To The Miserables: It's a Wonderful Life

     

     Christmas has come and gone and we hardly noticed it… because most of us were knocked out with the flu, just trying to survive. Our plan had been to go see Les Miserables on its opening night of Christmas. Instead, we were The Miserables ourselves. What with all the hacking of lungs, headaches, roller coaster fevers, chills, body aches, sore throats, sleepless nights…yep, I’d say we were definitely The Miserables.  We had a small get together on Christmas day with some neighbor friends before our symptoms came to a head. Yet, we were unable to get together with our family. In fact, my sister spent Christmas night in the ER with my two nieces, who had dangerously high fevers. Nothing went as planned or hoped for. The most wonderful time of the year was now curdled into the most miserable time of year: flu season.

     Every year, before we head off to our family Christmas destination, my husband and I make it a point to watch, “It’s a Wonderful Life.”  As we watched it two Fridays ago, George Bailey spoke to my soul.  The man had so many amazing ambitions, like travelling the world and going to college. But, due to many circumstances he wasn’t expecting, his life turned out a little differently. God must have been preparing me for what was to come this week.

     I grew retrospective of Holidays past when I watched the movie this year. While thinking of George Bailey’s failed attempt to pen his own life, I thought of Thanksgivings, Christmases, and New Years that did not go as planned or hoped for. Like the first Thanksgiving and Christmas we celebrated without my Dad. Those were really challenging and just didn’t feel right. Or the New Years Eve I was very ill with a respiratory infection that I had contracted on the move down to Nashville just the day before. Or even the New Year’s Eve that we spent with David in the ER for a serious lymph node infection just two days before we were to leave for Kenya. I remember being sick myself or having a sick family member on several Christmases in my childhood as well. Nope. Things did not go as planned or hoped for on those holidays. As the Narnians experienced, on those mishap holidays, it felt as if it would always be winter and never Christmas.

     Yet, oddly enough, with those dark, wintry memories, I have memories of things that simultaneously went right.  That first Thanksgiving without my Dad, the same month that he died, family members travelled up from way down south just to sit at the table with us and bring extra chairs to the table, so as to try to alleviate the pain from the empty chair that was present just a little. That Christmas, we did something totally different and went way down to the Sunshine State to surround ourselves with extended family. My Mimi even jumped at the chance to go eat at The Hard Rock Café with all of us in celebration of my sister’s 18^th birthday. That first New Year’s Eve in Nashville, we got to laugh with my in-laws and to kiss at 11PM rather than 12PM because the ball had already dropped in Eastern Time.  That New Year’s Eve spent in the ER, we had the most fun we have ever had on the holiday after being released at 11:30PM with our ravenous stomachs to go dine at an Italian restaurant, the only one open, where they passed out hats and kazoos to welcome in the next 365 days. And this Christmas day, though we weren’t able to be with our blood family, we were able to be with friends who share the same Heavenly Father as us and to rest for days. Rest is something we all take for granted. But, it is a gift indeed. The Lord gives sleep to those He loves (Psalm 127:2). He must have loved us a lot this week.

     Most of all, this Christmas, the busyness and exhaustion from making sure it was a perfect day were stripped away and replaced with the true meaning of Christmas: God with us. Through sleepless nights into restful days, God has whispered to us with His peaceful voice that we need not be afraid, because He is with us and that He has a good plan for our lives even through all of this.

    There’s a little George Bailey in all of us. Life is never how we plan it to be exactly. Along the way as some of our hopes and dreams are dashed, somehow, those things are made into something new, better, and more wonderful. I always dreamed of a tall, dark, and handsome husband. But, I only got one out of the three of those wishes: handsome. He’s not my dream come true, he’s better. Because He’s God’s dream come true for me.

    God has plans for us to make a difference. Like George Bailey, if we were given the chance to watch the reels of life without the presence of ourselves, we would realize that yes, the world would still keep spinning, but it wouldn’t be the same. While we wallow in the misery of our failed plans, sometimes, we fail to realize the profound impact that is occurring through us by simply being just where God intended for us to be all along.

     Are you the commander in chief of our nation? Probably not. Are you the heir or heiress to a crown in a regal land? Probably not. Are you the discoverer of the cure for diseases? Probably not. But I’ll bet you’re doing something every day like showing up to your cubicle or to mop floors or to the bedside of a sick patient or to help your child in some way or to teach a classroom full of students. And each day, if you have Immanuel with you, you’re somehow melting the ice out of someone’s heart and bringing the presence of Christ to a place where it was always winter and never Christmas. The drudgery of your mundane, monotonous life isn’t drudgery at all…instead, steadily, It’s a Wonderful Life. Make it count. Don’t overlook the wonder in the ever day tasks you face. Don’t overlook the beauty that is beaming from what you feel is your miserable lot in life.

     May all the days of your 2013 and every day after be…A Wonderful Life.

I Heard the Bells

     As the year 2012 is coming to a close, I can’t help but think back over the 365 days it has held. Life appeared to be in a rhythm for us the first six months. The very first day of the next six months, drums were beating all over the place and it seemed that no rhythm was to be found. Christmas has had me thinking of several folks in the Bible who had to move in a rush as we did, yet under much different circumstances.

     God brought us deliverance this year from unsteady employment. That is why we moved. He brought us to a great full time job with benefits for my husband.  Our prayers from the past two and a half years were answered by a call out of the blue offering him the position that moved us here. God provided every need for us during those long years and he also comforted us by letting us know that the season we were in would not last forever.   Two and a half years of feeling oppressed by the uncertainties of paychecks, God sent deliverance. I must say, though, that despite the wonderful circumstances we were moving to, I grumbled quite a bit along the way.

