Alaska.
I'm not a fan of wildlife, danger, adventure, or cold.
I'm afraid of darkness, grizzly bears, ice-cold water, and isolation.
I'm the child that loves fences because I feel safe.
The riskiest thing I've ever done is marry my husband which I'm pretty sure qualifies me for a lifetime membership to the "living dangerously" club. That's how I classify adventure.
I had very little hope of being won over by Alaska's wilderness, but my husband asked me to come and like I always do, I submitted. Ha.
My man assured me that he would not let a bear eat me unless...unless there was NO chance of my survival and then he'd save himself for the sake of our children. Such comfort.
I'll go...but I won't be moved. I'm too cynical. Too hard of a sell. Too afraid.
In fact, my stomach ached with anxiety the entire flight.
I distracted myself by asking my Louisianan seat partners questions that I really didn't care about just so I could lose myself in their beautiful Southern drawl. If I could have only forgotten for a moment that I was thousands of feet above ground in a steel bathtub then I could have really rested.
My eyes drifted closed while my spirit protested that I needed to stay awake in case...in case of what, I will not admit, but just in case...my phone rested on my lap...in case...
The thrill of entering this great Northern frontier was completely lost on me as my plane forged through the darkness.
And then light began to appear in the distant horizon. I checked my watch.
It was nearing midnight and the light pierced it's way through the black sky.
It seemed we were chasing the sun.
My fretful heart grew quiet.
I watched the sunset---not rise, but set---30,000 feet above this strange, tundra-laced ground in the wee hours of the morning.
My hardened heart melted in anticipation of exploring this desolate land too far to the north for my liking.
Dusk at 1:00 a.m. This might be pretty cool.
I got out my sunglasses.
Interior Alaska. No coast, no whale-watching, no salmon fishing, no Arctic Circle, no nothing.
What could we possibly see here? Where's the touristy things? I want the t-shirt.
Enter Denali National Park. Six million acres of protected land.
The home to the "Great One"--Mt. McKinley. The highest peak in North America.
There's only a 16% chance of seeing the whole mountain on any given day. We weren't in that percent that got to see it. In fact, we weren't even in the 30% that got to see part of the mountain. Rich, dense clouds hid this majestic creation from our view. We verbally begged the sun to push away the fog. It would have been so incredibly easy for the sun to just do its job and show us the mountain. Reveal, Sun, reveal. Not on that day. Mt. McKinley remained hidden.
But God opened up His world to us in other ways.
Six million acres. And that's just Denali. That's not counting the millions of acres of Alaska's lands that remain untouched simply because the conditions make human expansion difficult. It's as if the Lord created such magnificent beauty in an arena that He knew our human hands wouldn't be able to easily touch. Because if we could touch it, we would. If we could build on it, we would. If we somehow could be comfortable here, we would settle. And we would forget that it was the beauty of the creation itself that had brought us here in the first place.
There's nothing here. Nothing, but everything.
Creation holds the conversation.
Moose drink carelessly by ponds. Rivers and streams wind their way aimlessly, braiding the land with glistening ripples of water. White-capped mountains appear and disappear as the clouds rise and fall.
The language of the silent places. The quote was on the wall in the Denali Visitors Center.
Unaltered by man, Alaska's creation speaks---no shouts!--to all privileged enough to drink of its beauty.
God's creation on display for all to see.
It seems obvious---glaringly clear that some Mighty Hand was at work in the formation of this wondrous sight.
A guide slipped in the words "adaptation," "tens of thousands of years old," and "Mother Nature."
Absent was the mention of God or Creator.
I fought the explosion of protests that came bursting from my heart at the mere implication that somehow, someway, this magnificence was without a Master Designer.
How can everyone not see?
God is shouting from every brilliant flower, wild animal, mountainous rock, and soaring bird and some don't hear Him?
Animals play in the most fantastic playground ever created and we can't acknowledge a Creator?
A 20,000 ft. mountain arises in this Alaskan front yard and somehow that's a product of chance?
Mother bears fight for the protection of their babies and that's just an evolved instinct?
How can anyone not see God here?
He's everywhere. Everywhere.
He whispers in the bubbling, glacier-fed stream. He roars in the growl of the grizzly. He sings from the mountains that rise up all around. He smiles in the bright purple and yellow wildflowers painted on the tundra.
The Rocks Cry Out.
How could I not see my Creator here? And how could I not believe in His great goodness and His great love.
I AM GOD AND THERE IS NO OTHER. (Isaiah 45:22)
That's the conversation I heard in Denali National Park.
I. AM. GOD. COME ENJOY ME.
And that's what we did. We enjoyed a walk through time with God the Creator. Our hearts drank as much beauty as our sinful hearts could hold. We ran our hands through the silt-filled rivers. We paused and gazed on a mama bear protecting her babies. We squealed with excitement as moose trotted back and forth before us. And we stopped. We stopped hurrying, planning, and worrying long enough to just enjoy being with our Maker. Look how I've spun the flowers of the fields. And we studied the petals of a flower. See how the wisps of clouds obey Me and decorate the sky. And we saw a mountain-top peek from above the fog. Watch how the caribou trust that I will feed them. And we pondered the caribou feeding lazily on a bush.
Come Enjoy Me.
The twenty-one hour days in an Alaskan summer open up the great frontier to all of us novice creation seekers. God draws open the curtains and throws the light upon this spectacular land for a few short months before He slowly closes the curtains and turns out the lights. Soon, this soul-stirring frontier will be blanketed with darkness and snow and only the determined will pursue its isolation.
I argued for a brief moment with my husband that we should move up here.
Let's do something totally crazy and move to Alaska.
Apparently he doesn't really think I'm Alaskan material.
Bitter cold winters. Cars that need to be plugged in to keep the engine warm.
Wind chill that freezes fingers instantly.
Barely lit days. The sun hardly rises before it begins to set.
Activities like snowmobiling and dogsledding.
Okay. Okay. He knows me well and knows that with every mention of cold, darkness, and dogs that my excitement about moving up North would be completely extinguished.
I guess I'm really an Alaska in July sort of a girl.
But God has used His creation to move me. To stretch me. To silence me. To make me smaller and show me His grandeur. To refresh me. For one instant, I forgot my name and just longed for Him. For that, I am deeply, soulfully, thankful.
The plane is nearing my home. My phone rests on my lap just in case. My kids await and I'm so excited to see them. And I can't wait to tell them about their God, the Creator. His creation surrounds us and proclaims His existence every day. It shouldn't have taken a trip to Alaska for me to love that part of my Lord. But I'm thankful...so very thankful that I got to see...
That I got to see the rocks cry out...
Monday, July 16, 2012
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
I know better...
I know better than to leave my purse in the car.
I know better. I know better. I know better.
But it was just for one short hour...
But it was hidden on the floor of the back seat..
But we were just at a neighborhood pool...
Can you hear the whine creeping into my voice...
But...but...but...
Let's get it out in the open...
Yes, I know better.
If my husband has told me once, he's told me a thousand times.
Please don't leave your purse in the car.
His voice echoed in my mind as I looked at the back window of the car smashed out and the floorboard empty of my belongings.
It would be insensitive for him to remind me of that when I called him with the news.
It would be cold-hearted for that to be the first thing he said to me.
He's not insensitive or cold-hearted.
He punctuated one full sentence before the I've told you not to leave your purse in the car comment.
No, duh. Because I haven't been thinking the exact same thing since it happened.
I'm glad he got it out in the open so we could move on.
Lots of unspiritual knowledge has come to me since the "incident."
*First, really, really don't ever leave your purse in the car.
Apparently, my husband was right. (That was hard to say.)
Maybe don't even let it out of sight in your own house...
Carry it with you at all times...pumping gas, going to the bathroom, sleeping...
You can never be too safe...
Because it's a serious PAIN if it gets stolen.
My husband says I over-react. I'm sleeping with my new driver's license tonight. I don't know where he gets that idea.
*Second, live in such a way so that if your neighbors see two cop cars in front of your home they assume something is WRONG and come running to HELP as opposed to assuming you are to BLAME and peeking curiously out of their windows. (I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG! I wanted to yell). But I knew that any of my male neighbors who heard my "stolen purse" story would think, You shouldn't have left your purse in the car. Why must they have been right too?
