Friday, July 20, 2018
the problem of self-preservation
Self-preservation is not a virtue.
I recently read an article by a new foster parent over at The Archibald Project who shared this thought. It's been tumbling around, echoing in my head ever since.
I am an expert in self-preservation. Limits and boundaries and space are a few of my closest friends. I am afraid of feeling things too deeply, of the inevitability of walking in pain or grief. I'm very concerned with not giving too much of myself away. And I hold up the ideals of self-preservation as if they are gospel, when what they actually offer me is a life devoid of love that's deep, sacrificial, or purposeful.
So for anyone thinking we are special unicorn people for being willing to step into foster care, I hope this small window into my soul clears things up for you. My instincts for protecting myself from pain, worry, discomfort, exhaustion are so high that I know it will require constant, intentional effort to love these kids as God has called us to.
But the truth that is so present on my mind as we prepare for this life change is the worthiness of these kids to be fully loved, and kept safe, and to experience real attachment - perhaps for the first time. They are worthy of my attention, my sleeplessness, my encouragement, my energy, my affection, and even of my heartbreak if/when they leave our home.
I'm trusting God's transforming power to remake me through this process. I know it is as much for my own good as I hope it will be for the good of the children in our care. And I'm asking him to strip away this deep desire for self-preservation, that instead he will help me to understand more fully the love that compelled Christ to give himself away completely for us.
Thursday, August 20, 2015
love him less.
For most of my life, though I have had close relationships with family and good friends, there was still a deep longing in me to know and be known deeply by another.
Until I was 22 years old (and married Mark), that "another" was the Lord. Though I had plenty of times I could characterize as "lonely", I also shared such a deep, rich fellowship with God. I knew what it was like to turn to him first, to confide in him, to cry out to him.
Then, as Mark and I entered into marriage, there was a subtle shift-- so subtle, in fact, that it took me almost two years to realize it.
Life changed quickly around us: brand new marriage, new city, new jobs. New, new, new. And we were each the only person the other knew. In the midst of this significant change, when I felt swallowed up by my circumstances, it was my first instinct to take hold of whatever was steady and within my reach.
While of course the Lord was very present with us in that season, I started to substitute God's intangible presence for the tangible- my husband. It's difficult to trust when we're struggling that God is there, that he cares.
Mark, on the other hand, was right in front of my face. He knew me, he was committed to me. It was far easier- and instantly gratifying- to share my thoughts and feelings with someone I could see, who could show me in that moment that he heard me.
While Mark knows and loves the Lord and does his best to point me to him, I have recently found that I have become content with simply exposing my heart before my husband, rather than turning to my God.
This has meant affections that are divided; interests turned to the immediate. Not seeking or trusting the sovereign care, works, and timing of my God.
This summer I have been reading A Severe Mercy. It is a beautiful book in which the author falls in love, marries, has great adventures, and later comes to know the Lord, enduring difficult circumstances by faith in Christ.
Before the author and his wife know God, they speak of how they will keep their love alive: by sharing in everything. They call it the "Shining Barrier" that will sustain their relationship. I was so taken with this notion at its surface- it has a lovely appeal. And, of course, it is true on some level. A relationship without sharing- in communication, in time, in each other's burdens- will not survive.
However, I know more deeply that a dynamic, flourishing relationship with God is the only way for a human love to be sustained. Therefore, I desire, by the help of the Spirit, to pursue deep fellowship with the Lord, knowing that in this union a deeper union with my husband will also thrive.
After all, marriage is a picture of Christ and his church. Our marriages are to reflect the relationship that we share with Christ. (Eph. 5:22-33)
At our wedding, my dad read a poem written by John Piper (which Piper wrote for his son when he got married). Of course, he's writing to the husband, but the truth is for us both. I love Mark more when I love him less than I love God.
"Yes, love her, love her, more than life;
O, love the woman called your wife.
Go love her as your earthly best.
O, love the woman called your wife.
Go love her as your earthly best.
Beyond this venture not. But, lest
Your love become a fool's facade,
Be sure to love her less than God.