     Grumbling. That rings a bell. Remember the Israelites? After much oppression from Pharaoh and the Egyptians, God suddenly delivered them. He did it quickly and it was through a change of location. Just shortly after Pharaoh and his people begged the Hebrews to get out of town so their own people stop dying and having so many issues, God shuffled the feet of an entire nation of people across the dry ground He miraculously created in the middle of the Red Sea. The oppressors that chased them were engulfed by the waters He had held back and they were on the nation of Israel was on their way to deliverance. Just shortly after their moving process began, the Egyptians grumbled as they questioned Moses’ leadership and what God was trying to do for them. They even thought about going back to the land where they had experienced so much oppression. After they left the walls of water they had just tread through, the people began to whine about being thirsty and hungry. Of course they were hungry and thirsty. But God already knew that. There was no need for them to have a spirit of complaining-especially against the One who had delivered them.  Nevertheless God provided them with water and He also provided Manna and Quail every day.  I’m confident that there must have still been complaining after that because they ate the same thing every day for forty years. But eventually, God got them to their promised land.

     Well, Noah and his family, Abraham and Sarah, and many others moved quickly as well to experience deliverance from the Lord. But there’s one move in particular that ushered in deliverance for us all…the move of Mary and Joseph to a little town called Bethlehem. Life must have been in rhythm for Mary and Joseph earlier that year. Things were going so wonderfully. They were going to be married and start a family of their own. But one day, their plans were altered. Mary was pregnant with someone else’s child and they were not married. Talk your life being thrown out of every day rhythm. On top of it all, they had to pick up and move to Bethlehem at the whim of King Herod’s orders.  Yet, the Angel of the Lord told them both not to be afraid because God had it all under control. The rest of their days were filled with a new rhythm…the kind that comes from the drum of someone ushering in a king. Though sudden and treacherous, their move welcomed the exodus for all of mankind…the emancipation from sin and death.  Jesus was born. Deliverance was born.

     You would think after all that that Mary and Joseph could just stay put and let Jesus do His thing. But no, they moved suddenly again. Once again it was because of something to do with Herod- only this time it was because he was ordering that all boys under the age of two be killed. This time, they were fleeing back to the land that the Israelites had fled from: Egypt.  Just like the Hebrew Nation, though, Deliverance was with them all along. Eventually they did move again- to Nazareth. All sorts of prophecies were fulfilled along each move. And eventually, they got to their promised land where God the Father’s vow of salvation to all mankind, including the one who carried His Son in her womb was fulfilled. The Angels proclaimed that Deliverance had finally arrived, “ Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; He is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” (Luke 2:10-12)

     Isn’t it ironic that He saved His entire people once by leading them out of Egypt and then went back to Egypt when He came in the flesh? Perhaps it was to point us to the purpose that He entered our world in the first place: to deliver us.  What a brilliant and magnificent author The Word who became flesh is. “Moses answered the people, ‘Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today.” (Exodus 14:13)  Hundreds of years later, another message of deliverance was proclaimed to Joseph, “Do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give Him the name Jesus, because He will save His people from their sins” (Matthew 1:20-21).

     Do not be afraid. I tried to force myself to be reminded of this when I wore a bracelet the whole month of July this year that some dear friends had given me as a graduation present years ago. It has the words of Hebrews 13:5 inscribed upon it, “I will never leave you or forsake you.”  Deliverance lives in my heart but sometimes I blank out about that.  That’s probably why even though He has given me my own form of manna every day to remind me of His provision for all of my needs that I had such a difficult time leaving the location where we experienced the oppression of lack of employment for two and a half years.  He offers such grace when I am forgetful, though, and reminds me again that I needn’t be afraid. Throughout my entire journey, each time my heart has been troubled, He has reminded me of His presence. Sometimes He has to do it more frequently than others, just as He did for the Israelites and then at each move for Mary and Joseph, but He has promised each of us that He will be with us and whatever move we make at His leadership is for His glory and over all plan, which is good. All that manna we’ve been given that seems so bland and mundane leaves a taste of something delicious once we pick up and move to our own exoduses through His deliverance.

     As we eagerly await next Tuesday, let us not forget that the bells which rang the very first Christmas day were the sound of Deliverance Himself crying out to a world full of oppression that freedom had come to save the day. 

Showing Up

     Have you ever had someone show up that made all the difference in your day? Isn’t it the best when someone just makes your day by showing up or calling to tell you something that makes your heart smile? The other day, my sister-in-law called to tell me some cute stories about our niece and nephew. One of the things she told me was that my almost 2 year old niece had been carrying around a picture she found of us on their fridge and pointing to me saying, “Auntie Em! Auntie Em!” That made my day. It meant a lot that my sister-in-law showed up by calling to tell me that.

     I also received an email newsletter from a dear friend this week, who serves as a missionary along with her husband in Cambodia. She shared some of the challenges that they have been facing. One of the greatest struggles they have is loneliness. She said it would mean the world to hear from some of us in the States about our own lives. I need to write her back still, but I couldn’t help but think of the truth of Proverbs 25:25, “Like cold water to a weary soul is good news from a distant land.” Carrie and Mark long for someone to show up and encourage them by reminding them of the friendships they have scattered around the globe. 

     Showing up. That’s what is on my mind this week. It started in Sunday School…looking at Matthew 9. The part of our scripture passage that stood out the most to me was, “Jesus stepped into a boat, crossed over and came to His own town” (v.1). This was just before He healed a paralytic, called Matthew-the-tax-collector to follow Him, told the Pharisees what was up, raised a dead girl to life, healed a woman with the issue of blood, healed the blind and the mute, and reminded us that He wants us to help spread His good news. Wow. That is a snapshot of what Jesus’ routine was. If all that were left up to us alone, we’d fall over from exhaustion and discouragement because most of it wouldn’t even be possible. But the fact of the matter is, He showed up. That’s why those people’s days were made different.

