Thankful

Calf length fur coat, oversized costume jewels and deep black curls that framed an aging beauty. Her disposition graceful and her words soft, but it was her smile that drew me in. It was a crooked smile lined with bright red lipstick that held a sadness that the bystander might miss. Her deep brown eyes revealed a shame, as they look downward and off to the side as she humbly asked for a half a piece of pecan pie. She didn’t want to appear greedy. She didn’t want to impose. She wore her best clothes, maybe her only clothes and tried to blend in. She held on to the bit of dignity she had left and tried to pretend that it didn’t bother her. She sought coffee for those around her and served them with that smile. She engaged in polite conversation, nodding and smiling as she listened to others share their stories. She cared deeply and the occasional sparkle in her eyes told me that she was listening to more than their words, but to their hearts. How a woman with such tenderness, such mercy, such inner beauty, could end up here, at a banquet for the homeless, was more than I could fathom. Handing her a half slice of pecan pie, I wanted to ask but I didn’t dare. I felt it would have been an intrusion of her privacy. Perhaps it would have brought to light what she was desperately trying to conceal.

As I swept the floor as people ate in an adjoining room, I thought about the people I had the opportunity to serve this night. How I expected them to be drug users, dirty and smelly, maybe even rude or aggressive. Sure, I saw some of that, but so much more than that, I was touched by the humanity. I was touched by the need. I was touched by the humbleness. As I swept, I kept thinking how I wanted to give everything I had. I wanted to give my best… I wanted to sweep the best I could, I wanted to scrub the counters the best I could because it was all I had this night…my service. Before I finished my task, I could not help but to stop, wrap an extra piece of pecan pie for the woman with black curls, and hug her tightly. I am sure I startled her for she said nothing but before she left she came into the kitchen and thanked me as she made a gesture to where she was sitting. I smiled and with tears in my eyes said, “Happy Thanksgiving Precious”. I did not want to leave. I got in the car and said to my family, “This is something we have to do”. Though I was referring to serving the homeless, I also meant that we have to serve others as Christ would…with a willing heart that sees others for who they are, not what they have.

We do not know the impact we have on someone’s life. But we do know we are not making a positive impact if we are not doing something. My cup is full and it has nothing to do with what I have or have obtained but because of Who I belong to and the heart in which He enables me to serve. I am thankful for my precious Savior.

People Pleasers Anonymous

Since my Daddy passed away almost two months ago, there hasn’t been a situation that I haven’t filtered through thoughts of, what would Daddy say if he could see this? I wonder if he would be proud of me, I wonder what advice he would give me. There have been moments when I find myself talking aloud to him while working in my gardens. There have been times I hug pictures of him and plant my kissed finger to his framed image on my desk. It is not uncommon to revere our loved ones once they have passed, idolize them even. However, after much reflection these past weeks, I have come to the realization that I do this all the time. I seek man’s approval. I work hard with the expectation that it will be noticed, admired and therefore led to being liked…loved even. Without a doubt, I am a people pleaser. And if I’m being honest, I have to admit that I struggle constantly with believing that God is enough for me…that His approval is all I need…and the fact, that I already have His approval, His love at no expense to me.

It’s been interesting…this reflection period for me. I wrote a few weeks ago about the simple life my Dad led, that he valued things not of earthy value but that of relationships with others. He worked harder than anyone I know or have ever known as a custodian and before that, a dairy farmer. He did not work hard however to earn approval of man. He had it though because he was true to who he was…the beloved son of the Most High. If I were to attempt to compile a list of why I love my Dad, it would not contain a single thing that he did, but rather a list of who he was a man. Think about that for a moment. If you were to make your own list of why you love someone, what would that list look like? I bet it would be a list of their characteristics, not a list of things they do for you or ways in which they have earned your favor. I wonder therefore, why I work so hard to earn approval from man.

