It's So Much More

Pain. Searing, burning pain. Inward, outward, consuming her.  With final groan of agony the child comes forth into this cold rejecting world. Small, weak, needing her. Needing her nourishment, her warmth, her love and her care. His small, fragile life dangles, depending on her for survival. And yet as she looks down into her babes face she knows. It is not his survival that hangs in the balance. It is her own. This tiny helpless babe needing her care in order to live, is the one and only thing that can save her.
I can't imagine being Mary. One moment she was his mother. His world. Her milk nourished him. Her warmth comforted him. Her touch calmed him. To this tiny baby, she was everything. She was his world.
Then all too soon, she wasn't.
I wonder when it hit her. Was it when Simeon came to her in the temple? This old man, a stranger, waiting before death for one thing. Was it when he held her child and said that his eyes were beholding salvation?
Or maybe she began to understand when she found her lost son in the temple, speaking with the religious leaders and "being about his father's business." Did it stab at her heart in a way to hear him say that?
How do you parent the Son of God anyways? Was there an inward struggle as she sought to teach and train and raise him, but knowing that he would be the one to teach her? She was his mother. She was his everything......but she wasn't. He was her everything.
Then the miracles. He could do things, heal people, change things that were out of her control. That moment of desperation when all she wanted to do was fix the problem and the only one who could truly fix it was her son, the child that had depended on her for survival. Was there ever irritation or frustration that he was so much more than her? Did she ever want to shrink away because of how small she felt in comparison to her son?
Then the cross. I can't imagine the agony. Her son, her child who she loved with every ounce of human love, there hanging on a cross. And she down below, helpless to save him.
One moment he was a babe, needing her, depending on her for his very survival, the next moment, nailed to a tree, suffering in agony and there is absolutely nothing she can do.
She can't reach up and pull him to safety in her arms.
She can't ease the pain with a kiss.
She can't wrap him in a blanket and cuddle him.
But she can watch.
And as her heart screams in torrents of pain, she looks up and sees her son, her Savior, on that cross. Her precious, beautiful babe, is on that tree saving her, saving the world.
Then it hits her.
That moment.
The realization that she put him there.
Her little baby that she nursed and held and loved, the one thing that she wanted to save and protect more than anything in the world, she had nailed to the cross. That moment of utter desperation as she falls before her son, wanting only to rescue him from the agony, to save him from such pain, but being helpless to do so because that is the only way through which she herself might be saved.
He is saving her.
Small and weak.
Fragile.
Her life depends on him.
Her very survival depends on him.
The roles are switched.
Her son is more than just a babe. Her son is His Son. The Son of God. The Savior of the world. The Savior of Mary.
And she must let Him go for her own sake and the sake's of millions of billions of people in the span of time. She must release her precious child for the calling for which He came. When everything in her screams at her to pull him close and never let him go, that is when she must release Him. She is His mother, but He is her Savior and she is utterly helpless, lost, eternally dead without Him. He is her only Salvation.
That tiny little child came to die for her, to save her from herself.
The one thing she so desperately wanted to cling to was the very thing she had to let go. 

Mary had to rock her Savior to sleep and then she had to watch Him die.

Isn't that the essence of Christmas? Isn't that what we should be celebrating? Christmas is so much more than the baby. Christmas is about death and life and salvation made free.

God is Good - In Which I Share My Pre-Daylight Ramblings

Morning chill.
Hot Chai.
Good things for the brain before the sun rises. A moment or two spent in the Word. A journal page filled. Actually, filled is too nice a word. Crammed would be better. Crammed with words and dots and dashes, making up a short summary of the thoughts in my brain. It's early. There's a chance that what made sense a moment ago will appear to be a discombobulated jumble of words later. But it's out there.
Kaila's head before the sun rises.
Kaila's thoughts.
I call these thoughts, "God-thoughts." Little thoughts, here and there, with a similar theme; God. His wonder, His glory, His faith, His justice, His love. Thoughts on God. 

God is good.
Do you know that? It's a simple phrase. Something easily devalued. What worth is the word "good" nowadays anyways? We're all good here aren't we. Our efforts are good. Our piddley little tries are good. What's really good?
God is good.
God is very good.

Take a moment. Let it sink in. Let that thought consume your mind. Close your eyes.
He is good.
He is God.
God is good.