     Jesus has a habit of showing up. He first showed up in the manger. God used the vehicle of the human form to come to us personally. As I skimmed through Matthew, I realized so many subtle words that remind us that Jesus was constantly showing up.

“Then Jesus CAME from Galilee to the Jordan to be baptized by John.” (Mt.3:13)

“Then Jesus was LED by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil.” (Mt.4:1)

“When Jesus heard that John had been put in prison, He RETURNED to Galilee.” (Mt.4:12)

“As Jesus was WALKING beside the Sea of Galilee, He saw two brothers, Simon called Peter and his brother Andrew” (Mt.4:18)

“Jesus WENT throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, preaching the good news of the kingdom, and healing every disease and sickness among the people.” (Mt.4:23)

“Now when He saw the crowds, He WENT UP on a mountainside and sat down.  His disciples came to Him, and He began to teach them.” (Mt.5:1-2)

“When He CAME down from the mountainside, large crowds followed Him.” (Mt.8:1)

“When Jesus had ENTERED Capernaum, a centurion came to Him asking for help.” (Mt.8:5)

“When Jesus CAME into Peter’s house, He saw Peter’s mother-in-law lying in bed with a fever.” (Mt. 8:14)

“When Jesus saw the crowd around Him, He gave orders to CROSS to the other side of the lake,” (Mt.8:18)

“Then He GOT INTO the boat and His disciples followed Him.” (Mt. 8:23)

“When He ARRIVED at the other side in the region of the Gadarenes, two demon possessed men coming from the tombs met Him.”  (Mt.8:28)

     The accounts of Him showing up continue. You can read the rest for yourself. But know this, Jesus predicted His death at least twice, yet HE STILL SHOWED UP at the place where He knew He would be arrested and taken to death. Being fully God and fully man, Jesus knew before His Father even sent Him to be born in a stable that the reason He would be coming was to suffer and die for things He didn’t do. But HE STILL SHOWED UP.  And after He was dead and buried in the tomb, which everyone expected to be His final resting place, HE STILL SHOWED UP and told death to go to Hell because He had conquered it.

     He has shown up for all of the world to see. He has shown up to meet our needs when we come to Him so as to make His Father’s name great. But most of all, He has shown up to redeem us…to get us back to the life of freedom that He intended for us to have.

     He showed up in my life early on and He’s been showing up ever since. He showed up in second grade to protect the lives of my mom, sister, and me in a terrible automobile accident. He showed up in Middle School when I felt like a total loser to tell me that He would always be my most trustworthy friend. He showed up in High School to give me a passion for the world. He showed up in the hospital rooms my dad frequented during his battle with cancer to tell me that it was for those tears trickling down our cheeks that He Himself died. He showed up when my husband lost His job to tell me that He owns the cattle on a thousand hills and that He would provide for all of our needs according to His riches. He showed up when we moved this year and reminded me that my true Home is with Him and I’ll never have to pack again when I move in there. He shows up every day to welcome me to the gift of life, whether it’s this life or the next.  Whether the events of my day are good or bad, He shows up.

     I can’t help but think of the brave Navy SEALS who showed up to capture Osama Bin Laden, one of America’s greatest enemies. They put aside their own safety to protect ours. They showed up to let terrorists know that they were there on behalf of all US Citizens to announce that they couldn’t mess with our freedom anymore. 

     Jesus did this on a greater level. He showed up to tell our greatest enemy that he couldn’t mess with our freedom anymore. Enough was enough. Death didn’t have the final word. Life Himself did.  He came to get our freedom back. And it all started when The WORD became flesh by showing up. Whatever our response is to His entrance into our world, our days can’t help but be different once He shows up.

Tying on New Branches to The Family Tree

     Family genealogy has become quite intriguing to me the past few years. We had a membership to ancestory.com for a few years and also became very interested in NBC’s show, “Who Do You Think You Are. I’ve been thinking about family lines a lot this week.  Tuesday would have been my parents’ 30^th wedding anniversary had my dad still been alive. I called my mom to wish her a happy anniversary because even though that day has changed in form, it is still a day to celebrate a very joyous and important marker in the history of our family. Contemporaneously, David and I are reading through the Christmas story bit by bit.  I took the first turn of reading a loud on December 1^st and warned David that he might just fall asleep because yes, I was going to read the genealogy of Jesus in Matthew 1.  As I read, several memorable names in His family tree reminded me of how important the stories of our families are.  The one that struck me with the most blunt force this time was Uzziah.

     A year or two ago I did a Beth Moore study that looked at Isaiah 6 in great depth. I remember making this connection back then, but the profundity of it struck me this week. In the line of Jesus through his earthly father, Joseph, King Uzziah is listed as one of His forefathers. I’m not an expert on King Uzziah, but I do know that the end of his life was memorable enough for it to be a part of Isaiah’s encounter with the Lord.  When he looked back over his life, Isaiah recalled the specific time when he met the Lord and realized that he was an unholy mess in the presence of holiness defined. “In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord…” (Isaiah 6:1a).  If you’ll recall, it wasn’t long before Isaiah was exclaiming, “Woe to me! I am ruined! I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty” (v.5). Yet, God chose to use that unholy mess named Isaiah to be a voice to tell the world about His Son.  The king who died the year that Isaiah met the Lord personally would be part of the family line that ushered in the King of Kings to the world so that the rest of us would have the chance to meet Him personally too.