Realizing this, I wonder then if it possible for me to live within relationships out of gratitude for the ceaseless, unwarranted gifts that are continuously showered upon my life without feeling as though I need to give back or continue to work to maintain such love and devotion? When I really think about what I am doing when I act in this manner, I am really saying, “I not enough on my own. You won’t love me, respect me, or value me if you knew me only for my character”. I do this with people. I do this with God. In a very real sense I am saying as Henri Nouwen writes in Home Tonight (2009), “Watch me, God, and see how much I am working for you. Don’t you think you should finally love me?” It deeply grieves me that I do this, that I believe I have to deserve love. Viewing this lesson through the loss of my Dad, through the realization that I am still trying to please my Dad through works, when I know with certainty he loved me for me… not because of what I achieved, I can plainly see the madness in which I live and the meaninglessness of it all. I can practically see my Dad; head down, working his jaw as he often did, and with tears in his eyes as he tells me that it hurts his heart to think I have to deserve his love. He would say,” I love you, period!” Christ tells us the same thing and proved His love for us on the cross…before we had a chance to earn it.

Because of this lesson, this gift of many, I desperately desire to live intentionally from the place in which I can say, “Oh Father, thank you for gifting me with life and with unconditional love, a love that comes freely…without work, without obligation…for loving me for me”. Without a doubt, this is the path to greater freedom and intimacy with the Lord. It does come at an expense however, for we cannot seek the approval of man and God simultaneously, for the two do not seek the same things. Set your heart on things above Beloved and relish in the free gift of Love. I choose to claim this Love (First Love: see prior post), independent of what I do, what I have, or what others think of me.

Abba, I pray that you help me to live life as your beloved daughter, that I will live to a higher calling and not seek the approval of man, but to relish in the unconditional gift of your sacrificial love. Dear Lord, I thank you for the example of my Daddy and the lessons you continue to teach me through his life. I am eternally grateful and humbled by your love and devotion to me.

"Am I now trying to win the approval of men, or of God? Or am I trying to please men? If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a servant of Christ". Galatians 1:10

Wasted No More

The truth is the majority of people are wasting their lives. And I admit I have wasted most of mine. We spend time looking for fulfillment in an array of ways only to realize we put our hope into the wrong thing…again. The new job, the new friend or new car or home may bring a temporary happiness, which many, perhaps most, misconstrue as fulfillment… but happiness is not the same thing as fulfillment. Happiness fades, true fulfillment doesn’t.

My Dad was a man who lived humbly. He was a dairy farmer for the first half of his life, then a custodian. He didn’t care about worldly possessions, but the ones he had he counted as blessings…gifts from the Lord and would have readily given them up to help someone in need. To the world looking in, he would appear to be a regular Joe, a man who perhaps didn’t achieve as the world pressures. He did not chase after the mighty dollar; he did not seek after prestigious positions, or dress to impress. He was meek, dedicated to his work, devoted to his family and friends and eagerly looked forward to helping others. He longed for little and gave everything. He was humble. He was sacrificial. He was fulfilled. He did not live to the world’s standards and it didn’t bother him for he did not strive to look like the world.

At his memorial service this week, where over 450 people attended, I heard countless stories of how my Dad touched their lives in remarkable ways…mostly through his attitude and his servant hood. As someone who knew his heart well, I can say I believe he had the right idea about life for he was a man fulfilled, longing to bring glory to Jesus in everything he did. He did not waste a single day…not one! If my Dad were to read these words, he would shake his head and with tears in his eyes say, “No Beloved, I have barely scratched the surface of living a life worthy of the calling”. “The calling” that he would refer to is a life basked in the hope of Jesus.

As I have spent much time reflecting these past weeks since my Dad passed away, I have been reminded that life is not about mastering or attaining many things, like the world reflects; it is about being mastered by one great thing! My Dad’s life counted for something eternally…I want to be consumed by that same fire and not waste another second of my life!

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind” Matthew 22: 37

I love you Dad and am hugging you in my heart...forever!