*Third, never, never, never judge anyone that fails the Missouri driver's license test. My stolen Colorado driver's license resulted in a complete written, eye, and driving exam. I felt like I was 16. It's not that easy, People. You tell me the following answers: "How many points are you allowed on your license in a year?" Or "how many feet do you have to drive with your signal on before you change lanes?" Or my personal favorite, "Which direction do your wheels need to be turned when you are parking up-hill with no curb?" Are you serious? NO IDEA. How about this--When I get enough points on my license, I'm sure the police officer will let me know. Put your signal on "a little while" before changing lanes. Face the wheels any direction you like when parking up-hill with no curb and pull the emergency break. The computer test didn't appreciate my write-in answers. I did pass. Really I did. I will, however, not be bragging about my score. Let's just say that if my teenager scores the same on his driver's test, my husband says he'll be re-testing. So glad he was with me. Thrilled that he was privy to my test scores. I tried to go alone, but I needed my husband to drive me to the test and to pay for all the licensing fees since I was cashless with no working debit card or credit card. Typical 16-year-old.
*Fourth, which should have been my first point, "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, when you face trials of many kinds." Early yesterday morning, I read the first chapter of James and found that verse pressing me through the afternoon as my spirit rebelled against any form of joy in this minor irritation. This is a tiny trial; a minuscule inconvenience in the grand scheme; one that I'll gladly bear in light of the many heavy trials I see around me; but I certainly didn't find that "joy" was my first response. I do love when the Lord gives us small opportunities to test our growth. Little faith testers. I'll take this one. It's a do-able size for my mustard-seed faith. Pursuing joy in the midst, however, takes a little effort...
Here's the really cool part to the story though...
The only reason this story is actually worth writing...
The major point of this silly blog that should have been at the very top...
After my friend dropped off the kids--she had graciously taken them so I could deal with the "crime scene"--we realized that Madelin and Josh's bags had also been stolen from the back seat.
What were in your bags, Kids? The Ipod? Daddy's phone? Your camera? Your wallets?
No. None of the above.
Our Bibles. Just our Bibles.
Not one Bible, but two Bibles.
Nothing else.
How cool is God to let those bags be stolen along with my purse.
Last night, I lay in bed imagining the desperation or depravation that permitted someone to smash in a window and steal a pile of bags.
I also imagined the moment that they realized the bags held nothing but two, plain, leather-bound books.
They hoped for something valuable and they got it...two copies of the Word of God.
I'm sure they threw them aside...didn't even crack them open...tossed them in the trash...
But I do wonder...I wonder if there was a little twinge in their gut when they saw the words Holy Bible...
I wonder if their heart-rate accelerated just a bit as they touched God's message of hope to them...
That's one of those moments, I'd have loved to have seen...
The thief holding cash from my purse in one hand and God's Word in the other...
You never know...God has worked under stranger circumstances...
If anything, it makes me feel better to imagine...
I know better. I know better. I know better.
But it was just for one short hour...
But it was hidden on the floor of the back seat..
But we were just at a neighborhood pool...
Can you hear the whine creeping into my voice...
But...but...but...
Let's get it out in the open...
Yes, I know better.
If my husband has told me once, he's told me a thousand times.
Please don't leave your purse in the car.
His voice echoed in my mind as I looked at the back window of the car smashed out and the floorboard empty of my belongings.
It would be insensitive for him to remind me of that when I called him with the news.
It would be cold-hearted for that to be the first thing he said to me.
He's not insensitive or cold-hearted.
He punctuated one full sentence before the I've told you not to leave your purse in the car comment.
No, duh. Because I haven't been thinking the exact same thing since it happened.
I'm glad he got it out in the open so we could move on.
Lots of unspiritual knowledge has come to me since the "incident."
*First, really, really don't ever leave your purse in the car.
Apparently, my husband was right. (That was hard to say.)
Maybe don't even let it out of sight in your own house...
Carry it with you at all times...pumping gas, going to the bathroom, sleeping...
You can never be too safe...
Because it's a serious PAIN if it gets stolen.
My husband says I over-react. I'm sleeping with my new driver's license tonight. I don't know where he gets that idea.
*Second, live in such a way so that if your neighbors see two cop cars in front of your home they assume something is WRONG and come running to HELP as opposed to assuming you are to BLAME and peeking curiously out of their windows. (I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG! I wanted to yell). But I knew that any of my male neighbors who heard my "stolen purse" story would think, You shouldn't have left your purse in the car. Why must they have been right too?
*Third, never, never, never judge anyone that fails the Missouri driver's license test. My stolen Colorado driver's license resulted in a complete written, eye, and driving exam. I felt like I was 16. It's not that easy, People. You tell me the following answers: "How many points are you allowed on your license in a year?" Or "how many feet do you have to drive with your signal on before you change lanes?" Or my personal favorite, "Which direction do your wheels need to be turned when you are parking up-hill with no curb?" Are you serious? NO IDEA. How about this--When I get enough points on my license, I'm sure the police officer will let me know. Put your signal on "a little while" before changing lanes. Face the wheels any direction you like when parking up-hill with no curb and pull the emergency break. The computer test didn't appreciate my write-in answers. I did pass. Really I did. I will, however, not be bragging about my score. Let's just say that if my teenager scores the same on his driver's test, my husband says he'll be re-testing. So glad he was with me. Thrilled that he was privy to my test scores. I tried to go alone, but I needed my husband to drive me to the test and to pay for all the licensing fees since I was cashless with no working debit card or credit card. Typical 16-year-old.
*Fourth, which should have been my first point, "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, when you face trials of many kinds." Early yesterday morning, I read the first chapter of James and found that verse pressing me through the afternoon as my spirit rebelled against any form of joy in this minor irritation. This is a tiny trial; a minuscule inconvenience in the grand scheme; one that I'll gladly bear in light of the many heavy trials I see around me; but I certainly didn't find that "joy" was my first response. I do love when the Lord gives us small opportunities to test our growth. Little faith testers. I'll take this one. It's a do-able size for my mustard-seed faith. Pursuing joy in the midst, however, takes a little effort...
Here's the really cool part to the story though...
The only reason this story is actually worth writing...
The major point of this silly blog that should have been at the very top...
After my friend dropped off the kids--she had graciously taken them so I could deal with the "crime scene"--we realized that Madelin and Josh's bags had also been stolen from the back seat.
What were in your bags, Kids? The Ipod? Daddy's phone? Your camera? Your wallets?
No. None of the above.
Our Bibles. Just our Bibles.
Not one Bible, but two Bibles.
Nothing else.
How cool is God to let those bags be stolen along with my purse.
Last night, I lay in bed imagining the desperation or depravation that permitted someone to smash in a window and steal a pile of bags.
I also imagined the moment that they realized the bags held nothing but two, plain, leather-bound books.
They hoped for something valuable and they got it...two copies of the Word of God.
I'm sure they threw them aside...didn't even crack them open...tossed them in the trash...
But I do wonder...I wonder if there was a little twinge in their gut when they saw the words Holy Bible...
I wonder if their heart-rate accelerated just a bit as they touched God's message of hope to them...
That's one of those moments, I'd have loved to have seen...
The thief holding cash from my purse in one hand and God's Word in the other...
You never know...God has worked under stranger circumstances...
If anything, it makes me feel better to imagine...
Friday, June 1, 2012
Home with a Secret
Lee's Summit. Chicago. Hilton Head. Mt. Airy. Lee's Summit.
We had potty breaks in Kentucky, Indiana, Tennessee, and the car seat.
Our travel planner (me) underestimated our gas budget by $150.00.
Our meal allowance diminished three days before we got home.
Oh well. At that point, I gave up on the dollar menu and ordered what I wanted.
We were already over budget. I'll take a Big Mac, please!
Only once on this crazy road trip did I wish for a limo window divider to separate the front and back seat. The kids weren't even fighting. They were just singing so incredibly loud. So loud that I couldn't hear myself sing. Normally that's a good thing considering I'm helplessly tone-deaf, but I had a brief thought as I listened to my voice ring out above the kids that maybe God "touched" my vocal chords in such a way that now I sounded a bit like Whitney Houston. I wanted the divider so I could test my new, angelic voice.
I was assured by someone in the back seat I did not sound like her. I had not received a miracle.
The truth hurts.
The trip was AWE-SOME.
Somehow, individually, we all put our "stages" on hold for the week and just enjoyed each other.