     Have you met Him personally? If so, what or who is a marker for you? My marker is my mom, who not only gave me the gift of life, but also led me to the giver of life when I was four years old. God allowed her to be born into our family line not only to be a marker for the person who brought me into this world, but also to be His messenger as she told me the good news of God’s Son just as Isaiah did to his people. There are many markers past her, though, that made that day possible.  Those markers are wedding days. My parents’ wedding day on December 4, 1982 never would have happened if T.W. & Mary Helen Wilson and Glenn & Patricia Pereira hadn’t had their wedding days. Their wedding days wouldn’t have happened if Jesse Hooks hadn’t married Thomas Walter Wilson, Sr.; Helen Player hadn’t married Carl Sellers; Henrietta Rodgers hadn’t married Manuel Pereira; and Cecelia Tomulty hadn’t married Peter Francis Murray. Without their stories, my story would have never happened. The list continues beyond my knowledge, but Jesus’ list is astonishingly well preserved. But His list wouldn’t have been the same if the stories of the people in the line had not happened.  Suppose Ruth’s first husband had still lived? She and Boaz would have never given birth to Jesse, the father of King David. He was the pivotal person in the family lineage that many prophecies of Jesus the King were centered around.  God has filled in the blanks with most of the people in this lineage for us and given us great details for how He established His family tree. Even in the not so brag worthy skeletons in the closet, such as Rahab, the prostitute, He welcomed the drama of their lives to be a part of His story so that He could bring meaning and redemption to their stories.

     My Mimi has a plaque hanging on her wall that says it all when it comes to those that make up our family tree, “Families are like fudge: mostly sweet with a few nuts.” God used a bunch of sinners (aka nuts) and saints to establish the family line of Jesus. He’s used a bunch of sinners and saints to engraft me into the family line of Jesus too. The most beautiful part of all is the genealogy that is listed in Matthew 1 isn’t actually a bloodline to Jesus. (Remember, God the Father was the one who united with Jesus’ mother, Mary to conceive Him.) It’s the line of His adopted father.  God saw that Joseph was important enough in the life of His Son to list his entire family line to tell the story of how he came into the scene. Joseph was trusted to take care of Jesus while He walked this earth. But Joseph didn’t adopt Jesus. Joseph didn’t love Jesus because he was his wife’s first born. He loved Him because the triune God that Jesus is a member of loved him first. Jesus adopted Joseph. Jesus did the same for me. He chose me from the family line I was born into and adopted me into His own. Whether they intended to or not, all of those people in my genealogy were instrumental in getting me to Jesus by keeping the family line going and giving me the gift of life.  So, in the sixth year of my parents’ marriage, I saw the Lord for the very first time with clear vision. I realized what an unholy wreck I was and what perfection He was. And He adopted me into His family with a love for me that is far greater than the love I have to offer to Him in return. He adopted me with the same love that He sought His very first adopted family member with. I’m related to Him because of how He related to me. And thus, my name has been added to the genealogy of Jesus, just as Joseph’s was.

    We love Him because He first loved us.

Personal Christmas Greetings to My Ebenezers

     It’s December 2^nd and my days are numbered. I’ve got my Christmas Cards in hand, but not my traditional letter yet. I am notorious for running around in a tailspin trying to get the letters and cards together and out before December 25^th.  Almost every year that we have been married, I have nearly caused my husband to have to bring out his puffer because of the anxiety I create about getting these letters out. (I promise I’ll try not to give you an asthma attack this year, hunny!) I just am too committed (and stubborn) about carrying on this tradition of sending out our yearly testimony of how the Lord has worked in our lives to throw in the towel.  I finished reading Romans the other day and read Paul’s personal greetings in chapter 16. I couldn’t help but think about what it would be like if the letters I sent out at Christmas time could echo all the sentiments about the folks I send them to.

     It is no secret that I love to collect friends.  I’m blessed to have dear people all over the world that I am honored to call, “friend.” When reading Romans and other epistles before, I must admit that I have sort of skimmed through the opening greetings and closing greetings because it seemed sort of…too personal, I guess? But my heart was especially pricked this time when reading it because the Holy Spirit reminded me that, “ALL Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting, and training in righteousness” (2 Timothy 3:15). So, it is not a mistake that these personal greetings are in there.

     The people that he mentions and the descriptions he gives for why they are so important to him stir up all sorts of memories of people that have impacted my life in big and small ways that I appreciate so much.

     Right off the bat, I can relate to Paul’s opening greetings. He recommended that the church accept someone new to the area, a fellow sister in Christ, Phoebe. He asked them to receive her and make her feel welcome. People have done this for me in so many different ways. I grew up in the same, dear church, where my Dad was my Pastor my whole life until I went to college. When I visited Liberty University, we had a friend who told us to introduce ourselves to the Campus Pastor as one of his friends and ask him to show us around. He did and that’s a large reason I became a part of the Liberty body of Christ. Then, when we moved to Nashville, my mom got on the phone to call a friend who had lots of connections in that new-to-us city and through him we met a man who recommended four different churches to us. Judson Baptist was one of them and they welcomed us with open arms, helping us have a sense of roots in a place that had no familiarity to us. Here we are, back in Lynchburg, and of all people, my very first RA from Liberty has reached out to make us feel connected to the church family at Thomas Road Baptist.

     Paul moves on to talk of Priscilla and Aquila, who worked along side him and risked their lives for him and many other churches full of Gentiles. I think of missionaries we worked with in lands that are closed to the gospel who risked their lives to even be associated with the groups we travelled with as well as the churches that meet in their homes. Then, I also recall our driver in Kenya, who handled the safari like van with ease through the rickety excuses for roads and off road canyons all for the sake of allowing us to help spread the gospel.

    I can’t top his greeting to the first convert to Christ in the province of Asia, Epenetus. That sure is amazingly preserved history. I’m so glad we have that. However, I do remember the seeds of truth that God allowed us to plant and the relationships that grew from them on the same continent and others as well.  Isn’t it incredible that that first convert in Asia that Paul mentioned could possibly have left a legacy in spreading the gospel to his native people in a reach as far as this generation that we now live amongst?