I've been thinking this "God-thought" a lot lately. Taking time to pause from my daily craziness and think. Stopping every now and then to let it overwhelm me. Spacing out in a moment of enraptured amazement. It's good to think on God's goodness. It does things to our hearts. It makes the momentary worries and confusions of this world seems small and inferior. God's goodness transforms worry into trust, love into hate, confusion into security, and the endless monotony of everyday things into purpose.

Now let's throw some Christmas into this "God-thought."
I'm usually quite the Christmas Elf, so to speak. Christmas music can't come fast enough. Holiday food and holiday cheer; things I thrive on and live for during December. Spray paint, ornaments, lights, ribbon! The stuff of life, right?
Not always.
It took me a bit longer to hit my holiday heights this year. My brain was preoccupied. Filled. Tired perhaps? But then I got to thinking about how good God is.

God is good.
He gives good gifts to His children.
He gave His Son as a baby.
Thus, Christmas.

That baby. Or I should write, that Baby. The Savior of the World. Humble, simple, small. Just a baby. But not just a baby. God's greatest gift. God's answer to thousands of prayers. God's healing for millions. God's salvation offered to all. This baby. This gift.

I wonder how many times the prophets of old had begged God for Him to send their Redeemer, the Messiah. How they must have yearned and pleaded and prayed. One by one, they died, ever praying, ever trusting, that one day their Deliverer was coming. And He came! Some were there to see Him. Some now get to hear of Him. Some simply got to hope and pray for Him. Each of us has our time and place. But the significance of this gift will never change.

Would I have been a good Isaiah? Could I have prophesied and told of the Messiah to come, with full faith and confidence, even though my eyes should never see Him? Would I have the faith to believe that this Gift God had promised was coming? Was for real? With my own people all around me, rejecting God, rejecting His goodness, would I have been able to trust that He is good and that He gives good gifts?
Am I able to trust now?
God has sent His Son. The Savior has come. The Savior has died and risen again. I have seen and heard the glories of God's gifts. Has that changed my trust?
Can I claim the goodness of God?
Can I rest assured in His promises?

My answer should be a resounding "YES!"
But my answer is rarely so confident.

Rather than trusting in His goodness, I find myself wallowing in my momentary afflictions; if they can even be called afflictions. It's more like wallowing in daily life and feeling blah because I'm too blind to open my eyes and see His goodness all around me. My pathetic drudging blinds my sight. My prayers, if any, become unfeeling requests of "help me get through today." My thoughts sit and dwell on my sorry self. It's pitiful. Not once do I think of the millions of people all over the world who actually have problems to deal with. It's all me, and my trials, and my whinings, my complainings, my groanings. And all for what? There's no purpose to it other than the wasting away of a life.

But, when God is good....
well, He's always good.
When God is good and I open my eyes to see it, there is something magical that changes. The heart becomes transformed. The mind becomes cleared. The prayers are real and living. The burdens of the saints become real. They become your burdens and you pray. You pray, not because it's what a Christian does, but you pray because you can't go without it. You NEED it, you CRAVE it, you LONG for that time to pour out your heart to God because HE IS GOOD!
He is good and He hears.
He hears the prayers we pray.
He hears the petitions of our hearts.
He savors our words, our feeble, jumbled, nonsensical words, because He is good and He loves us!

And the mores we taste of His goodness and love, the more we love.
We love Him.
We love others around us.
It's real, it's living, it's raging within us. Not just a sentimental, its-Christmas-we-should-love-everybody, but a real bearing of one another's burdens. It's a deeper, consuming kind of love that takes over, because when we taste His goodness and His love it changes us. It rocks our world!

There's a song. It's been stuck in my head lately. It asks a question. "What if we all loved like it's Christmas, more than once a year?" Why do we love at Christmas?
Could it be that the plastic, light-up nativity scene means more than decoration and charm? Could it be that bell ringers represent more than someone asking for money? Could it be that under all the commercial, holiday-hoobie-whatie, there's something more?
Yeah!
God's goodness!
God's love!
That's what's under it all!
And even though Christmas gets secularized and tinkered with, there is this underlying reminder of God's good Gift to the world that is almost impossible to miss unless your eyes are completely closed.
You know what I think? We should have that nativity scene out and lit up in June!
Let's be honest, we are forgetful people. We need that reminder up! We need to daily be reminded of God's goodness, of His Gift, of His love. Because we forget. We lose sight. We forget to pray. We forget that He hears.
God is good!

He is so SO GOOD!!!
And He loves us.