How amazing is that!
Favorite memories:
-Walking on the beach of Lake Michigan. (Had we known there was "beach" in "Chicago" we might not have made the 1020 mile trek down to South Carolina.)
-Changing for the wedding in the McDonald's bathroom. Luggage spread across the booth while the manager spied us suspiciously. Umm, we'll take a coke with the use of your bathroom.
-Watching my studly husband riding a bike and hauling a baby trailer. Beach towels draped over his neck and a beach chair as a backpack, he bravely led our bike parade (Dad with Noah and twenty pounds of beach gear in a toddler bike trailer, Josh on a big bike, Madelin on a medium bike, Mom with Savannah on a tandem bike, Zach pulling up the rear and picking up all of the gear that fell out of our bikes)--he confidently led us 1.5 miles everyday to the beach. Impossible to look cool, yet I think he's much cuter as a family man than he was as a football player.
-Savannah riding on the back of my tandem bike. Are you pedaling, Savannah, or just riding?
-Seeing the beach for the first time in years---is there anything sweeter than children running toward the water with uninhibited excitement---Watch Out for Sharks! No one even stopped. Why weren't they afraid? I was.
-Entering the ocean dangerously deep (up to my hips), I attempted boogie boarding with my kids---my STINKER son, Zach, swam underwater and grabbed my leg. I suppose hitting him with the boogie board over the head was probably not my best mom moment, but he totally deserved it!
-Biking the beach---amateur beach bikers, we rode easily with the wind at our backs---how fun is this! Why didn't anyone wave their hands and warn us that riding back into the wind was going to be a NIGHTMARE? Madelin's crying, boys sweating profusely, I'm swearing under my breath. Preston? Preston just kept biking as his family grew smaller and smaller behind him. Savannah, are you pedaling? A look behind me shows that she's using the bike ride to practice some arabesque circus moves on the back of the bike. I think I started to cry then. Next time we'll do the one way bike ride on the beach and catch the bus back.
The trip was packed with memories. The best part? The best part--the unforeseen gift of the trip--was witnessing the beauty of a big family working together. That picture is rare for us--seven intensely selfish people can create quite a chaotic household, so we treasured every moment of watching our family love...watching our kids show grace...watching our family put aside their own wants for just a week and looking out for the needs of others. Absolutely beautiful. Even if the kids barely remember this adventure, Preston and I have priceless snapshots hidden in our hearts and deep gratitude that God gave us the privilege of raising this large family. For one week...one week...our big family worked. We laughed loudly, played together, helped each other, talked together, showed grace to each other, biked together, shopped together, swam together, lost Noah together, and found Noah together. There's a secret in big families (the secret that's often hidden from those of us in them)---when big families work--they TOTALLY ROCK!
We're back home...back to our selfish, fleshly squabbles...back to putting our own needs first...
BUT...now, when I catch people smiling with pity at us as we attempt to go somewhere in public with all of our kiddos...when I hear someone say (daily), "Wow--don't you have your hands full?"
I can smile with a new confidence...with a new secret...(nope--not pregnant)
The secret is that Yep...we do have our hands full...and it's a sweet, outrageously, fabulous, wonderful GIFT...
That's my new secret...
We had potty breaks in Kentucky, Indiana, Tennessee, and the car seat.
Our travel planner (me) underestimated our gas budget by $150.00.
Our meal allowance diminished three days before we got home.
Oh well. At that point, I gave up on the dollar menu and ordered what I wanted.
We were already over budget. I'll take a Big Mac, please!
Only once on this crazy road trip did I wish for a limo window divider to separate the front and back seat. The kids weren't even fighting. They were just singing so incredibly loud. So loud that I couldn't hear myself sing. Normally that's a good thing considering I'm helplessly tone-deaf, but I had a brief thought as I listened to my voice ring out above the kids that maybe God "touched" my vocal chords in such a way that now I sounded a bit like Whitney Houston. I wanted the divider so I could test my new, angelic voice.
I was assured by someone in the back seat I did not sound like her. I had not received a miracle.
The truth hurts.
The trip was AWE-SOME.
Somehow, individually, we all put our "stages" on hold for the week and just enjoyed each other.
How amazing is that!
Favorite memories:
-Walking on the beach of Lake Michigan. (Had we known there was "beach" in "Chicago" we might not have made the 1020 mile trek down to South Carolina.)
-Changing for the wedding in the McDonald's bathroom. Luggage spread across the booth while the manager spied us suspiciously. Umm, we'll take a coke with the use of your bathroom.
-Watching my studly husband riding a bike and hauling a baby trailer. Beach towels draped over his neck and a beach chair as a backpack, he bravely led our bike parade (Dad with Noah and twenty pounds of beach gear in a toddler bike trailer, Josh on a big bike, Madelin on a medium bike, Mom with Savannah on a tandem bike, Zach pulling up the rear and picking up all of the gear that fell out of our bikes)--he confidently led us 1.5 miles everyday to the beach. Impossible to look cool, yet I think he's much cuter as a family man than he was as a football player.
-Savannah riding on the back of my tandem bike. Are you pedaling, Savannah, or just riding?
-Seeing the beach for the first time in years---is there anything sweeter than children running toward the water with uninhibited excitement---Watch Out for Sharks! No one even stopped. Why weren't they afraid? I was.
-Entering the ocean dangerously deep (up to my hips), I attempted boogie boarding with my kids---my STINKER son, Zach, swam underwater and grabbed my leg. I suppose hitting him with the boogie board over the head was probably not my best mom moment, but he totally deserved it!
-Biking the beach---amateur beach bikers, we rode easily with the wind at our backs---how fun is this! Why didn't anyone wave their hands and warn us that riding back into the wind was going to be a NIGHTMARE? Madelin's crying, boys sweating profusely, I'm swearing under my breath. Preston? Preston just kept biking as his family grew smaller and smaller behind him. Savannah, are you pedaling? A look behind me shows that she's using the bike ride to practice some arabesque circus moves on the back of the bike. I think I started to cry then. Next time we'll do the one way bike ride on the beach and catch the bus back.
The trip was packed with memories. The best part? The best part--the unforeseen gift of the trip--was witnessing the beauty of a big family working together. That picture is rare for us--seven intensely selfish people can create quite a chaotic household, so we treasured every moment of watching our family love...watching our kids show grace...watching our family put aside their own wants for just a week and looking out for the needs of others. Absolutely beautiful. Even if the kids barely remember this adventure, Preston and I have priceless snapshots hidden in our hearts and deep gratitude that God gave us the privilege of raising this large family. For one week...one week...our big family worked. We laughed loudly, played together, helped each other, talked together, showed grace to each other, biked together, shopped together, swam together, lost Noah together, and found Noah together. There's a secret in big families (the secret that's often hidden from those of us in them)---when big families work--they TOTALLY ROCK!
We're back home...back to our selfish, fleshly squabbles...back to putting our own needs first...
BUT...now, when I catch people smiling with pity at us as we attempt to go somewhere in public with all of our kiddos...when I hear someone say (daily), "Wow--don't you have your hands full?"
I can smile with a new confidence...with a new secret...(nope--not pregnant)
The secret is that Yep...we do have our hands full...and it's a sweet, outrageously, fabulous, wonderful GIFT...
That's my new secret...
Friday, May 18, 2012
ROAD TRIP
A road trip awaits.Tomorrow morning we will begin a journey.
Two parents...five kids...one crazy adventure...
Two to five...we're painfully outnumbered...
Lee's Summit, MO to Chicago, IL...530 miles
Chicago, IL to Hilton Head, SC... 1012 miles
Hilton Head, SC to Mt. Airy, GA...330 miles
Mt. Airy, GA to Lee's Summit, MO...864 miles
Lee's Summit to the nearest crazy farm...
Gas for 2736 miles...$550.00
Food for seven people for 10 days...$600.00
Beach souvenirs...$100.00
Memories...questionable...I mean, priceless...
Memories WILL be made.
The verdict's still out on whether the memories will provoke laughter or tears, but there's no dispute that memories will be made.
From the moment we open our eyes, there will be opportunity (in close quarters) for arguments.
From the moment the car starts, someone will be offending another person in the car.
From the moment we hit the road, a leg will be touching another's leg.
Mom. Moooommmy. Mama. Mooooom. Mamamamama.
Children, your father's also in the car, why don't you solicit his help.