    I appreciate the people Paul greets who worked hard for the Lord and His people such as Mary, Tryphena, and Tryphosa. I think of the sweet group of ladies and gentlemen who made up the kitchen committee at my home church that worked tirelessly behind the scenes for all those business luncheons, weddings, funerals, fundraisers, and other special occasions. I think of all the deacons at the churches that I’ve been a part of, who so graciously gave their time to help guide the church in important decisions. I think of the many Awana, GA/RA, and Sunday School Volunteers who invested in lives such as my own to disciple us. I think of the Pastors I have sat under, who are on call 24/7 to minister to those in and outside of the congregation. I think of the church staff members that have worked quietly to take care of day- to- day tasks to keep the church informed and to support its ministries in practical manners.

    Both blood and adopted family greetings are sent by Paul to Herodion, his relative, and Rufus’s mother, who was like a mother to him. There’s no denying that my own family near and far has made obvious and subtle impacts on my life, shaping into the person I am. I’ve been blessed with a Godly heritage. I’ve been doubly blessed with Godly adopted family, such as my five adopted grandmothers: Miriam, Grandma Lois, Mumsie, Sankey, and Mrs. Margaret. And then there are dozens of people I’ve called “Aunt” and “Uncle” through my life who have shown me living examples of how to live for Christ with patience, humility, and courage. David is still confused as to whom I’m really related to and whom I’ve adopted as family.

    Paul closes by giving a reminder that only Jesus can hold us all together and use us as vessels for bringing nations to Him for His glory. The same is true for us today.  All of the people that God has brought into my life are just common folks, who have surrendered their lives to Christ and invested their time and gifts to spur me on to do the same for others. Somebody had to tell Epenetus about Jesus so that others in Asia would hear of him. I wonder who the greeting would be addressed to if we saw the first convert today in some remote tribe that has never heard the gospel?  Could it have your name in the greeting? Could it have mine?  Those friends we collect along life’s journey are so much more than knick-knacks to line the shelves of our memories. They are ebenezers…memorial stones, which testify that only Jesus can hold us together, as common as we are, and give us the honor to be used as vessels for bringing nations to Him for His glory.  So when I postmark those Christmas cards and letters this year, my heart will be full of joy not only over what the Lord has done in our lives this year, but also for the many ebenezers that He has blessed us with to help make us the people we are today. And those ebenezers, my dear friends, are no scrooges. 

If Those Dishes Could Dish

     

     You’ll have to excuse my absence from the blogosphere last week. My hands were stuck inside the cavity of a turkey around its frozen neck in search of the bag of giblets. I came dangerously close to both throwing up and crying. After several desperate calls to my mom to ask what exactly I was looking for since the giblet bag was nowhere to be found, I ripped out what I believed to be the heart, took a picture on my phone, and sent it to her. When I received confirmation back that it looked like I got everything out that I needed to, I sighed a breath of relief and proceeded to lather Miss Lady Bird up before popping her in the oven for the duration of the next five and a half hours.  All sorts of pleasant aromas filled the house from that delectable fowl.  David’s family arrived and we pulled the turkey out to proudly display for pictures and then David began to carve her. Horrific chills ran through my body as he pulled me aside and asked, “What’s this?” The little bag I had scavenged for had finally been found. We quickly covered up my sin and brought the turkey around with no signs of distress on our faces, all while silently praying, “Dear Lord, please don’t let us all die.” My rationale for not pitching it all was the fact that some people cook their entire turkeys in bags on purpose and live through it just fine. None of us died. That’s something to be thankful for!

     As I gazed at the picture perfect settings (which will one day change, I’m sure, as soon as we have kids), and the gorgeous display of delicious food that my sister-in-law and I made (not to brag or anything), I caught many glimpses of my Mimi’s Dessert Rose dishes that she has passed down to me.  It meant the world when she gladly gave them to me as a wedding gift for my “china.” (They aren’t really china, just beautiful floral dishes. They are plenty fancy enough for me, though). Growing up, whenever we would eat a special meal at her house, my heart leapt with excitement when I saw we were eating on those plates.   Most fine Southern women have several sets of dishes and Mimi is no exception.   It's not a collection thing really, it’s more of a family heirloom thing.  Our family DOES have some hoarder tendencies, but things like these dishes are more than just plates, cups, and serving pieces that a group of people have squirreled away.  They are tangible memories that cross generations.

    When we sat down to eat, I gazed at seven of the family members that I have acquired over the past four and a half years eating off of my Mimi’s dishes.  My mind drifted to the many meals we shared through the years over those plates at Mimi and Granddaddy’s house with members of our family and dear friends.  If those plates could talk…they’d speak of so many moments that make up the portrait of our family.  The dishes would laugh over Granddaddy’s jokes and stories, prod the children to scoot their rims closer to them so they didn’t spill their food, sigh over the silly squabbles some of us would have, try to get a word in edge wise over all the loud mouths in the room, repeat the wisdom that Mimi and Granddaddy imparted to us all and mourn over the meals where empty chairs were present. 

     Our turkey was disassembled by a carving set my Great-Granddaddy Sellers gave to Great-Grandma Sellers one Christmas. The silver we used to devour our dinner belonged to my Great-Great Aunt Hazel, who saved her pennies for years to piece her set together.  Our goblets and other serving pieces were wedding gifts from various friends and family. My sister-in-law’s dishes have stories as well.  Though years and distance have passed from the meals that those dishes have adorned, we were connected across many generations to friends and family that God has woven into the fabric of our lives.  Who would have thought that when I grew up, I’d be sharing a meal with a new part of my family that came into my life through my husband over those same dishes, somehow making all sides of my family intersect.  So when I picked up my kernels of corn to list three things that I was thankful for, I thanked the giver of all good gifts for the many shapes and forms my family has. I think that’s what I’m most thankful for outside of God’s provision of salvation in my life…the family and friends that have created the memories centered around those dishes. 