He loves us enough to say "No," and "Not yet." He loves us enough to make us wait. Isaiah didn't get to be there for Messiah's birth. But oh the glory that he must have felt in hearing from God the prophesy of Messiah! The prayerful hope and yearning for the Messiah, the Deliverer, the Son of God he must have felt! And us, we have seen and heard. Do we believe?

Is God good to you?
He is good.
But is He good to you? Do you see His goodness? Have you opened your eyes and heart to the goodness He has poured out?

Do you see that plastic, light up baby. It's a picture, a crude, plastic reminder. But it's real! That Baby changed everything. God's goodness in sending His Son, changed everything. We need to remember that. We need to claim that goodness.

Chai tea is gone.
It's still dark out.
I need another sweater.

God is good.
Don't forget.

Thankful for the Old Paths

Jeremiah 6:16

"Thus saith the Lord,

Stand ye in the ways, and see,

and ask for the old paths,

where is the good way, and walk therein,

and ye shall find rest for you souls..."

 

It's a day of thanksgiving and reflecting. I like to think all the way back to the Pilgrims sacrificing their very lives in a new land. No family was left unvisited by death and still, out of love for God, the set apart a time to stop and thank Him.

When I think of the old paths, I think of the roads that the ancients have trod. I think of the many examples given in Scripture and throughout all of history.

 

I picture Noah, walking the path that leads into the Ark.

Abraham, walking the path up to the altar to sacrifice his son.

Moses, climbing the path up Sinai where the Lord would visit him.

Joshua, leading Israel on a path through the Jordan river.

Ruth, on a path away from her home, following her mother-in-law Naomi.

David, marching up the path to the place where the giant Goliath waited.

Solomon, on the path going into the temple.

Esther, walking down the path leading to the king, uninvited.

Nehemiah, on the path back to the ruined Jerusalem.

Joseph and Mary, traveling on the path to Bethlehem.

Saul, falling on the path to Tarsus.

Peter, walking free on a path through opened prison doors.

 

 

Christ, on the path to Calvary.

 

Christ, on the path that leads from an empty grave.

 

These are the old paths. These are the paths that the Pilgrims followed. These are the paths that men and women, seeking to follow the Lord, have walked on. They have risen and fallen, but they stand secure. There is no safer path than the one the Lord leads you on.

 

"Just keep to the old paths,

And you'll find your way."

 

 

 



I Have Been Forgiven

And so, another Reformation Day Faire is over and as I reflect back I am simply filled with awe. I'm amazed at God's faithfulness, at His love, and His grace. God is the God who was and is to come. He never changes. He is infinite, unchangeable and sovereign regardless of our actions. The God I serve today is the same God who Patrick of Ireland served in the 5th century. The God who filled Patrick with love and compassion for his own captors is the God who can fill my heart with love for those who hurt and cause me pain. If you don't know the story of Patrick of Ireland you should really take some time to learn about this amazing man of God.

All weekend my mind kept racing back to just the sheer power of Patrick's decision to return to Ireland. If I had been kidnapped as a young teenager, sold into slavery in another country, escaped and returned to my home, I really think I would struggle with the idea of going back to that land even as a missionary. That kind of love and compassion isn't my sinful, natural reaction to hurt, but it is the natural reaction for someone who sees how much they have been forgiven. R. C. Sproul pointed out that Patrick lived out the phrase "I have been forgiven." In his actions and his desire to spread the gospel with the people of Ireland, he showed that the man who is forgiven much, loves much.

In my VOM classes this week, I started a new class on evangelizing. Why do I share the gospel? Why is it of any importance that I tell others the good news?  Why step out of my neat, secure comfort zone? What possesses other people to do so?
It's easy for me to slip back and forth between duty and love for God. But really, what is duty anyways?  Why bother doing something just because it's something that should be done?
Then I go back to Patrick. No duty there. Seriously, didn't the Celts deserve not to know the good news that Patrick knew? Did they deserve forgiveness?
Then again, did Patrick deserve to hear the gospel? Did he deserve forgiveness?

Did I deserve to be raised in a home where the gospel was daily preached?
Did I deserve God's forgiveness?

No.

But Christ looked down on this wretched, sinful being and loved me. He chose to save me even when my heart was in rebellion against Him. He forgave me. No duty. Just love. And it's that kind of love that He puts in our hearts. See, when I think about sharing the Gospel in light of my natural, sinful feelings, it's just too uncomfortable to be worth the risk. But when I think about sharing the Gospel in light of God's saving grace, His mercy, His love, and His compassion for me, suddenly the fear begins to melt away and I want to tell others. I want those that have hurt me to know that there is freedom in Christ and that He forgives! I want them to feel the power of Christ's love! When I look at how much God has forgiven me, I see a glory beyond comprehension! I want others to see that. Christ has saved me! He has redeemed me! No hurt, no shame, no pain can compete with the love of God.