Naked

I have not written more than research papers for the past year and though I have enjoyed the challenge that it in and of itself has brought me, it has also left a deep longing to write about matters of the heart, to share my thoughts, and my wonderings openly as I continue in this journey, this relationship with Christ that often causes an inner wrestling as I struggle to know Him more intimately as Father, as Savior, as Friend... It is with deep joy and gratitude that I write today.

Naked

If everything I do, everything I have, and everything that people say that I am were stripped away what would remain? Without these attributes that the world has assigned me… that I have work so hard to achieve, who am I? Is it enough to be the chosen daughter of the Most High?

I have been reading an amazing book titled “Home Tonight” written by Henri J.M. Nouwen. In it he describes first love and second love. First love is the love given to us by our Heavenly Father, who loves us unconditionally…before others knew or loved us, before we were anything, before we did anything. Secondary love is the love which comes from our parents, friends, and family…and even at its best; it is only a modified version of the first love. As I read this, I had two thoughts. First, I wondered if all mankind interchange these two loves. Meaning, I wonder if we expect “first love” from those who are limited in their ability, broken and flawed…and no matter their efforts are only capable of second love. At the same time, I wonder if we view God as the one who will turn His back on us. This may seem like a bit of a stretch, but perhaps we expect more from people than we expect from God, which makes me wonder, what do I expect from God, if anything at all?

Personally, I have sought out large parts of my identity from others. I look to my co-workers to acknowledge my patience and positivity. I look to my husband to show me my beauty and humor. I look to my parents (even at the age I am) to tell me I’m OK and that I am on the right track. I look for approval. “The world tells you; ‘you are what you do, so do something relevant. You are what you have, so get busy and acquire all you can. You are what others think of you, so act properly and gain respect’” (Nouwen, 37).

I wonder again, as I read through this short list of expectations, if I could leave them, not engage them and live a life simply as the Beloved’s daughter, chosen and loved simply because…because He wanted me. Can I accept that I am enough for Him without having to earn it? Am I enough? Can I stop looking to the world for approval, for my identity? Can I find solace in knowing I am His? Can I reach the point where I no longer need another person to tell me who I am or give me an identity?

Desperately, my heart wants to cry out, “Yes! Yes, it is enough to be His

Whispers In The Wind

Earlier this week while driving home from work, thinking about the day’s events, I was taken aback by the instant beauty that surrounded me: a sun break in the midst of grey skies, so glorious, so bright, so full of promise and hope. Bare tree limbs sprinkled with buds of promised flowers, color, and leaves. Clusters of purple crocuses and bright yellow daffodils randomly planted beside the road’s edge. Two eagles circling overhead whose wings I never did see flap. How do they soar so high, for so long, so gracefully, my mind wondered? I realized my thoughts had shifted gears and I was focused on the glory of God. It seemed to radiate from every nook and cranny as I drove towards home. I paused for a moment at the stop light and in humble gratitude, praised Him for the gifts He bestowed on me…not the gift of nature per say, but the gift of revealing to me a part of who He is. Beauty, Majesty, Creator , Lover, Savior… Oh my heart is full!

Experiencing Jesus is what it means to know Him. Yes, I can read all about Him and learn plenty. Reading the accounts of those in the Bible, especially Paul (whom I relate to a little too much perhaps) are encouraging without a doubt. They offer incredible insights. The value of the Bible is unmatched by all the material possessions in the world to me. However, when my daughter asked how will the people in third world countries, who don’t have Bibles, know about Jesus, I have to believe more than the Bible is necessary for knowing God. I believe fully it is about experiencing Him.

As for us who rely on the Bible alone to know God, I say don't be content in words alone. However powerful, however insightful the words are, they are not God. I know many people who come mighty close to worshipping the book itself. Let yourself be moved through the words into the arms of Christ. Let the words inspire you, set your mind on course, and help you know about God. But don't miss Him while you're reading!