     I added a new memory around those dishes this year, as we were lounging on the couches stuffing ourselves with one last piece of Thanksgiving dinner, our dessert.  I confessed about the bag of turkey giblets that I cooked and we all had a good laugh…and gag.

Bible Russian Roulette

     

    The past week has had me feeling pretty dejected and discouraged about life in general. A series of personal events on top of the elections have led me to a point where it is a struggle to feel too great about life and this world. I’ll be honest with you, I’ve felt a loss of words in my conversation with the Lord the past week and I wasn’t prepared to have Him confront me about that. Finally, I cracked open the Bible and ended the silence.

     I played Bible Russian Roulette…you know…how you flip open your Bible to whatever passage it falls on. Only this time, I was a little more directed in my game because I wanted something from Psalms…preferably one of those passages where David’s all like, “Lord, my enemies are all around me…save me…help me…smite them.” Instead, it fell open to Psalm 139.

     The thing that I’ve been most upset about with the outcome of the elections is the blatant support of the murder of millions of innocent lives through legalizing abortions.  The election of officials who are working so hard to bring such an evil thing into legalization just made me wonder why we should even bother. I know deep down that there are many points to life… chiefly to bring glory to God through all circumstances. I just get angry when a good life is so opposed. What is a good life? “He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8).

      I just can’t stop grieving about this. I think it’s because I’m getting older and realize the precious gift that life is.  These human beings are denied the opportunity of ever growing up to vote or to leave any kind of mark on this world.   For crying out loud…one of those babies could find the cure for cancer some day! Their voices are denied. Justice is denied. Mercy is denied. The opportunity for them to walk humbly with their God is denied. My journey to Psalm 139 reminded me of one of our strongest Biblical defenses against abortion as David divinely remarked, “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body.”

     So that’s the surface of what God wanted to show me through that passage. The rest was a much deeper investigation of what was going on with myself.  David (my David- not the Psalmist- ha!) gave me the assignment to write down five truths from God’s word that day. So, here’s what I came up with….

1. God already knows my thoughts, so I might as well talk them out with Him. (Duh.) I already knew that, but God saw fit to remind me in my stubborn silence…”Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord” (Psalm 139:4).

   2.  He wrote the book of my life before I was even born. I should realize that He has plans for each stage of my life and it’s not guaranteed to be a placid lake once a certain storm is calmed. It’s going to be an ocean with unexpected (to me) ebbs and flows. He knows how to handle all of them because He knows exactly what is coming and He’s the ruler of the seas…“If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast” (Psalm 139:9-10). “All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.”  (Psalm 139:16).  My crazy notions for how I plan for my life to go are totally unfounded. Sure, I have hopes, dreams, and goals. But all of those fall second fiddle to what God has penned in my life. If those ambitions happen to match the text of my pre-written life, then great. If not, I’ve got to recognize that He is the master planner of my life…not me. My life is a book, not a calendar. It is an intricately planned story in it that fits in with the volumes of all time that our Creator has already put in writing. That must be why they call it “penciling in” when referring to a calendar. Plans that we come up with are always subject to change. The stories we live are written in permanent ink.

   3.  Even when I die, one thing remains constant as I transition from this life to the next, He never stops  being with me. “When I awake, I am still with you” (Psalm 139:18B).

4.  He knows how I think, feel, and act…no sense trying to hide that from Him. There are tons of things   He is there to help me work through by His grace. “Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting” (Psalm 139:23-24).

   5.  My thoughts are not a surprise to Him.  “O Lord, you have searched me and you know me” (Psalm 139:1).

       So there you have it… Bible Russian Roulette at it’s finest. He struck me with these bullets of truth and killed my silence. The funny thing is, even in my silence, he searched me and knew me and drew me to Himself like He always does. I’m so glad that His right hand holds me fast no matter what sea billows roll into my life. And no matter what my reaction is to those tempests of life, He loves me anyway.  

Maps on Our Faces

     I always wonder what my appearance will like be if I make it to old age.  I gaze at pictures of my grandmother and mother and see how their looks have progressed since their youth. I look at pictures of my dad and wonder what he would have looked like if he lived longer.  More so, I wonder what he looks like now in his glorified body. I even look at pictures of myself and see how differently I look at this stage in life compared to my first years. I can’t imagine what I’ll look like by age 50 if I live that long. I just wonder. What differences will appear on my face?

     Each year when the ball drops, it seems like it'll be ages before the next year. By March or so, I start to realize that summer will soon approach. By September, I eagerly await October- my favorite month of the year. I always fool myself into thinking it'll last a long time since it has 31 days and all. But, the next thing I know, it's the most bittersweet month of my year, November. It makes me think back nine years to this very day, November 7th, when my Dad went to Heaven. I dread this day every year. I hate the mark of sorrow this day has on it, because we already experienced so much of that while watching his earthly shell be eaten by cancer. That's at the beginning of the month. At the end of the month, though, just as sure as God's promises that He's faithful and that joy comes in the morning, Thanksgiving comes and I reflect all the more on what I'm grateful for- salvation, restoration for that which was once broken, and ultimate healing. Suddenly, November seems like a great month after all because it's packed with gratitude, family, friends, and eager anticipation for Christmas. The excitement in the air for our family at least is in celebration of the presence of Christ in this world. That's a great note to end a year on...just before we start it all over again and face whatever may come in the next 365 days. 