DAAAAD. Mooommy. DAAADAAAA. Mama. Daddy. Maaaammmaaa. Daaaaaddy.
Daaaad. Daaaaad. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom.
On and on and on.
And then we'll pull out of the neighborhood...
No escape. We're trapped.
I'm tempted by the occasional fantasy of a clear, plastic, sound-proof divider that separates the front seat from the back seats. You know, like the limo window.
I can see them, but I can't hear them.
I imagine looking in the back seat as my husband and I share uninterrupted time finishing one of the four hundred discussions we have yet to finish...
I'm probably sipping a cappucino...he a cup of coffee...eighties music softly plays in the background...
I may see tears, red faces, glaring, some kicking, slapping, mouths opening yelling at me...
With a look of deep regret and sorrow, I point at my ears and mouth the words,
I can't hear you. So sorry. Wish I could hear you.
I sort of imagine shaking my head as though it breaks my heart that I can't help. The look that conveys to them, I really wish I could help, but this terrible divider that someone installed prevents me from intervening.
I'd take a sip of my cappucino and slyly turn up Jessie's Girl a little higher.
I'd love to miss the arguing, the "she's touching me," the kicking, crying, whining, the "I'm staaarving," the slapping, the pushing, the glaring, the complaints.
I'd love to miss that.
But if I couldn't hear into the back seat, I'd miss a lot more than that.
I'd miss the 2nd grader reading the kindergartener a book.
I'd miss the teenager pointing out the horses to the baby.
I'd miss the brothers talking about the latest airsoft battle plan.
I'd miss the sisters telling stories about their polly pockets.
I'd miss the slug bug game.
I'd miss the "oohhing" and "ahhhing" over the St. Louis Arch.
I'd miss the story the teenager just remembered about last week's field day.
I'd miss the eleven-year-old telling about his favorite part in The Avengers.
I'd miss the baby giggling. I'd miss the girls' laughter. I'd miss the boys' terrible jokes.
I'd miss them all singing along with us to Jessie's Girl. (We know...we know...inappropriate song.)
The bitter and the sweet of life fused together into one, big family on a road trip.
Here's my advice for my kids for the trip:
Pick 25 offenses every day to overlook.
Take a deep breath and show grace.
On the 26th offense, come talk to us.
Surely they'll lose count.
It will be wise for me to follow my own advice this trip...
Don't tell, but I'm more excited about this trip than I should be...
My favorite people all stuck together for ten days...
I truly can't wait...
Two parents...five kids...one crazy adventure...
Two to five...we're painfully outnumbered...
Lee's Summit, MO to Chicago, IL...530 miles
Chicago, IL to Hilton Head, SC... 1012 miles
Hilton Head, SC to Mt. Airy, GA...330 miles
Mt. Airy, GA to Lee's Summit, MO...864 miles
Lee's Summit to the nearest crazy farm...
Gas for 2736 miles...$550.00
Food for seven people for 10 days...$600.00
Beach souvenirs...$100.00
Memories...questionable...I mean, priceless...
Memories WILL be made.
The verdict's still out on whether the memories will provoke laughter or tears, but there's no dispute that memories will be made.
From the moment we open our eyes, there will be opportunity (in close quarters) for arguments.
From the moment the car starts, someone will be offending another person in the car.
From the moment we hit the road, a leg will be touching another's leg.
Mom. Moooommmy. Mama. Mooooom. Mamamamama.
Children, your father's also in the car, why don't you solicit his help.
DAAAAD. Mooommy. DAAADAAAA. Mama. Daddy. Maaaammmaaa. Daaaaaddy.
Daaaad. Daaaaad. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom.
On and on and on.
And then we'll pull out of the neighborhood...
No escape. We're trapped.
I'm tempted by the occasional fantasy of a clear, plastic, sound-proof divider that separates the front seat from the back seats. You know, like the limo window.
I can see them, but I can't hear them.
I imagine looking in the back seat as my husband and I share uninterrupted time finishing one of the four hundred discussions we have yet to finish...
I'm probably sipping a cappucino...he a cup of coffee...eighties music softly plays in the background...
I may see tears, red faces, glaring, some kicking, slapping, mouths opening yelling at me...
With a look of deep regret and sorrow, I point at my ears and mouth the words,
I can't hear you. So sorry. Wish I could hear you.
I sort of imagine shaking my head as though it breaks my heart that I can't help. The look that conveys to them, I really wish I could help, but this terrible divider that someone installed prevents me from intervening.
I'd take a sip of my cappucino and slyly turn up Jessie's Girl a little higher.
I'd love to miss the arguing, the "she's touching me," the kicking, crying, whining, the "I'm staaarving," the slapping, the pushing, the glaring, the complaints.
I'd love to miss that.
But if I couldn't hear into the back seat, I'd miss a lot more than that.
I'd miss the 2nd grader reading the kindergartener a book.
I'd miss the teenager pointing out the horses to the baby.
I'd miss the brothers talking about the latest airsoft battle plan.
I'd miss the sisters telling stories about their polly pockets.
I'd miss the slug bug game.
I'd miss the "oohhing" and "ahhhing" over the St. Louis Arch.
I'd miss the story the teenager just remembered about last week's field day.
I'd miss the eleven-year-old telling about his favorite part in The Avengers.
I'd miss the baby giggling. I'd miss the girls' laughter. I'd miss the boys' terrible jokes.
I'd miss them all singing along with us to Jessie's Girl. (We know...we know...inappropriate song.)
The bitter and the sweet of life fused together into one, big family on a road trip.
Here's my advice for my kids for the trip:
Pick 25 offenses every day to overlook.
Take a deep breath and show grace.
On the 26th offense, come talk to us.
Surely they'll lose count.
It will be wise for me to follow my own advice this trip...
Don't tell, but I'm more excited about this trip than I should be...
My favorite people all stuck together for ten days...
I truly can't wait...
Friday, April 20, 2012
Grace
This blog has been in process all week.
It's emotional--only the tip of the iceberg.
Incomplete in its details.
How do I tell this story? It's not my story to share.
It begs to be told.
Silence feeds the enemy.
There are millions of stories like this living deep in the heart of women.
Lord, let your grace shine forth.
God's grace in all situations.
Here goes...
Alone, a single mom of four sat in a church pew barely looking at those around her.
What would they think when they found out?
These church goers who knew right from wrong.
What would they say about her?
She could barely feed the children in her home.
She wasn't married.
If only someone would tell her what to do.
She'd been struggling with the internal voices of our culture from the moment the results came back.
The pregnancy test read positive.
Someone...please...anyone...tell me what to do? It's too overwhelming.
Her heart silently cried for someone to step up and answer.
But no one did...because no one knew her secret.
The pregnancy center claimed to have her best interest at heart. I don't know how she got there. Perhaps a friend drove her to the clinic thinking she was helping out her dear friend in love. The culture tells us to take care of ourselves first. Maybe the baby's daddy sat with her just as confused and scared as she. I don't know. There's no denying the fact that she sat in a center---waiting some advice---some advice from people who claimed to have her best interest at stake.
During the appointment, they said they wanted to inform her---let her make her own decision. But the appointment was so rushed. Everything was hurried.
There was no time to think.
Why wouldn't they just let her think a second?
They didn't give her a chance to talk to anyone.
I guess maybe this IS best.
Before she knew it, she was in a lonely, sterile room waiting for the procedure.
The procedure that would make it all go away.
Terrified, she summoned up what little courage remained and spoke,
I've changed my mind. I don't want this.
The buzz of equipment and people in the room continued.
A little louder she cries,
Do you hear me? I've changed my mind.
Silence.
And then these words echoed through the room,
I'm sorry...
It's too late.
She remembers the nurse in the recovery room asking her if she was okay.
She remembers saying, "I will never be okay.
The good news...God's healing her. He's doing a mighty work in her heart and He's using her to share her testimony with others. He's the great healer and He specializes in healing the brokenhearted, renewing scarred lives, and placing a new joy in devastated hearts. There's nothing too big for Him.
Nothing.
The bad news...the devil's still lying to us about abortion. Telling us that it's no big deal. It's what's best for us. We'll be okay. Our body...our choice...
Liar. Liar.
Pants on fire.
Let's call the devil what he is.
A big, fat liar.
Either way...a woman loses part of herself.
If she has the baby, her life changes. She loses life as she knew it.