Your love become a fool's facade,
Be sure to love her less than God.
It is not wise or kind to call
An idol by sweet names, and fall,
As in humility, before
A likeness of your God. Adore
Above your best beloved on earth
The God alone who gives her worth.
And she will know in second place
That your great love is also grace,
And that your high affections now
Are flowing freely from a vow
Beneath these promises, first made
To you by God. Nor will they fade
For being rooted by the stream
Of Heaven's Joy, which you esteem
And cherish more than breath and life,
That you may give it to your wife.
An idol by sweet names, and fall,
As in humility, before
A likeness of your God. Adore
Above your best beloved on earth
The God alone who gives her worth.
And she will know in second place
That your great love is also grace,
And that your high affections now
Are flowing freely from a vow
Beneath these promises, first made
To you by God. Nor will they fade
For being rooted by the stream
Of Heaven's Joy, which you esteem
And cherish more than breath and life,
That you may give it to your wife.
The greatest gift you give your wife
Is loving God above her life.
And thus I bid you now to bless:
Go love her more by loving less."
Is loving God above her life.
And thus I bid you now to bless:
Go love her more by loving less."
Wednesday, June 17, 2015
In the End, Joy: Remembering Elisabeth Elliot
In a culture that is driven by the American dream, where independence, hard work, and getting ahead are prized, I see a lack of acknowledgement for the people that shape who we are. I had never noticed this as a blind spot in my own life until earlier this week when Elisabeth Elliot, a woman whose writing had a profound impact on me at a very important time of my life, passed away.
As I thought about who she was and what her voice has meant to my life, I was convicted that I don't often take the time to truly acknowledge and appreciate the people that the Lord uses to teach me about himself. I felt a deep thankfulness stirring in my soul, and therefore compelled to share what Elisabeth Elliot meant to me.
Elliot's writing found me in my freshman year of college, in a time when I had begun to discern a longing in my heart for a relationship.
As I thought about who she was and what her voice has meant to my life, I was convicted that I don't often take the time to truly acknowledge and appreciate the people that the Lord uses to teach me about himself. I felt a deep thankfulness stirring in my soul, and therefore compelled to share what Elisabeth Elliot meant to me.
Elliot's writing found me in my freshman year of college, in a time when I had begun to discern a longing in my heart for a relationship.
In high school, I decided early on that dating during that season of life wouldn't be for me. And I lived (mostly) contentedly in that freedom, thankful for the richness of friendships that high school brought because my focus had not been on dating. I was also thankful for the chance to got to know guys my age as brothers in Christ.
But as I entered college, I knew this season was changing, that I desired a relationship, and that it was becoming very present on my heart and mind. I had started to view friendships with guys differently, thinking: what if this or that guy is the guy?
I knew that I needed to think and process these desires in a biblical way, that I wanted to understand contentment in the midst of a new season, and I started looking for resources that could be helpful. I'm not sure how I stumbled upon it, but somehow I got a copy of Passion and Purity in my hands, and I couldn't put it down.
I was already familiar with Elisabeth Elliot from reading Shadow of the Almighty a few years prior. I had read of Jim Elliot's deep life of faith and desire to bring the gospel to the nations. I also knew some of her story-- she had continued that mission to the very people that had killed her husband, seeing many of the same tribe come to faith in Christ.
I was already familiar with Elisabeth Elliot from reading Shadow of the Almighty a few years prior. I had read of Jim Elliot's deep life of faith and desire to bring the gospel to the nations. I also knew some of her story-- she had continued that mission to the very people that had killed her husband, seeing many of the same tribe come to faith in Christ.
But Passion and Purity revealed more of Elisabeth Elliot to me. It quickly became clear to me that she had such a rich life with the Lord. I had expected a (probably cheesy) book with some practical advice about contentment and relationships and purity. Instead, what I experienced was a deeper understanding of the heart of God and what it looks like to faithfully submit to His will.