Brennan Manning, my most favorite author writes, “In Hebrew and Christian scriptures, knowledge is felt, it arises from an experience of God in faith and love rather than from human investigation.” Experience is essential to knowing Jesus. If I think back to all that I truly understand about Jesus, I believe most of what I know to be true came from what He revealed to me in my times of struggle and/or reflection. I don’t know how to explain scripturally what I know personally…It’s all rooted in faith and backed up by the infallible Word of God. Not a blind faith as many skeptics say, but a faith I trust in because I have seen God’s glory in my own life.

So, I say to my 9 year old daughter who asks about the people in third world countries, “God will show them His glory, they will experience Him, and like us, they will fall to their knees and worship Him as God.”

"A man can lay claim only to what is given him from heaven." John 3:27

In Search for Something Real

I sat at a table surrounded with eight kindergarteners today. I love this time of my day: being surrounded by innocence and giggles, wonder and awe. Today was no different. As I sat helping my charge, the sweetest girl with autism, I listened in on the conversation taking place between two “typical” boys. The conversation:

Oh my God!
Don’t say, oh my…you know
Why not?
Because it’s a bad word.
What if I say oh my Jesus, would that be OK?
No.
How come?
Cause we should talk nicely about Him. He is special.
Hmmm. I wonder who my Jesus will be when I grow up?

Interrupted at the worst possible moment, the teacher summoned the kids to the front of the room for the next lesson. I wondered what the little boy would have said. What would I have said if I were this boy?

My mind has sifted through several of my own conversations within the last week; with the Christian turned agnostic, the Baptist turned Jehovah Witness, and the Shaman. Unsolicited, random and without knowing what personal truths I treasure in my heart, each of these people openly shared portions of their story with me. As I listened, I found myself wondering what made them decide on that specific religion or belief. When asked, not one of them paused for thought. Each said they were looking for something ... something real, something that would make them whole. They were in search of a Savior. They faced, as we all have, the question the five year old asked: Who will be my Jesus?

For us who are in relationship with the One true God, we scoff at first, thinking these people are so far off base, that perhaps they have been brain-washed. Maybe we write them off as a lost cause. But as I listened to their stories, I saw the pain in their eyes and heard sorrow in their words… real life, real pain. I found myself hurting for them, for the brutal journey they have taken to seek out a savior, a savior that will not save them. They grasped the first thing that sounded like hope. My heart breaks for them as I know they will not find contentment where they call their spiritual home. I weep as I know I have the answer and find I’m not sure how to go about sharing it with them in a way that will impact them for eternity.

I am haunted by the five year olds question. It is a question that leads people to believe there is more than one choice in Saviors. It is a question that leads to either great pain or great fulfillment. I pray that the Holy Spirit gives me the words to answer the unasked questions of these women He undoubtedly has brought into my life!

Grace Verses Tolerance

Several weeks ago while sitting in on a discussion of Chuck Colson’s book, The Faith, I became quite agitated. The evening’s discussion was broad in subjects but narrow in solution. Obama, gays and lesbians, abortion, varying religious beliefs, etc. You get the idea. These “hot topics” were discussed at length in relation to us as Christians. What were we going to do about these sins? How could we influence our society, our world and make an impact for Christ? Perhaps, we have all taken part in similar discussions to this one. However, this night I was caught off guard. What I heard in their words was fear, intolerance, bits of anger and self-righteousness. The discussion centered on how to debate and win a sinner over to Christ. This in itself isn’t a bad thing. In fact, learn your way around your Bible, understand what you say you believe and be prepared to defend it and share it in a very down to earth approach. Absolutely! But this was not the method discussed and encouraged. In fact, the discussion didn’t make it past the point of judging the sins of non-believers. (Ironically, we never discussed our own sins! And Chuck’s book would not support the way this group discussed his book. I am pretty certain of that!)

