Merry Christmas!

A Different Kind of PDF

A few years ago a friend of mine was telling me about an experiment she regularly orchestrates while speaking at Christian retreats. I doubt I’ll ever forget her findings, as I find an odd comfort in the realization that I am not struggling solo in corporate worship.

The Experiment: The first evening, of a two night retreat, as the women worship, praising, giving thanks, lifting up prayers through song, she quietly, inconspicuously observes them from the back of the room. She tells me it looks much like what you see on Sunday mornings. Some women stand, raise their hands and sing loudly. Others clasp their hands in front of them while singing. Others close their eyes, some bow their heads…you get the idea. When she takes the stand to begin the evening’s teaching, she mentions nothing of what she’s witness.

The second evening, she asked each woman to wear a blind fold during the time of worship. The women do. What she observed was drastically different from the night before. While a few women appear to wrestle with this idea, most appeared to embrace a freedom that in my friend’s opinion was stifled the night before by their consciousness of other’s roving eyes. Some fall to their knees, bowing low to the floor in reverence for our Lord. Some of the women that stood, hands clasped the night before were raising their hands, heads lifted up and singing boldly. Some sat with open hands on their laps, taking in the beautiful, serene voices of the women that surrounded them.

According to my friend, the difference between the two evenings was the level of authenticity. Because the women felt safe on the second night, there was a freedom to worship genuinely, in their own style. Of course, this is not to say that the women the first night were not genuine in their worship. It is to point out that many women struggle worshiping when there is a chance of being watched and perhaps judged.

Public Display of Faith. (PDF) My witty husband coined this phrase last week as I once again shared my struggle with worship. I worship completely different when I am in my home or alone than I do when I am in church. In church I feel restricted. I feel restricted because I care entirely too much what others think. Therefore, I worship quite conservatively. I know this stems from past experiences. And although I wrestle with this inconsistency, this genuineness, this being true to who I am as a Christian woman, I am unable to overcome this spiritual binding.

I grew up in a conservative Baptist church. Clapping was taboo. Dancing would have you gotten you stoned to death. (OK the later isn’t quite true, but almost!) I remember once when I was in high school, my youth group friends and I started clapping to a song that we, the congregation, was singing. No one else clapped. We tried to appear confident in our choice of worship, but as all eyes (no exaggeration) peered intensely at us, my insides withered significantly.

I’ve also witnesses people who worship boldly in church but in their day to day lives rival some of the most hateful people I’ve ever come across. Granted, who am I to judge their worship but the inconsistency grieves my heart so much that I am scared that I would come across much the same way as those who I’ve condemned in my heart. So I wrestle.

I openly wrestle in front of my daughters. I wonder if I am living up to my role as their mother. I know my responsibility is to raise them to know the Lord that I love so dearly and yet I wonder if my wrestlings will cause them to feel restricted in some way. I pray that the Lord will continue to grow my heart and help me to be true to Him no matter where I am worshipping. I pray for my daughters...that they would be unabashed in their worship, that my wrestlings would not hinder them.