Elliot had a way of being so honest about her struggles and longings that drew me in, but she consistently and faithfully submitted them to God. It didn't mean that waiting on the Lord's will was easy for her, or that her flesh didn't fight against it, but rather that she sought obedience over the fulfillment of her fleshly desires, and found a great refuge in communing with the Lord.
She talked a lot about how the Lord refines us and draws us to himself as we bring our thoughts and struggles and longings to him. "The deepest spiritual lessons are not learned by his letting us have our way in the end, but by His making us wait, bearing with us in love and patience until we are able honestly to pray what He taught His disciples to pray: Thy will be done."
"When obedience to God contradicts what I think will give me pleasure, let me ask myself if I love Him. If I can say yes to that question, can't I say yes to pleasing Him? Can't I say yes even if it means a sacrifice? A little quiet reflection will remind me that yes to God always leads in the end to joy. We can absolutely bank on that."
These thoughts (and several more!) served as a powerful example for me. Of course, namely at the time I applied them to my desire to find contentment in singleness, or godliness in a relationship. But ever since my first reading of Passion and Purity, I have revisited it several times. While Elliot's story in this particular work centers around the Lord's will for her relationship with Jim, it also told a larger story of longing, of sacrifice, of sanctification and deeper pursuit of God.
I will always be thankful for the life and faith of Elisabeth Elliot. I will not forget the important ways that God used her in my own life, drawing me to deeper love and thankfulness to Him.
Elliot had a way of being so honest about her struggles and longings that drew me in, but she consistently and faithfully submitted them to God. It didn't mean that waiting on the Lord's will was easy for her, or that her flesh didn't fight against it, but rather that she sought obedience over the fulfillment of her fleshly desires, and found a great refuge in communing with the Lord.
She talked a lot about how the Lord refines us and draws us to himself as we bring our thoughts and struggles and longings to him. "The deepest spiritual lessons are not learned by his letting us have our way in the end, but by His making us wait, bearing with us in love and patience until we are able honestly to pray what He taught His disciples to pray: Thy will be done."
"When obedience to God contradicts what I think will give me pleasure, let me ask myself if I love Him. If I can say yes to that question, can't I say yes to pleasing Him? Can't I say yes even if it means a sacrifice? A little quiet reflection will remind me that yes to God always leads in the end to joy. We can absolutely bank on that."
These thoughts (and several more!) served as a powerful example for me. Of course, namely at the time I applied them to my desire to find contentment in singleness, or godliness in a relationship. But ever since my first reading of Passion and Purity, I have revisited it several times. While Elliot's story in this particular work centers around the Lord's will for her relationship with Jim, it also told a larger story of longing, of sacrifice, of sanctification and deeper pursuit of God.
I will always be thankful for the life and faith of Elisabeth Elliot. I will not forget the important ways that God used her in my own life, drawing me to deeper love and thankfulness to Him.
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
on limitations
Recently in our small group we talked about limitations-- about how part of the experience of being human is to have limits. We can't do all the things we want to do. We're limited by time, by physical and emotional needs, etc. But for whatever reason, we have this insatiable desire to do everything, to excel in everything. We feel like we need to make ourselves busy, because in doing more, we'll get ahead (or at least we'll feel really good about how much we're doing--because busyness is next to godliness, right???).
However, after weeks and months of underlying anxiety as I run through mental to-do lists, and discouragement at the end of every day when I inevitably fail or come up short in one way or another (or sometimes in every way), I cannot ignore that I have limits.
The Lord has been kindly reminding me that my limitations are actually by His design.
It's funny how I tend to believe things about God in theory but not let my heart really rest in their truth. For instance: I "know" that I have a deep, abiding need for God. I "know" that he desires for me to acknowledge this need, that he desires to help me, showing himself strong and good and glorious in my life. But I often live as though I am expected to do everything with perfect ease, on my own.
I'm thankful to know a God who has not left me on my own, who lets me know when I am relying on myself rather than running to him in my weakness.