That's why Patrick returned to Ireland. That's the only reason I can feel love and compassion for those who have hurt and wounded me. Apart from the Gospel, there is no reason to love those that have caused us pain and suffering. The question is, do we know the Gospel? Is it real for us today? Because if it is, I think we will look at life differently.

Knowing God More

"For the which cause I also suffer these things: nevertheless I am not ashamed: for I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day."
2 Timothy 1:12
The confidence that I hear is Paul's voice is amazing. "I am not ashamed: for I know whom I have believed..." Perhaps more of us need to know whom we have believed. Paul's confidence came from knowing God. Maybe if we knew God better our confidence in Him would be stronger.

I Said "Why?" And He Said "Who"

Tuesdays are my traveling days. I drive to my students homes on Tuesdays and since most of my students live rather far away, I get lots of alone-in-the-car time. The first few times I did my Tuesday routine I felt really bored driving so much, but then a brilliant friend of mine recommended talking to God while traveling about. Best idea ever!!! God and I have lots of very extensive conversations now. I told my sister that and she said, "Some conversation. Don't you need someone talking back to have a real conversation?" "No, He talks back."

"How?"

I didn't really know how to answer that one. I mumbled something about peace and leaves.....I think she thought I was going hippie based on the look she gave me. God does answer though. He does talk back. You just have to be listening for His answer.

I get in my car and drive. Mile by mile my heart is poured out to God. Lesson one down and I hop back in my car. The conversation picks up right where it left off. Then I decide it's time to be quite for a moment and listen.

School lets out a few minutes before I pass the high school. Each week I pass this boy who walks like Christian, with a burdensome backpack on his back. He never smiles and he always walks alone. I wonder why? Is he bullied? Does he just like the fresh air? Does he need alone time after a day with hundreds of youth all around him?

A block away I see the other regular - regular as in, I pass them every week - except she's not walking alone with her headphones on and tears on her cheeks. Today she's walking with a friend and they are laughing. Is that what she needed all this time? A friend? Did she hate walking alone every day?

I pass a gas station. An elderly man with long, shaggy white hair walks down the sidewalk. I chuckle. He looks just like the last picture of Einstein I saw, except for the baggy t-shirt and ripped jeans. He carries two bags of who-knows-what, back hunched over, hair blowing crazy in the wind.  What's his life like? What does he do? How many days does he have left here?

Fox Lake; I guess it's really not a small town, it's just easy to get through pretty quickly.....probably because no trains come through at the time I drive by. Sometimes I wonder how old the buildings are. Did anyone ever propose in that gazebo? How many people have boarded the train? How many ants have been killed on that sidewalk?

And suddenly it hits me like a load of bricks. He's answering me. I asked Him, "Why?" and He answers me by saying "Who?"
"Who made each of these people? Who made every tiny piece of everything you see? You wonder about their stories, there histories, there lives. Who already knows that? You know nothing and yet you daily question me. Look, see what I've done. See what I'm doing. Do you have the faith to believe that I am God and I am in control."



A couple weeks ago, in my Biblical Studies of Persecution class, my professor made note of this. He said that often when we ask God the why's in life and rather than handing us the answers we're looking for, He reveals Himself to us more. It's so true. Even when I fail to recognize His revealing, He is always there showing Himself stronger to me. There are stories swirling all around me like the fall leaves. Lives are being lived, lives are being ended. The world is a constant circuit of motion and activity and really, in all honesty, I know nothing. I don't know a thing about their lives other than that I pass them every Tuesday. I don't know what their lives are like, I don't know what they're thinking, what they're going through, and I probably never will know.
God knows all of that! He knows everything about everyone.
My brain cannot comprehend that.
He is infinite and I am finite.
He is worthy of my trust, my faith, my life.....He's worthy of my all.

And that's how He talks to me. Through people, through towns, through leaves, through sidewalks. He speaks, and if I am quiet enough to listen for a moment, I see Him revealing more and more of Himself to me.