Life will NEVER be the same.
If she doesn't have the baby, her life still changes. She still loses part of herself.
Life will still NEVER be the same.
The abortion will never take away the fact that she was pregnant.
Either way life changes...
I heard this courageous woman's testimony at a banquet last week for the Rachel House---a pregnancy crisis center that offers young women free pregnancy tests, free ultrasounds, and free counseling to give pregnant women life-affirming options.
Much of this banquet I'm still sorting out in my head. Parts of the night are reaching the deepest parts of my heart. The statistics are staggering.
Do you know our city of Kansas City is one of the worst?
For every one child saved by a pro-life center, nineteen are aborted.
1 to 19.
How is that okay?
That's a lot of babies.
That's a lot of hurting women.
So my question is this...
Where are the women? Where are the millions of women that struggle alone with this decision? Where are the women that made the decision years ago and silently ache?
Do you know God's grace?
Do you know that NOTHING--NOTHING--NOTHING--can separate you from the love of God?
As I listened to her testimony, I got stuck on the part that she was sitting in church wondering what everyone would think.
Don't you understand that thought? I do.
What WOULD people think? What would they think as her stomach began to swell and they knew she was without a husband? Would they bring their stones? Would they throw stones with their words--or their eyes--or their avoidance?
Or would they drop their stones at the door and use their arms to hug her with grace?
We had a sign propped near our front door in Las Vegas.
Drop your stones at the door. This is a grace-filled house.
A bucket of stones sat at the base of the sign. It's amazing how that bucket filled up day after day. A reminder to our family that we wanted to be known for our grace toward others. A reminder because showing grace is not always easy and it's not always our first response.
Goodness knows there's plenty of stone-throwers around.
In this house, let's leave our stones outside and show some grace.
Maybe I need to get that sign back out as a reminder to myself and my family.
Our churches should be the safest place for a woman in that position.
Our churches should be the softest landing for a woman living with the aftermath of an abortion.
How can we love on you?
Let us lead you to the arms of our Heavenly Father who wants to heal you.
I've heard our women's ministry leader say that at the end of the day our job as a parent is to place our child's hand in the Hand of God.
Wouldn't that be helpful for us to do that for women in this situation too?
Let us help you place your hand in the Hand of God.
Let us graciously love on you as your broken heart heals.
Years ago as new settlers to Lee's Summit, we sat in our church's office with the pastor at the time. Our story poured forth. It wasn't a story scarred by abortion, but our testimony is not pretty. Sin and grace woven together and entertwined with heartbreak and hope. We were done with pretenses. That's not helpful in growth.
We knew what it felt like to sit in a church and wonder what everyone would think if they knew us?
Would they throw stones?
Or would we find grace?
I only had one question for the pastor.
Aside from preaching straight from God's Word, I had only one concern in joining a church here. One question left to ask.
"Where do messy people go to church?"
Pause.
"I'm serious. Where do messy people go to church?"
He smiled and his answer confirmed what I hoped and sensed from this fellowship of believers, "Here. They go here."
Then this is the place for us. A place where people know they need a Savior. Messy people sitting in the church pews. People working on their less than perfect marriage. Those grieving a loss. Grieving their own sin. Fighting against addition. Struggling to understand why God allowed something. Despairing over their walk into that clinic.
Pray for these women. The women struggling with an unplanned pregnancy.
If you know one, introduce them to the Rachel House.
Pray for the women that find themselves walking into the other clinic. The one that takes a life under the lie that it will "save" the life of the woman.
I have no doubt His arms hold those millions of babies that never had a chance to take their first breath. His heart aches for He remembers knitting them together. He knows who they were to be.
I have no doubt those same arms reach for the women.
The women who believed the lie.
Nothing can separate us from the love of Jesus. Nothing.
"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither heigh nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 8:38-39
It's emotional--only the tip of the iceberg.
Incomplete in its details.
How do I tell this story? It's not my story to share.
It begs to be told.
Silence feeds the enemy.
There are millions of stories like this living deep in the heart of women.
Lord, let your grace shine forth.
God's grace in all situations.
Here goes...
Alone, a single mom of four sat in a church pew barely looking at those around her.
What would they think when they found out?
These church goers who knew right from wrong.
What would they say about her?
She could barely feed the children in her home.
She wasn't married.
If only someone would tell her what to do.
She'd been struggling with the internal voices of our culture from the moment the results came back.
The pregnancy test read positive.
Someone...please...anyone...tell me what to do? It's too overwhelming.
Her heart silently cried for someone to step up and answer.
But no one did...because no one knew her secret.
The pregnancy center claimed to have her best interest at heart. I don't know how she got there. Perhaps a friend drove her to the clinic thinking she was helping out her dear friend in love. The culture tells us to take care of ourselves first. Maybe the baby's daddy sat with her just as confused and scared as she. I don't know. There's no denying the fact that she sat in a center---waiting some advice---some advice from people who claimed to have her best interest at stake.
During the appointment, they said they wanted to inform her---let her make her own decision. But the appointment was so rushed. Everything was hurried.
There was no time to think.
Why wouldn't they just let her think a second?
They didn't give her a chance to talk to anyone.
I guess maybe this IS best.
Before she knew it, she was in a lonely, sterile room waiting for the procedure.
The procedure that would make it all go away.
Terrified, she summoned up what little courage remained and spoke,
I've changed my mind. I don't want this.
The buzz of equipment and people in the room continued.
A little louder she cries,
Do you hear me? I've changed my mind.
Silence.
And then these words echoed through the room,
I'm sorry...
It's too late.
She remembers the nurse in the recovery room asking her if she was okay.
She remembers saying, "I will never be okay.
The good news...God's healing her. He's doing a mighty work in her heart and He's using her to share her testimony with others. He's the great healer and He specializes in healing the brokenhearted, renewing scarred lives, and placing a new joy in devastated hearts. There's nothing too big for Him.
Nothing.
The bad news...the devil's still lying to us about abortion. Telling us that it's no big deal. It's what's best for us. We'll be okay. Our body...our choice...
Liar. Liar.
Pants on fire.
Let's call the devil what he is.
A big, fat liar.
Either way...a woman loses part of herself.
If she has the baby, her life changes. She loses life as she knew it.
Life will NEVER be the same.
If she doesn't have the baby, her life still changes. She still loses part of herself.
Life will still NEVER be the same.
The abortion will never take away the fact that she was pregnant.
Either way life changes...
I heard this courageous woman's testimony at a banquet last week for the Rachel House---a pregnancy crisis center that offers young women free pregnancy tests, free ultrasounds, and free counseling to give pregnant women life-affirming options.
Much of this banquet I'm still sorting out in my head. Parts of the night are reaching the deepest parts of my heart. The statistics are staggering.
Do you know our city of Kansas City is one of the worst?
For every one child saved by a pro-life center, nineteen are aborted.
1 to 19.
How is that okay?
That's a lot of babies.
That's a lot of hurting women.
So my question is this...
Where are the women? Where are the millions of women that struggle alone with this decision? Where are the women that made the decision years ago and silently ache?
Do you know God's grace?
Do you know that NOTHING--NOTHING--NOTHING--can separate you from the love of God?
As I listened to her testimony, I got stuck on the part that she was sitting in church wondering what everyone would think.
Don't you understand that thought? I do.
What WOULD people think? What would they think as her stomach began to swell and they knew she was without a husband? Would they bring their stones? Would they throw stones with their words--or their eyes--or their avoidance?
Or would they drop their stones at the door and use their arms to hug her with grace?
We had a sign propped near our front door in Las Vegas.
Drop your stones at the door. This is a grace-filled house.
A bucket of stones sat at the base of the sign. It's amazing how that bucket filled up day after day. A reminder to our family that we wanted to be known for our grace toward others. A reminder because showing grace is not always easy and it's not always our first response.
Goodness knows there's plenty of stone-throwers around.
In this house, let's leave our stones outside and show some grace.
Maybe I need to get that sign back out as a reminder to myself and my family.
Our churches should be the safest place for a woman in that position.
Our churches should be the softest landing for a woman living with the aftermath of an abortion.
How can we love on you?
Let us lead you to the arms of our Heavenly Father who wants to heal you.
I've heard our women's ministry leader say that at the end of the day our job as a parent is to place our child's hand in the Hand of God.