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. -2 Corinthians 12:9
My desires to perform well in my job and school, to be a good wife/daughter/sister/friend, or to improve in discipline are not wrong, but the fact that I don't always measure up is a constant reminder of my need for God. I'm learning to be thankful for my limitations and my weakness, so that the power of Christ may be made more evident in my life. I'm learning what rest looks like in light of these truths.
I read this yesterday and am adopting it as my prayer too: "give me grace to know more my need of grace...reveal to me my weakness that I may know my strength in thee." (The Valley of Vision)
It's funny how I tend to believe things about God in theory but not let my heart really rest in their truth. For instance: I "know" that I have a deep, abiding need for God. I "know" that he desires for me to acknowledge this need, that he desires to help me, showing himself strong and good and glorious in my life. But I often live as though I am expected to do everything with perfect ease, on my own.
I'm thankful to know a God who has not left me on my own, who lets me know when I am relying on myself rather than running to him in my weakness.
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. -2 Corinthians 12:9
My desires to perform well in my job and school, to be a good wife/daughter/sister/friend, or to improve in discipline are not wrong, but the fact that I don't always measure up is a constant reminder of my need for God. I'm learning to be thankful for my limitations and my weakness, so that the power of Christ may be made more evident in my life. I'm learning what rest looks like in light of these truths.
I read this yesterday and am adopting it as my prayer too: "give me grace to know more my need of grace...reveal to me my weakness that I may know my strength in thee." (The Valley of Vision)
Monday, April 6, 2015
new things.
There's been a little over a year of silence in this space, and I wish I had more to show for it. There are plenty of reasons I could list, excuses I could make. Mostly I think it has a lot to do with insecurity-- looking around and feeling like I couldn't possibly have anything worthwhile to contribute, especially when there's already so much to consume, and most of it is much better than what I have to offer.
But I've realized I need an outlet. And even though what is found here may not be exceptional, it is good for me to process, to record, to create. So I'm giving it another go :)
------------------------------
Yesterday was Easter, and our pastor preached a beautiful sermon from 1 Corinthians 15:50-58. Discouragement has characterized this season for me, but I find comfort in remembering that my sanctification is a slow, often painful work, spanning my entire life. It won't always feel like victory, but I can be confident that as I continue to seek the Lord, he will change my heart. I am also filled with hope for the day when I have a resurrection body, completely free from sin and alive to God.
We Shall All Be Changed
Resurrection bodies—
we shall all be changed.
For as in Adam all die,
so also in Christ
shall all be made alive.
Just as we have borne
the image of the man of dust,
we shall also bear
the image of the man of heaven.
The last enemy
to be destroyed
is death.
Resurrection bodies:
we shall all be changed.
(a found poem, based on 1 Cor. 15)
Monday, March 24, 2014
longing transforms obedience.
I spend time every Sunday afternoon talking about the Bible with a handful of sixth grade girls. It's been really helpful and challenging to think through how to present hard concepts in a way that will make sense to the girls without watering things down. Every week the Lord's been exposing my own lack of understanding in the things I'm preparing to share with them, using it to instruct my heart as well.
A few weeks ago, the topic was sanctification. The most helpful definition I found was Wayne Grudem's: Sanctification is a progressive work of God and man that makes us more and more free from sin and like Christ in our actual lives.
In other words, believers play an active role in the sanctification process. Though the cross was a free work of grace on our behalf, and salvation comes about when the Spirit draws us (because we cannot see the loveliness or necessity of the cross unless he opens our eyes to it), sanctification is a progressive work of God and man. We see this in verses like Philippians 2:12-13, "...work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for God is at work in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure," or Romans 8:13, "...if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live."
Of course, putting our sinful deeds to death is only possible because the Holy Spirit dwells within us, but there is still an element of responsibility-- of activity-- there that is undeniable.
I've been thinking about this a lot lately. In myself I still see so much unfaithfulness and disobedience to God, starting with a daily struggle to spend time with Him. I've sought better systems of time management, tried harder to value the things of God over shallow distractions, and still come up hopelessly short. So I often throw out the discipline and decide just to wait around for things to be different-- to want to want Him more. As if not pursuing God will somehow lead to loving him more. It's a good thing God is so gracious, because my thoughts are pretty foolish A LOT of the time.