   

 Without those moments of joy and sorrow, pain and pleasure, and sickness and health through the years, our faces would not be nearly as well defined. They would be untruthful masks to our inward imperfections. They would lack the beautifully weathered look of character.  The lines on our faces offer evidence to a journey’s map with streams of refreshment, deserts, deep valleys, vast oceans, long roads, and steep mountains we have passed. The legend of the map can be seen through the window of our eyes either by the dark emptiness that we possess from birth or from the Light of the World that we eventually invite inside. All in all, that’s how our appearance slowly morphs as we continue on this journey. Along the way, our appearance changes, whether drastically or subtly and moves us just a little closer to what we'll look like at the sunset of this life and the sunrise of the next. Upon that sunrise, the crusty maps of our weathered faces will be transformed into a stunning sculpture that has finally been completed by the glorious potter who formed us from clay on day one of the calendars of our lives. 

But rejoice inasmuch as you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you me overjoyed when His glory is revealed."

1 Peter 4:13 

Turn on Your Porch Light

Today is Halloween. As I sit here in my Mustard outfit beside our Hotdog dachsador waiting for Ketchup to get home, I can’t help but be reminded of an amazing thing called community. Every year we were in Nashville, we eagerly awaited Trunk or Treat night at our church. Hundreds of church members would deck themselves and their cars out to welcome folks from the neighborhood. It was always fun to see who everybody picked to dress up as. We saw everyone from Justin Beiber to Flo, the Progressive Insurance Lady, to paper dolls to Prince William and Princess Kate (that was us last year). This year, we are experiencing Halloween as adults in a different way. People will come to our home and we will hand out candy. But we will still be surrounded by community. God’s been reminding me a lot about His own community since moving to a new one.

When we moved here this go around, we were grateful that we still had a few friends and family left in the area, but were nervous about starting all over again. We are still in the beginning stages of getting re-acclimated, but we’ve already had people, who were perfect strangers to us just three months ago, reach out to make sure we know that there is a spot for us here in this conglomeration of people. You see, they were in the spot that we are just a couple years ago only they didn’t know anybody at all. When you’ve been at your loneliest, you start to be very aware of those that might just feel the same way you did once. Our sisters and brothers in the Lord who have gone out of their way to include us have given testimony that each believer fits in the body of Christ no matter who they are or where they come from.  Why is it so hard for the rest of us to remember that sometimes? Why do we treat people as misfits when they have a spot that was made for them to perfectly fit into?

I had lunch today for the first time with my Nashville Pastor’s sister, who lives just down the street from us. I texted her niece, my friend Marianne, and told her that their family’s hospitality just keeps on following us. A mutual friend connected us because she wanted me to know another wonderful member of the community of Christ in our area. It just so happens that when we first started visiting our church in Tennessee, Marianne was the very first person my age to reach out to me and make me feel welcome. A big reason why we ended up at our church there was because of the kindness of her family. In turn, we were able to be a part of a wonderful congregation of people who truly cared for each other and their neighbors. We may never have known the warmth of that church family if it hadn’t been for the hospitality of their family. Here we are again, only this time we are in Virginia experiencing a warm handshake from the same family- not just because they’re part of the same blood line, but because they’re all washed by the same blood.

Well, hotdog and I have had several batches of trick or treaters come in search of some tasty morsels. The lamps are lit to welcome them to receive a gift from a perfect stranger. I can’t help but wonder why so many of us let our hearts stay under lock and key when we have the chance to turn our porch lights on and warmly open up to masked or unmasked faces alike who are just looking for the sweetness of life.  Oh, the sweet name and love we have to share. As for me, I hope the porch light of my soul is always turned on as a welcoming gesture to let people know that there is a spot for them just like there’s one for me in the community of Christ.   

When Grace and Gratitude Collide

“Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good; His love endures forever.”  Psalm 107:1

“Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

Gratitude is something that the Lord is teaching me about during this season of my life. Sure, I am thankful for the things that He has done and given me. I even say, “Thank you,” to Him and tell others about how I am grateful for what He has done. But am I living in a spirit of gratitude? While looking up verses about thanks and gratitude in my concordance, I realized that another gr- word was close by: grace; graciousness. I love language. The History of the English language was my very favorite class in my undergraduate studies. (Even though it was a killer class!) So, my curiosity led me to google, of course. Please forgive the terrible works cited here. I’m pretty sure what I have found is reliable, though, based on my recollection from studying Martin Luther and language.

The root for gratitude comes from the Latin word, “gratus” - meaning, “thankful” or “pleasing.” The Latin root for grace is “gratia”, which means “grace” or “gratitude”. When exploring a little further about the word “grace,”  I consistently saw that it had a lot to do with having a pleasing quality, thanks, and pardon.  As I suspected, the two words and their meanings are very intertwined.

A couple weekends ago, I was really upset because the back up to our back up to our back up fall break trip fell through. I was desperate to escape our overly busy life and enjoy some quality time with my husband while embarking on an adventure.  My last nerve was struck when we found out that Plan C was foiled due to all the hotels being booked in that particular area because of a stinking home football game. So, to put it mildly, after some tears were shed, my more than gracious husband calmed me down and we came up with a plan D. I still had a little bit of an attitude and crushed heart when we rolled out of the driveway, but I figured at least we were together and getting away.

After dropping the dog off at his sister’s house, we set off for a drive on the Blue Ridge Parkway. Hunger pains were encroaching upon us, so we stopped at an old roadside store for lunch. When we walked in, my attitude immediately changed. There was no way I could be upset anymore because the joyful spirits of the ladies running the place were far too contagious. They were so friendly and we enjoyed the nicest small talk with them. It felt like we had stepped into the Whistle Stop Cafe from Fried Green Tomatoes. (Secret’s in the sauce, baby). We took our chili dogs and coconut pie outside to enjoy lunch the sunshine. After we took our trays back in, the 96 year old woman, who originally owned the building with her husband and had run it as a grocery called for me to come over to her. She said in her rustic southern drawl, “Honey, I can tell this must be the first time y’all have eaten with us. I want you to have one of my pot holders. Go over there and pick one out for yourself and you remember me by it.” Her daughter that now runs the place told me that her mama made those on her original Singer sewing machine with the built in foot pedal and all! What an honor. My day was made.