Wouldn't that be helpful for us to do that for women in this situation too?
Let us help you place your hand in the Hand of God.
Let us graciously love on you as your broken heart heals.
Years ago as new settlers to Lee's Summit, we sat in our church's office with the pastor at the time. Our story poured forth. It wasn't a story scarred by abortion, but our testimony is not pretty. Sin and grace woven together and entertwined with heartbreak and hope. We were done with pretenses. That's not helpful in growth.
We knew what it felt like to sit in a church and wonder what everyone would think if they knew us?
Would they throw stones?
Or would we find grace?
I only had one question for the pastor.
Aside from preaching straight from God's Word, I had only one concern in joining a church here. One question left to ask.
"Where do messy people go to church?"
Pause.
"I'm serious. Where do messy people go to church?"
He smiled and his answer confirmed what I hoped and sensed from this fellowship of believers, "Here. They go here."
Then this is the place for us. A place where people know they need a Savior. Messy people sitting in the church pews. People working on their less than perfect marriage. Those grieving a loss. Grieving their own sin. Fighting against addition. Struggling to understand why God allowed something. Despairing over their walk into that clinic.
Pray for these women. The women struggling with an unplanned pregnancy.
If you know one, introduce them to the Rachel House.
Pray for the women that find themselves walking into the other clinic. The one that takes a life under the lie that it will "save" the life of the woman.
I have no doubt His arms hold those millions of babies that never had a chance to take their first breath. His heart aches for He remembers knitting them together. He knows who they were to be.
I have no doubt those same arms reach for the women.
The women who believed the lie.
Nothing can separate us from the love of Jesus. Nothing.
"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither heigh nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 8:38-39
Savannah's Salvation...and the Day After...
Yesterday was a big day.
Savannah, our 5-year-old, accepted Jesus into her heart.
There's no greater joy for a Christian parent than to watch her little one bow her head and profess belief in Jesus as her Savior.
"I believe Jesus died for my sins and I want to pray Him into my heart so I can go to heaven."
Five isn't old enough to fully understand the price of sin.
It's not old enough to deeply grieve her own sin.
But it's old enough to understand that Jesus is God.
That she needs a Savior.
And Jesus is that Savior.
She proudly called Grammy and Papa, Uncle Matty and Aunt Moya. When she saw our friends last night, Beth Anne and Oscar, she boldly declared her decision to them.
"I'm a Christian. I believe in Jesus."
She was so excited.
Every time she recited her news, my heart rejoiced.
We know it's the first of many discussions with her about her faith.
Only time will tell if she truly believes.
If she truly gave her life to Christ yesterday.
Prayerfully, fruit will grow in coming years and affirm that decision.
I pray Savannah Grace's name is written in the Book of Life.
And then comes the day after.
The day after her "salvation."
Perhaps, I relaxed too much.
Perhaps, I was feeling pride as she shared her decision.
Perhaps, telling her preschool teacher that she had become a Christian yesterday was pushing it too far.
Buckling into the car after preschool, she says, "Guess what song I taught my friends today?"
"Oh, I don't know, Savannah. Jesus loves me. I'm in the Lord's Army. Holy, Holy, Holy."
"We're sexy and we know it." Clap, clap, clap, clap.
"We're sexy and we know it." She added a little head wag on that one.
Speechless.
She repeated the song, jiving in her booster seat. Confidently singing as boldly as she had shared her salvation decision.
Just in case I thought salvation would equal instant holiness...
"We're sexy and we know it" reminded me otherwise.
I managed to squeak out, "Where did you hear that song?"
"Ummm...Tate."
Now let's add deception to the impure song coming from the back seat.
Tate's 2.
2.
No way.
My teenager smirked in amusement beside me.
He's so dead.
"Let's never, ever, never sing that song again, Savannah. Never, ever, ever."
Imagine the conversations her friends' parents are having tonight about the word "sexy."
I sure hope she didn't tell any of her friends that she accepted Jesus yesterday.
I think we need to wait a little longer to share that news.
What a reminder that salvation happens once, but sanctification takes a lifetime.
AND what makes me really angry...I've caught myself humming that song all afternoon...
I even did a little dance to it as I cut vegetables...
Savannah, our 5-year-old, accepted Jesus into her heart.
There's no greater joy for a Christian parent than to watch her little one bow her head and profess belief in Jesus as her Savior.
"I believe Jesus died for my sins and I want to pray Him into my heart so I can go to heaven."
Five isn't old enough to fully understand the price of sin.
It's not old enough to deeply grieve her own sin.
But it's old enough to understand that Jesus is God.
That she needs a Savior.
And Jesus is that Savior.
She proudly called Grammy and Papa, Uncle Matty and Aunt Moya. When she saw our friends last night, Beth Anne and Oscar, she boldly declared her decision to them.
"I'm a Christian. I believe in Jesus."
She was so excited.
Every time she recited her news, my heart rejoiced.
We know it's the first of many discussions with her about her faith.
Only time will tell if she truly believes.
If she truly gave her life to Christ yesterday.
Prayerfully, fruit will grow in coming years and affirm that decision.
I pray Savannah Grace's name is written in the Book of Life.
And then comes the day after.
The day after her "salvation."
Perhaps, I relaxed too much.
Perhaps, I was feeling pride as she shared her decision.
Perhaps, telling her preschool teacher that she had become a Christian yesterday was pushing it too far.
Buckling into the car after preschool, she says, "Guess what song I taught my friends today?"
"Oh, I don't know, Savannah. Jesus loves me. I'm in the Lord's Army. Holy, Holy, Holy."
"We're sexy and we know it." Clap, clap, clap, clap.
"We're sexy and we know it." She added a little head wag on that one.
Speechless.
She repeated the song, jiving in her booster seat. Confidently singing as boldly as she had shared her salvation decision.
Just in case I thought salvation would equal instant holiness...
"We're sexy and we know it" reminded me otherwise.
I managed to squeak out, "Where did you hear that song?"
"Ummm...Tate."
Now let's add deception to the impure song coming from the back seat.
Tate's 2.
2.
No way.
My teenager smirked in amusement beside me.
He's so dead.
"Let's never, ever, never sing that song again, Savannah. Never, ever, ever."
Imagine the conversations her friends' parents are having tonight about the word "sexy."
I sure hope she didn't tell any of her friends that she accepted Jesus yesterday.
I think we need to wait a little longer to share that news.
What a reminder that salvation happens once, but sanctification takes a lifetime.
AND what makes me really angry...I've caught myself humming that song all afternoon...
I even did a little dance to it as I cut vegetables...
Friday, April 6, 2012
"Why?" by Nichole Nordeman
Beautiful, heart-felt lyrics typify Nichole Nordeman's songwriting.
Gifted with the ability to tell stories through song, she paints a
moving picture of a little girl witnessing the events of the cross.
This is one of our favorites.
"Why?"
by Nichole Nordeman
Album--This Mystery
We rode into town the other day
Just me and my daddy
He said I've finally reached that age
And I could ride next him on a horse that
of course was not quite as wide
We heard a crowd of people shouting
And so we stopped to find out why
There was that man that my dad said he loved
But today there was fear in his eyes
So I said, "Daddy, why are they screaming?
Why are the faces of some of them beaming?
Why is he dressed in that bright purple robe?
I bet that crown hurts him more than he shows
Daddy, please, can't you do something?
He looks as though he's going to cry
You said he was stronger than all of those guys
Daddy, please tell me why?
Why does everyone want him to die?"
Later that day the sky grew cloudy
And daddy said I should go inside.
Somehow he knew things would get stormy.
Boy, was he right
But I could not keep from wondering if there was something he had to hide
So after he left I had to find out
I was not afraid of getting lost
So I followed the crowds to a hill where I knew men had been killed
And I heard a voice come from the cross...
And it said,
"Father, why are they screaming?
Why are the faces of some of them beaming?
Why are they casting their lots for my robe?
This crown of thorns hurts me more than it shows.
Father, please, can't you do something?
I know you must hear my cry
I thought I could handle a cross of this size
Father, remind me why?
Why does everyone want me to die?
When will I understand why?"
"My Precious Son, I hear them screaming
I'm watching the face of the enemy beaming
But soon I will clothe you in robes of my own
Jesus, this hurts me much more than you know
But this dark hour, I must do nothing
I've heard your unbearable cry
The power in your blood destroys all of the lies
Soon you'll see past their unmerciful eyes
Look there below, see the child
Trembling by her father's side.