Here's what he's been reminding me: though actively fighting for sanctification is difficult, and though I will struggle against fleshly desires until the day that I die, God is so unbelievably good. He has designed you and I for union with Himself. And when we do pursue faithful obedience to Him, He changes our desires-- "longing transforms obedience" (C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory)-- so that what was once difficult or even drudgery instead becomes delight. And God is glorified when I am satisfied in Him. Isn't this a beautiful truth?
So I will continue to fight (with the help of the Spirit and the encouragement of other believers) for sanctification-- for self-discipline, knowing that the Lord's beauty shines forth when I learn to long for more of Him.
A few weeks ago, the topic was sanctification. The most helpful definition I found was Wayne Grudem's: Sanctification is a progressive work of God and man that makes us more and more free from sin and like Christ in our actual lives.
In other words, believers play an active role in the sanctification process. Though the cross was a free work of grace on our behalf, and salvation comes about when the Spirit draws us (because we cannot see the loveliness or necessity of the cross unless he opens our eyes to it), sanctification is a progressive work of God and man. We see this in verses like Philippians 2:12-13, "...work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for God is at work in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure," or Romans 8:13, "...if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live."
Of course, putting our sinful deeds to death is only possible because the Holy Spirit dwells within us, but there is still an element of responsibility-- of activity-- there that is undeniable.
I've been thinking about this a lot lately. In myself I still see so much unfaithfulness and disobedience to God, starting with a daily struggle to spend time with Him. I've sought better systems of time management, tried harder to value the things of God over shallow distractions, and still come up hopelessly short. So I often throw out the discipline and decide just to wait around for things to be different-- to want to want Him more. As if not pursuing God will somehow lead to loving him more. It's a good thing God is so gracious, because my thoughts are pretty foolish A LOT of the time.
Here's what he's been reminding me: though actively fighting for sanctification is difficult, and though I will struggle against fleshly desires until the day that I die, God is so unbelievably good. He has designed you and I for union with Himself. And when we do pursue faithful obedience to Him, He changes our desires-- "longing transforms obedience" (C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory)-- so that what was once difficult or even drudgery instead becomes delight. And God is glorified when I am satisfied in Him. Isn't this a beautiful truth?
So I will continue to fight (with the help of the Spirit and the encouragement of other believers) for sanctification-- for self-discipline, knowing that the Lord's beauty shines forth when I learn to long for more of Him.
Monday, March 3, 2014
beware of introspection.
I've grown up in a culture that celebrates "finding yourself" and "knowing yourself", "self-help" and becoming "self-aware" or "self-actualized". I've noticed that Christianity isn't always quick to separate from these popular ideals, because, frankly, we are pretty fond of ourselves. We like it when things are about us. Right? Introspection has been one category of self-love that I've been learning a lot about lately.
I was sitting in class the other night and my professor was discussing heart worship. He was explaining the various ways we deceive ourselves into thinking the various lusts of our hearts aren't really so bad (avoiding the use of words like "lusts", for instance- instead, "misplaced priorities" or "bad habits"). He made a passing comment-- beware of introspection; and cited it to Martin Lloyd-Jones. My ears perked up at the phrase and all at once I was instinctively curious and confused-- Wait. Introspection is a bad thing? Because I'm pretty sure that is a frequent inner reality for me.
So I found the original quotation:
"I suggest that we cross the line from self-examination to introspection when, in a sense, we do nothing but examine ourselves, and when such self-examination becomes the main and chief end of our life. We are meant to examine ourselves periodically, but if we are always doing it, always, as it were, putting our soul on a plate and dissecting it, that is introspection. And if we are always talking to people about ourselves and our problems and troubles, and if we are forever going to them with that kind of frown upon our face saying: I am in great difficulty- it probably means that we are all the time centered upon ourselves. That is introspection..." -Martin Lloyd-Jones, Spiritual Depression
For the last few weeks in particular, I've spent a lot of time inside my own head, analyzing and over-analyzing my own thoughts, behaviors and motivations. I've been incredibly discouraged, because I am (surprise!) pretty screwed up and sinful. Then I read these words from Lloyd-Jones, and I realized that I haven't been self-examining at all. I've given in to blatant introspection, and my thoughts have been completely centered on myself.