Later that day, however, I experienced a different kind of “check yourself” moment as we walked over from our fancy hotel that I begged to stay at to grab something to eat. As we were crossing the street, we passed by one of the saddest looking homeless women I have ever seen. The Holy Spirit cut right through the scum of my heart and said loud and clear, “You have a roof over your head. You are about to fill your belly with food. You have a husband. You aren’t alone in this world. You also have me. You have all that you need and more. Look at her. Are you still upset that your dream getaway didn’t work out this time?” Ouch. I had to turn to David and apologize. Again. This time for being ungrateful.

These two women made me realize a lot about living in gratitude. My 96 year old friend certainly is living a life of gratitude, exemplified by her graciousness. Those pot holders were $8 a piece. She didn’t have to give one to a perfect stranger that she had spoken to for less than 5 minutes. But she did so out of thanks. She was thankful that we were supporting her daughter’s business and she wanted to show that it pleased her that we had shown up that day. That’s southern hospitality for you- being a gracious host or hostess. Now I know far more about what being gracious means. It means overflowing with gratitude.

That’s how I want to live. For all that the Lord has done in my life, I’m grateful. But, I don’t need all the things that He has given me to be grateful. I could just start and stop with the number one reason why He deserves thanks: He is good. He deserves an eternity of thanks, though, so I’ll have to add some more to that.  What if I was in that homeless lady’s shoes? I really should have been there the past couple years. But the Lord saw fit to extend an extra measure of His mercy, goodness and graciousness to me. He is good and gracious to her too. We just have been given contrasting stories to experience different intricacies of His goodness and are each responsible for the the thanks we give back to Him no matter what circumstance we are in. Unbeknownst to her, God used the intersection our paths came to, to teach me to live a life that reflects the grace that has been given to me through a spirit of gratitude. Through my spirit of ingratitude and temporary failure to extend grace for things beyond our control, God set us on a little adventure  so that grace and gratitude would collide and I would see it. Now onward to live it...

(PS- Squint hard enough in my cover photo for this piece and you’ll see a basket that says “Give Thanks” that I just noticed after writing this. Think God’s trying to get me to look a little harder into that area of my life or what?!)

Johnny Comes Marching Home with Truth

Several guys named John have gotten me thinking about character lately. (Granted, not all of them spell their names the same way, but still.) A Johnny Cash Song started it, Jonathan Falwell marinated it, and John the disciple cooked it through.

Have you ever had someone (we will call him John Doe to keep with the theme here) make a mistake, then try to drag you through the mud and turn your name into just that? It hurts, doesn’t it? It hurts when someone you trust turns their back on you and tries to cover up their own mistakes by putting the blame and consequences on you. I’ve been there several times and oh boy, did it hurt. It still does, actually, when I think about it. When people have tried to protect their own reputations by attacking me or my loved ones with falsities, it shot flaming arrows with poison directly at our hearts.  But one thing remained constant: our character. And it wasn’t because of our own build up. It was because we are living, breathing members of a body that belongs not to ourselves, but to Christ. And His spirit lives in and through us.

When we were in the middle of one of these situations, an old Johnny Cash song came to my mind. I was angry. I mean really angry. I was thinking about joining a gym with a slam man or a punching bag because I was so ticked off at the treatment being dished out to my core family. I listened to this song over and over as a battle cry responding to the shots fired against us:

Well you may throw your rock and hide your hand

Workin' in the dark against your fellow man

But as sure as God made black and white

What's done in the dark will be brought to the light

You can run on for a long time

Run on for a long time

Sooner or later God'll cut you down

Go tell that long tongue liar

Go and tell that midnight rider

Tell the rambler, the gambler, the back biter

Tell 'em that God's gonna cut you down

Now, I don’t think it would be the right thing to go chase the folks that hurt us with their lies and throw the fact that God’s going to cut them down at them. But I do know, that their character has been exposed. God already knows their character, but now we do too. What has been done in the dark will indeed be brought to the light. They will have to deal with the consequences of that eventually.The same is true on our side. The things we have done in secret will one day be luminously exposed. Have we made mistakes? Yes- huge and minute ones alike. But are we to try to cover those things up to make ourselves look like infallible humans?

Maybe that’s one part of worship a lot of us overlook.  Accepting responsibility when we make mistakes, rather than shifting the blame on someone else to try to protect our reputation, brings an admission to the world that we are not perfect. Are we to be more concerned about protecting our own reputation than the reputation of Christ? If He is living in us, then our character should reflect His. We won’t assume His full constitution, though, until we are in His presence. But in our weaknesses and mistakes, we can abide by the most important aspect of His character: truth. If truth isn’t the key element to His make up, then what’s the point? The way and the life are irrelevant if He is not the truth. By walking in truth, we admit that we are not nearly as important as we or anyone else think we are, and the reputation of the one who’s name we bear is paramount to our own. Pastor Jonathan Falwell put it best when he said, “Character is far more important than reputation.”

The disciple John seals the deal in His third chapter, “Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that his deeds will be exposed. But whoever lives by the truth comes into light, so that it may be seen plainly that what he has done has been done through God” (v.20-21).  You better believe it when I say that I hate when the spotlight is on me at the time I make a mistake. I just want to evaporate and have the world forget me. But when I am authentic even after I have done something wrong, a wonderful thing happens. The abundant forgiveness that my redeemer has given me stands taller than I do in the radiance of truth. When you’re having a conflict like this with a mixture of believers and non-believers, it isn’t expected that those who don’t carry His name would understand this. But the way you respond and the life that you live catches the reflection of the light of the world. Whether that John Doe in your life likes it or not, he will see true character defined. And that can never tarnish your reputation.