Now I can tell you why..
She is why you must die."
Gifted with the ability to tell stories through song, she paints a
moving picture of a little girl witnessing the events of the cross.
This is one of our favorites.
"Why?"
by Nichole Nordeman
Album--This Mystery
We rode into town the other day
Just me and my daddy
He said I've finally reached that age
And I could ride next him on a horse that
of course was not quite as wide
We heard a crowd of people shouting
And so we stopped to find out why
There was that man that my dad said he loved
But today there was fear in his eyes
So I said, "Daddy, why are they screaming?
Why are the faces of some of them beaming?
Why is he dressed in that bright purple robe?
I bet that crown hurts him more than he shows
Daddy, please, can't you do something?
He looks as though he's going to cry
You said he was stronger than all of those guys
Daddy, please tell me why?
Why does everyone want him to die?"
Later that day the sky grew cloudy
And daddy said I should go inside.
Somehow he knew things would get stormy.
Boy, was he right
But I could not keep from wondering if there was something he had to hide
So after he left I had to find out
I was not afraid of getting lost
So I followed the crowds to a hill where I knew men had been killed
And I heard a voice come from the cross...
And it said,
"Father, why are they screaming?
Why are the faces of some of them beaming?
Why are they casting their lots for my robe?
This crown of thorns hurts me more than it shows.
Father, please, can't you do something?
I know you must hear my cry
I thought I could handle a cross of this size
Father, remind me why?
Why does everyone want me to die?
When will I understand why?"
"My Precious Son, I hear them screaming
I'm watching the face of the enemy beaming
But soon I will clothe you in robes of my own
Jesus, this hurts me much more than you know
But this dark hour, I must do nothing
I've heard your unbearable cry
The power in your blood destroys all of the lies
Soon you'll see past their unmerciful eyes
Look there below, see the child
Trembling by her father's side.
Now I can tell you why..
She is why you must die."
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
In the Beginning
God knew.
He had to know. He knows everything.
He knew the moment He breathed life into man that this man would break His heart.
He knew the intimacy that He shared with Adam and Eve would eventually be severed, and that their descendants would wander far from Him.
He knew.
He created them anyway.
And as He wove the earth together, He devised a way to lead them back.
A way that would cost Him dearly. The life of His Jesus.
He knew what man's choice would be.
Imagine the hosts of heaven standing watch as the Devil wraps himself as a serpent and finds his way to Eve.
Imagine the anticipation as the heavens wait for her choice.
Perhaps they all leaned toward her...silently pleading with her to turn away.
To deny the offer. To believe what God had told her.
Perhaps one of them whispered, "Believe God. Don't let this serpent deceive you."
Yet, she reached for the fruit and made her choice.
As Adam neared, perhaps once again the heavens leaned forward.
"Don't do it. Not you too. We watched Him lovingly weave you together. He took such care as He knit your heart. You Don't Really Want This."
And Adam closed his eyes and took a bite.
In the beginning, God knew.
Sin, death, destruction, evil.
He knew we would be separated from Him.
Our choices every day sentence us to a life apart from Him.
Yet, He wrote His book with our redemption in mind.
Isaiah speaks God's words, "Fear not, for I have redeemed you. I have summoned you by name. You are mine."
The Fall of Man was just the beginning.
The Redemption of Man...the rest of the story.
We celebrate Christmas as the beginning of our hope for salvation.
Jesus' birth began our trip back to Him.
But His birth is inconsequential without His death.
His death paid the price for our sins.
His death should drive us to our knees in brokenness.
He was forsaken by the Father...bore every sin ever committed and ones that have yet to be committed...so that God could look on us and not forsake us...so that our sin would not be held against us...so that His precious creations could find their way back to Him.
And three days later, the empty tomb would reveal that His death didn't just pay for our sins, but conquered death itself.
The plan set in motion at the beginning of time revealed.
The serpent loses. God wins.
Sin and death conquered with the death and resurrection of this perfect sacrifice.
The celebration of Easter.
The plan unfolds in the most unlikely of ways.
God's Son on earth being nailed to a cross by the very sinners He seeks to save.
Perhaps the same heavenly hosts leaned toward their Heavenly Father and asked,
Can we save Him? Give us the command and we will save Him.
And God turns His eyes from His Son as the sins of the world pour out on Jesus.
This is my will. He's doing the saving. He's saving those who hammer his hands. He's saving those who hurl insults. He's saving those who betrayed Him. He's the Savior they don't know they need. This is my will.
And God's head turns away and Jesus bears the full weight of the sin of man without His Father.
Every sin ever committed poured out on Him.
The perfect Lamb sacrificed.
The veil torn.
I wonder if God whispered-with us in mind-as Jesus hung on the cross,
"Welcome Home."
He had to know. He knows everything.
He knew the moment He breathed life into man that this man would break His heart.
He knew the intimacy that He shared with Adam and Eve would eventually be severed, and that their descendants would wander far from Him.
He knew.
He created them anyway.
And as He wove the earth together, He devised a way to lead them back.
A way that would cost Him dearly. The life of His Jesus.
He knew what man's choice would be.
Imagine the hosts of heaven standing watch as the Devil wraps himself as a serpent and finds his way to Eve.
Imagine the anticipation as the heavens wait for her choice.
Perhaps they all leaned toward her...silently pleading with her to turn away.
To deny the offer. To believe what God had told her.
Perhaps one of them whispered, "Believe God. Don't let this serpent deceive you."
Yet, she reached for the fruit and made her choice.
As Adam neared, perhaps once again the heavens leaned forward.
"Don't do it. Not you too. We watched Him lovingly weave you together. He took such care as He knit your heart. You Don't Really Want This."
And Adam closed his eyes and took a bite.
In the beginning, God knew.
Sin, death, destruction, evil.
He knew we would be separated from Him.
Our choices every day sentence us to a life apart from Him.
Yet, He wrote His book with our redemption in mind.
Isaiah speaks God's words, "Fear not, for I have redeemed you. I have summoned you by name. You are mine."
The Fall of Man was just the beginning.
The Redemption of Man...the rest of the story.
We celebrate Christmas as the beginning of our hope for salvation.
Jesus' birth began our trip back to Him.
But His birth is inconsequential without His death.
His death paid the price for our sins.
His death should drive us to our knees in brokenness.
He was forsaken by the Father...bore every sin ever committed and ones that have yet to be committed...so that God could look on us and not forsake us...so that our sin would not be held against us...so that His precious creations could find their way back to Him.
And three days later, the empty tomb would reveal that His death didn't just pay for our sins, but conquered death itself.
The plan set in motion at the beginning of time revealed.
The serpent loses. God wins.
Sin and death conquered with the death and resurrection of this perfect sacrifice.
The celebration of Easter.
The plan unfolds in the most unlikely of ways.
God's Son on earth being nailed to a cross by the very sinners He seeks to save.
Perhaps the same heavenly hosts leaned toward their Heavenly Father and asked,
Can we save Him? Give us the command and we will save Him.
And God turns His eyes from His Son as the sins of the world pour out on Jesus.
This is my will. He's doing the saving. He's saving those who hammer his hands. He's saving those who hurl insults. He's saving those who betrayed Him. He's the Savior they don't know they need. This is my will.
And God's head turns away and Jesus bears the full weight of the sin of man without His Father.
Every sin ever committed poured out on Him.
The perfect Lamb sacrificed.
The veil torn.
I wonder if God whispered-with us in mind-as Jesus hung on the cross,
"Welcome Home."
Monday, March 19, 2012
Sick of Struggling
You know, I get so sick of struggling through my sin.
Sometimes I'm sick of the sin itself.
Sometimes, I honestly get frustrated that God won't just let me sit in it.
Come on, Lord---why can't I just sit here a while longer? I like this particular sin. I like this attitude. Why are you robbing me of the joy of living in it?
It's hard to sift through all of the areas that need purified.
Where to start?
Just as one area becomes cleansed, some other area of putrid filth rears its head calling on only the Holy Lord to fix.
His great love and holiness prevents us from sitting forever in our sin.
He makes us too uncomfortable.
Being uncomfortable in our sin is part of the struggle.
That's a gift.
It's evidence of sanctification.
As Paul says in Philippians 2:12 "Continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act according to His good purpose."