How can I tell the difference? Because it didn't lead to repentance. It wasn't rooted in my understanding of a holy God that I can never measure up to and desperately need grace from to change, just to more thoughts about me and my own inadequacy. Because it was condemning-- it didn't point me to the goodness and grace of Christ and his saving work on the cross. Because it didn't draw me away from me, but further into me.
"For godly grief [over sin] produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death." -2 Corinthians 7:10
Lord, help me by your Spirit to seek repentance-producing, godly grief that honors you and your saving and sanctifying work in me. Give me the strength and discernment to fight the entanglement of my own fleshly, introspective, worldly grief.
I was sitting in class the other night and my professor was discussing heart worship. He was explaining the various ways we deceive ourselves into thinking the various lusts of our hearts aren't really so bad (avoiding the use of words like "lusts", for instance- instead, "misplaced priorities" or "bad habits"). He made a passing comment-- beware of introspection; and cited it to Martin Lloyd-Jones. My ears perked up at the phrase and all at once I was instinctively curious and confused-- Wait. Introspection is a bad thing? Because I'm pretty sure that is a frequent inner reality for me.
So I found the original quotation:
"I suggest that we cross the line from self-examination to introspection when, in a sense, we do nothing but examine ourselves, and when such self-examination becomes the main and chief end of our life. We are meant to examine ourselves periodically, but if we are always doing it, always, as it were, putting our soul on a plate and dissecting it, that is introspection. And if we are always talking to people about ourselves and our problems and troubles, and if we are forever going to them with that kind of frown upon our face saying: I am in great difficulty- it probably means that we are all the time centered upon ourselves. That is introspection..." -Martin Lloyd-Jones, Spiritual Depression
For the last few weeks in particular, I've spent a lot of time inside my own head, analyzing and over-analyzing my own thoughts, behaviors and motivations. I've been incredibly discouraged, because I am (surprise!) pretty screwed up and sinful. Then I read these words from Lloyd-Jones, and I realized that I haven't been self-examining at all. I've given in to blatant introspection, and my thoughts have been completely centered on myself.
How can I tell the difference? Because it didn't lead to repentance. It wasn't rooted in my understanding of a holy God that I can never measure up to and desperately need grace from to change, just to more thoughts about me and my own inadequacy. Because it was condemning-- it didn't point me to the goodness and grace of Christ and his saving work on the cross. Because it didn't draw me away from me, but further into me.
"For godly grief [over sin] produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death." -2 Corinthians 7:10
Lord, help me by your Spirit to seek repentance-producing, godly grief that honors you and your saving and sanctifying work in me. Give me the strength and discernment to fight the entanglement of my own fleshly, introspective, worldly grief.
Monday, January 20, 2014
morning.
"Compassionate Lord,
Thy mercies have brought me the dawn of another day,
Vain will be its gift unless I grow in grace,
increase in knowledge,
ripen for spiritual harvest.
Let me this day know thee as thou art,
love thee supremely,
serve thee wholly,
admire thee fully.
Through grace let my will respond to thee,
Knowing that power to obey is not in me, but
that thy free love alone enables me to serve thee."
-puritan prayer, The Valley of Vision
Thy mercies have brought me the dawn of another day,
Vain will be its gift unless I grow in grace,
increase in knowledge,
ripen for spiritual harvest.
Let me this day know thee as thou art,
love thee supremely,
serve thee wholly,
admire thee fully.
Through grace let my will respond to thee,
Knowing that power to obey is not in me, but
that thy free love alone enables me to serve thee."
-puritan prayer, The Valley of Vision
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
on forgetting.