Revolt Against "Busy"

Today was a beautiful autumn day!!! It was just so amazingly gorgeous that I couldn't help feeling completely happy. As I was walking to my car after working at the Pregnancy Center I simply felt like dancing around town just like the leaves that were falling from the trees. Of course, that urge to dance was probably aided much by the tuba player that was standing at the street corner playing a simply enchanting rendition of "Simple Gifts." The fresh autumn air was just so intoxicating that I knew I could not stay inside the rest of the day, so after dinner I went outside and played catch with Jared for the first time in years. Over the weekend I attempted to play football and was very quickly reminded of the fact that I have not played football in probably close to two years. Sad. I couldn't throw or catch. It was utterly pathetic and totally hilarious. (Yes, I can laugh at myself. I've learned that I have two options in life; laugh or be completely embarrassed.) Anyways, it was a lot of fun and I when I finally threw the perfect, deep spiral, let me tell you, I did a happy dance that could put most touch down dances to shame! ;)

What's my point you ask??
Glad you asked......or wait.....did I just ask that for you????

My point is, today was awesome mainly because amidst the busyness of the day I was able to be "not busy" for half and hour and got to spend some wonderful quality time with a brother that I really don't get to hang out with a lot.

Life is busy. Let's face it, we're all busy. I feel like hitting myself every time someone asks me how I'm doing and say the same dumb line I always say.

"I'm good, busy but I'm doing good."
(palm to forehead)

Seriously, of course I'm busy. Of course you're busy. We say the same thing to each other ever single week. What if we all started saying things like:
"God has blessed me with a full week and I am praising Him for His goodness."
or
"God's given me plenty to do, which may be tiring at times, but it's wonderful."
or
"I am doing great because Christ saved me and gave me a life to live for Him."

I know why I don't say things like that. I don't say those things because I'm not being grateful to God for all that He has placed in my life. I ask Him to fill my life and give me purpose, then I proceed to complain about being tired and constantly tell people that "I am busy." Busy is such a dumb word. It makes be think of chores and jobs and drudgery and monotonous blah.

I had this thought. What if instead of being busy, I just started being blessed. Really, all of the things that make my life busy are blessings. They are all things I love and gifts from God. What if I started viewing them as such.
What if I looked at making breakfast - my least favorite meal - as a blessing?
What if I thought of washing dishes as a blessing?
How about grocery shopping, babysitting, piano teaching, Bible studies, sibling chauffeuring etc.?
Because really, they all are.
It's a blessing that I have a family to cook for and dishes to eat from. It's a blessing that I know how to go grocery shopping. It's a blessing that God has given me piano students to teach and the ability to teach them. It's a blessing that I can help watch children at church and for other families. It's a blessing that I can drive - and not just any old car, but big vehicles like the invincible 15-passenger. It's a blessing that I can do laundry, help my family, take Bible classes, and be part of an amazing church.
Really the only thing that's not much of a blessing is the bad attitude I carry with me as I do all those things.

So, here's the plan. I'm revolting against busyness. I'm sick of being busy. Frankly, I got everything done that I needed to today and then had extra time to have fun with my siblings simply because I decided to quit being busy. I still got up at 4, did Bible classes, made breakfast, cleaned the kitchen, got some stuff done on the computer, practiced piano, worked at a Pregnancy Helpline Center from 10am-4pm, ate dinner, played outside, cleaned the kitchen, and all the other things I did today, but I never once felt busy. I purposed in my heart to view each thing as a blessing and it was simply fabulous! I was blessed today.
I wasn't busy.
I was blessed.
And I loved it!
I got to savor every moment of the day and it was simply smashing.
(Please don't mistake that list of things as a brag list......my Mom has me about tripled as far as the amount of things she accomplishes in a day. I'm just making a point that while I was busy, I wasn't really busy but blessed. Make sense???)

And now I need your help. If you ever happen to ask me how I am doing and I say the word busy, PLEASE stop me. Point out my slip up and just smile if I turn red. It's good for me. I want to quit talking about how busy I am all the time. I am blessed! Blessed beyond measure.
I want to revolt against this silly 4-letter word once and for all. :-)

It's time for me to start looking at this beautiful life He's given as a blessing rather than a burden.






Just one more side note: I know that sometimes we become discouraged and life gets tough. Honesty is important and I don't want you to think that I am encouraging us all to be fake and act like we're feeling great if we really are downtrodden and heavy laden. As the body of Christ, we are here to help one another and bear one another's burdens. Even though I know am blessed beyond measure, I still get tired and worn out. It's okay to ask for pray and seek encouragement. We should be praying for each other on a regular basis anyways.