Isn't there a constant tension as our flesh reveals itself and the
Holy Spirit works to combat it?
Shouldn't we struggle living in this world?
It's not our home.
What does it say about the state of our spiritual health if there is no struggle?
As a young woman, a wise friend asked me the state of my spiritual life.
Talk about a pointed question.
Everyone should have a friend willing to ask them that question.
I contemplated lying...
I knew all the "right" answers...
I'd said all the Christian phrases...
However, boldness sometimes invites honesty. Sometimes.
I answered truthfully, "I'm so tired of struggling with this. Where's the victory?"
She nodded her head and chuckled, "The struggle keeps you needing Him. I'd be more worried about you if you told me you weren't struggling with anything."
Defiantly, I claimed, "I'd need Him anyway. I don't need to struggle."
But the sad truth for me is that moments of great triumph and blessing in my life have often been eerily silent of my need for the Lord.
As I'm sick of my own struggle this week, it seems I need an attitude change toward the struggle itself.
Could I take joy in the struggle knowing that sanctification is on the other side?
Could I embrace the effort of working through my layered issues knowing that for now, this keeps me needing the Lord?"
It seems Christians should be able to openly answer at any time,
"How's the state of your spiritual life?"
and
"What's God letting you struggle with right now?"
And if those questions are offensive to us...
Perhaps we need to kneel before Him and check the state of our heart...
Sometimes I'm sick of the sin itself.
Sometimes, I honestly get frustrated that God won't just let me sit in it.
Come on, Lord---why can't I just sit here a while longer? I like this particular sin. I like this attitude. Why are you robbing me of the joy of living in it?
It's hard to sift through all of the areas that need purified.
Where to start?
Just as one area becomes cleansed, some other area of putrid filth rears its head calling on only the Holy Lord to fix.
His great love and holiness prevents us from sitting forever in our sin.
He makes us too uncomfortable.
Being uncomfortable in our sin is part of the struggle.
That's a gift.
It's evidence of sanctification.
As Paul says in Philippians 2:12 "Continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act according to His good purpose."
Isn't there a constant tension as our flesh reveals itself and the
Holy Spirit works to combat it?
Shouldn't we struggle living in this world?
It's not our home.
What does it say about the state of our spiritual health if there is no struggle?
As a young woman, a wise friend asked me the state of my spiritual life.
Talk about a pointed question.
Everyone should have a friend willing to ask them that question.
I contemplated lying...
I knew all the "right" answers...
I'd said all the Christian phrases...
However, boldness sometimes invites honesty. Sometimes.
I answered truthfully, "I'm so tired of struggling with this. Where's the victory?"
She nodded her head and chuckled, "The struggle keeps you needing Him. I'd be more worried about you if you told me you weren't struggling with anything."
Defiantly, I claimed, "I'd need Him anyway. I don't need to struggle."
But the sad truth for me is that moments of great triumph and blessing in my life have often been eerily silent of my need for the Lord.
As I'm sick of my own struggle this week, it seems I need an attitude change toward the struggle itself.
Could I take joy in the struggle knowing that sanctification is on the other side?
Could I embrace the effort of working through my layered issues knowing that for now, this keeps me needing the Lord?"
It seems Christians should be able to openly answer at any time,
"How's the state of your spiritual life?"
and
"What's God letting you struggle with right now?"
And if those questions are offensive to us...
Perhaps we need to kneel before Him and check the state of our heart...
Sunday, March 4, 2012
After the plane lands...
Getting the homecoming call thrills the entire house...
Watching the plane land makes the families giddy with excitement...
Catching the first glimpse of him exiting the plane (last, of course) results in us all jumping with joy...
Stealing the first kiss brings comfort that he's safe...
Remembering how to be a family again...well, that takes work...
The days following a deployment...
A compassionate wife would wonder...
What's it like for him to leave his family, step into a world completely foreign to most people, do a job that you can't speak of, and then listen to others--who haven't been--share their opinions on what you're doing?
What's it like to have an aerial view in an arena that most of us don't understand?
What's it like to only know your part (your view through a soda straw) of the military puzzle and rely on the intel of others to inform you about the rest of the picture?
What's it like for him to do what he does?
A gracious wife might ask...
How do you prepare answers to the questions people ask about our role "over there" when you DO have a deep, gut opinion about the whole situation overseas, but you have to be careful in your speech---oh-so-careful about what you say...
A kind wife wouldn't ask questions that she knows you can't answer...
And she certainly wouldn't get irritated when you choose not to answer...
She would know the protocol by now...
She would understand...
A patient wife might ask him...
How do you make the switch from a combat mind-set to a family mind-set on the couple day plane trip home?
One day you are on 24 hour alert...
The next day you can let down your guard and sleep sound...
Over there people looked to you for leadership...
Over here you are trying to figure out how to lead a family that has led itself for the past couple months...
A loving wife would want to know...
How do you feel as the plane bringing you home makes it's final descent to your home base?
What are you thinking the moment you see your family waving the welcome signs anxious for your return?
What's it like to step back into your home for the first time after a deployment?
How excited are you to re-engage your kids?
How ready are you to reconnect with your wife?
How nervous are you to work your way back into a family that found a new way to function while you were gone?
What's that like?
A Proverbs 31 wife would take a deep breath, hold her tongue, and come along side her husband as he resumes his role...
I am that wife only on paper...
In real life, I'm too busy trying to make him understand what it's like to be the one on the ground holding the sign...
I love the idea of my family being back together...
I anticipated February 24th for two months...
But, putting our family back together takes time...and grace...and patience...and gentleness...and love...and the power of God...and more grace...
If I could just take this martyr hat off for a moment, I might fully enjoy not being in charge...
The wife I want to be would have already thrown away the "Welcome Home" signs and fully welcomed her husband back into the family...
But, for some reason, I'm still trying to let him know what it's like to be the ones at home...
The ones holding the signs...
It's been ten days...
It's time to throw away the signs...
Watching the plane land makes the families giddy with excitement...
Catching the first glimpse of him exiting the plane (last, of course) results in us all jumping with joy...
Stealing the first kiss brings comfort that he's safe...
Remembering how to be a family again...well, that takes work...
The days following a deployment...
A compassionate wife would wonder...
What's it like for him to leave his family, step into a world completely foreign to most people, do a job that you can't speak of, and then listen to others--who haven't been--share their opinions on what you're doing?
What's it like to have an aerial view in an arena that most of us don't understand?
What's it like to only know your part (your view through a soda straw) of the military puzzle and rely on the intel of others to inform you about the rest of the picture?
What's it like for him to do what he does?
A gracious wife might ask...
How do you prepare answers to the questions people ask about our role "over there" when you DO have a deep, gut opinion about the whole situation overseas, but you have to be careful in your speech---oh-so-careful about what you say...
A kind wife wouldn't ask questions that she knows you can't answer...
And she certainly wouldn't get irritated when you choose not to answer...
She would know the protocol by now...
She would understand...
A patient wife might ask him...
How do you make the switch from a combat mind-set to a family mind-set on the couple day plane trip home?
One day you are on 24 hour alert...
The next day you can let down your guard and sleep sound...
Over there people looked to you for leadership...
Over here you are trying to figure out how to lead a family that has led itself for the past couple months...
A loving wife would want to know...
How do you feel as the plane bringing you home makes it's final descent to your home base?
What are you thinking the moment you see your family waving the welcome signs anxious for your return?
What's it like to step back into your home for the first time after a deployment?
How excited are you to re-engage your kids?
How ready are you to reconnect with your wife?
How nervous are you to work your way back into a family that found a new way to function while you were gone?
What's that like?
A Proverbs 31 wife would take a deep breath, hold her tongue, and come along side her husband as he resumes his role...
I am that wife only on paper...
In real life, I'm too busy trying to make him understand what it's like to be the one on the ground holding the sign...
I love the idea of my family being back together...
I anticipated February 24th for two months...
But, putting our family back together takes time...and grace...and patience...and gentleness...and love...and the power of God...and more grace...
If I could just take this martyr hat off for a moment, I might fully enjoy not being in charge...
The wife I want to be would have already thrown away the "Welcome Home" signs and fully welcomed her husband back into the family...
But, for some reason, I'm still trying to let him know what it's like to be the ones at home...
The ones holding the signs...
It's been ten days...
It's time to throw away the signs...
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