I'm realizing more and more that I definitely picked the right name for this blog. There are plenty of things I don't forget-- song lyrics dating back to the late 90's/early 2000's, where Mark left his phone/keys/wallet, etc. last, where I'm supposed to be at any given time (I don't keep a planner!), specific (and even sometimes obscure) details that people have shared with me about themselves/their lives... the list goes on.
However, the things I do seem to forget are the ones that ought to be most planted in my heart. And sometimes, I find there are things that I am even willing myself to forget.
I'm realizing that I have fallen into a very dangerous habit of deciding heartbreak isn't worth the trouble. Let me explain- there are a few people in my life who I care about very deeply who do not know Christ. Not only do they not know him, but they have no desire to know him- they are hostile toward even the idea of God.
For the last few years, this reality has been very difficult for me to deal with. So for a long time, I did the only thing I could think of- I ran to the Lord and asked him to change their hearts, to draw near to them, to reveal himself to them. I was in anguish over their souls. I hurt for them and cried and looked to God's Word and clung to Christ.
But, more recently, I've been doing something else entirely. Instead of seeing their hurts and their sin and their brokenness, and instead of pleading with the Lord to intervene in their hearts, I have tried desperately to forget. Because somewhere along the line I decided that it hurt too much.
Before anyone starts feeling sorry for me, let me just point out what has become very clear to me in the last few weeks-- this "forgetting" I've been doing is completely unloving and totally self-serving. There's no other way to spin it. As it turns out, it is easier not to think about the things that burden my heart. It's also sin.
I have not allowed the vulnerability of pain (over the same things that burden God's own heart!) to be a reality in my life, and I have not trusted in God's power to redeem- to draw near to hearts that are far from him, to open blind eyes, to bring new life.
Though my flesh would prefer that I could skip the hard, painful stuff, the Holy Spirit gently convicts with the reminder that a heart set on contemplating gospel truths cannot help but be broken for those who do not know them. My heart has not been saturated with the gospel, and therefore the overflow of my heart has been selfishness and apathy.
In "A Gospel Primer", Milton Vincent lays out Paul's pattern of thinking in Romans 5-9. In chapters 5-8, Paul shares numerous gospel truths-- because of Christ's sacrificial death we have the free gift of God's grace and everlasting love, we have been set free from sin, we are now in the Spirit, we are heirs with Christ and await future glory- these chapters are beautiful and filled with good news for believers. Then, on the heels of his joy from knowing and delighting in these truths, Paul launches into chapter 9. Here he shares that he has "great sorrow and unceasing anguish" (vs 2) in his heart for his kinsmen who do not know Christ.
I need fresh reminders of the gospel to rejoice in my salvation, to dissolve my self-centered tendencies and to break my heart anew for the lost.
However, the things I do seem to forget are the ones that ought to be most planted in my heart. And sometimes, I find there are things that I am even willing myself to forget.
I'm realizing that I have fallen into a very dangerous habit of deciding heartbreak isn't worth the trouble. Let me explain- there are a few people in my life who I care about very deeply who do not know Christ. Not only do they not know him, but they have no desire to know him- they are hostile toward even the idea of God.
For the last few years, this reality has been very difficult for me to deal with. So for a long time, I did the only thing I could think of- I ran to the Lord and asked him to change their hearts, to draw near to them, to reveal himself to them. I was in anguish over their souls. I hurt for them and cried and looked to God's Word and clung to Christ.
But, more recently, I've been doing something else entirely. Instead of seeing their hurts and their sin and their brokenness, and instead of pleading with the Lord to intervene in their hearts, I have tried desperately to forget. Because somewhere along the line I decided that it hurt too much.
Before anyone starts feeling sorry for me, let me just point out what has become very clear to me in the last few weeks-- this "forgetting" I've been doing is completely unloving and totally self-serving. There's no other way to spin it. As it turns out, it is easier not to think about the things that burden my heart. It's also sin.