About an hour into this conversation and the inside of my cheek near numb from biting it to keep from spewing out a venomous remark, my resistance wore down. Choosing my words carefully, I said, “the problem I see with most Christians is the lack of grace they bestow upon non-believers or even other Christians who think slightly different. When our focus becomes more about the person’s sin than about the person we are not doing “it”, whatever “it” is the right way.” I’m sure you would not be surprised if I told you that silence fell over that room and not a single comment or rebuttal was made. The conversation carried on as if I had not spoken a single word. Perhaps I overstepped my welcome. Perhaps I struck a nerve. I don’t know. I do know it has led me to contemplate the difference between the Christian’s bad word: tolerance and the Christian’s misunderstood word: grace.

No matter how I look at these two words, there is an undeniable disconnect. The Christian’s loosely defined definition of tolerance, adapted from Chuck Colson’s book, says we are offended less and less by non-believers sins or life-style and that we cannot become more relevant to win over the hearts of pagans. We must stand firm in our faith, no matter the cost. Although I understand that there can become a point where truth is side stepped for acceptance of others, I believe deeply there is a place for tolerance. Intolerance sees the sin. Grace sees the person. And we love them anyway. I’ve tried to make this a more substantial argument in my mind, but it doesn’t need to be. Being tolerant of other people’s life style doesn’t mean we are abandoning our professed convictions. It doesn’t mean we’re saying it’s OK. It says, I accept you in spite it and I hope that you can accept me in spite of the plank sticking out of my own eye.

I’m reminded of Todd Agnew’s song: My Jesus. A few lines in the song read:

Cause my Jesus would never be accepted in my church
The blood and dirt on His feet would stain the carpet
But He reaches for the hurting and despised the proud
I think He'd prefer Beale St. to the stained glass crowd

The song paints a picture of who Jesus really is and who we have made Him out to be. ( Lyrics below). I wonder, with so much intolerance in the church, if our Jesus really would be accepted in our doors. Grieves my heart to think He might not.

We cannot show grace if we are not willing to endure (tolerate) each other.

Open the eyes of my heart Lord. Help me to see others as you do: lost and hurting, made in the image of your Son. Give me eyes of grace. Humbly, I beg to be your hands and feet, Dear Lord. Let me not shy away from the unknown, from my fears. Give me compassion, simple words to articulate Who you are. Help me to love like you love.

My Jesus
By Todd Agnew

Which Jesus do you follow?
Which Jesus do you serve?
If Ephesians says to imitate Christ
Then why do you look so much like the world?

Cause my Jesus bled and died
He spent His time with thieves and liars
He loved the poor and accosted the arrogant
So which one do you want to be?

Blessed are the poor in spirit
Or do we pray to be blessed with the wealth of this land
Blessed are they that hunger and thirst for righteousness
Or do we ache for another taste of this world of shifting sand

Cause my Jesus bled and died for my sins
He spent His time with thieves and sluts and liars
He loved the poor and accosted the rich
So which one do you want to be?

Who is this that you follow
This picture of the American dream
If Jesus was here would you walk right by on the other side or fall down and worship at His holy feet

Pretty blue eyes and curly brown hair and a clear complexion
Is how you see Him as He dies for Your sins
But the Word says He was battered and scarred
Or did you miss that part
Sometimes I doubt we'd recognize Him

Cause my Jesus bled and died
He spent His time with thieves and the least of these
He loved the poor and accosted the comfortable
So which one do you want to be?

Cause my Jesus would never be accepted in my church
The blood and dirt on His feet would stain the carpet
But He reaches for the hurting and despised the proud
I think He'd prefer Beale St. to the stained glass crowd
And I know that He can hear me if I cry out loud

I want to be like my Jesus!
I want to be like my Jesus!

Not a posterchild for American prosperity, but like my Jesus
You see I'm tired of living for success and popularity
I want to be like my Jesus but I'm not sure what that means to be like You Jesus
Cause You said to live like You, love like You but then You died for me
Can I be like You Jesus?
I want to be like my Jesus