I have not allowed the vulnerability of pain (over the same things that burden God's own heart!) to be a reality in my life, and I have not trusted in God's power to redeem- to draw near to hearts that are far from him, to open blind eyes, to bring new life.
Though my flesh would prefer that I could skip the hard, painful stuff, the Holy Spirit gently convicts with the reminder that a heart set on contemplating gospel truths cannot help but be broken for those who do not know them. My heart has not been saturated with the gospel, and therefore the overflow of my heart has been selfishness and apathy.
In "A Gospel Primer", Milton Vincent lays out Paul's pattern of thinking in Romans 5-9. In chapters 5-8, Paul shares numerous gospel truths-- because of Christ's sacrificial death we have the free gift of God's grace and everlasting love, we have been set free from sin, we are now in the Spirit, we are heirs with Christ and await future glory- these chapters are beautiful and filled with good news for believers. Then, on the heels of his joy from knowing and delighting in these truths, Paul launches into chapter 9. Here he shares that he has "great sorrow and unceasing anguish" (vs 2) in his heart for his kinsmen who do not know Christ.
I need fresh reminders of the gospel to rejoice in my salvation, to dissolve my self-centered tendencies and to break my heart anew for the lost.
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
a greater beauty.
"Our idols cannot merely be suppressed. They must be eclipsed by a greater beauty..."
I recently came across this phrase and it has been echoing in my head ever since. I have been convicted of the fact that I often tend toward the suppression of idols. When I recognize an idol (usually it is myself, my comfort, my happiness, etc.) in my life, I try to push it aside or away. Sometimes this looks like blatantly ignoring my sin (...maybe if I just forget it's there, then it'll go away, right??). Sometimes it means making an active effort toward improving the thought or behavior (I haven't been nice to my husband...so I'll start being nicer! I'll do something special for him! Surely that will gloss over the fact that I've been a jerk and will make everything better...right?).
These thoughts sound pretty lame as I type them, but they're the things that really go through my head when I'm rationalizing. I once read that human beings are not "rational" creatures, but "rationalizing" ones-- we can convince ourselves of almost anything that we want to be true, can't we?
Here's the problem: my clever plans to fix myself don't work. Suppressing idols doesn't work.
Here's why: my appetite for sin must be replaced with a craving for Christ.
I can think my way out of something, pretend it isn't there, or work really hard to make it right. And sometimes these methods seem to work-- for a while. But ultimately, nothing has changed. On my own, I am capable of little more than suppression.
Conversely: "what happens to my appetites for sin when I am filled with the fullness of God in Christ?...Indeed, as I perpetually feast on Christ and all of His blessings found in the gospel, I find that my hunger for sin diminishes and the lies of lust simply lose their appeal," (Milton Vincent, A Gospel Primer).
I am often re-learning the necessity of "feasting" on the gospel; of dwelling on the greater beauty that so easily trumps all of my idols. Because of Christ, we can know God, and knowing Him brings us the soul-satisfaction that our sin never will.
"O God, you are my God; earnestly I
seek you,
my soul thirsts for you;
my flesh faints for you,
as in a dry and weary land where
there is no water.
So I have looked upon you in the
sanctuary,
beholding your power and glory.
Because your steadfast love is better than
life,
my lips will praise you.
So I will bless you as long as I live;
in your name I will lift up my hands."
-Psalm 63:1-4 (esv)
I recently came across this phrase and it has been echoing in my head ever since. I have been convicted of the fact that I often tend toward the suppression of idols. When I recognize an idol (usually it is myself, my comfort, my happiness, etc.) in my life, I try to push it aside or away. Sometimes this looks like blatantly ignoring my sin (...maybe if I just forget it's there, then it'll go away, right??). Sometimes it means making an active effort toward improving the thought or behavior (I haven't been nice to my husband...so I'll start being nicer! I'll do something special for him! Surely that will gloss over the fact that I've been a jerk and will make everything better...right?).
These thoughts sound pretty lame as I type them, but they're the things that really go through my head when I'm rationalizing. I once read that human beings are not "rational" creatures, but "rationalizing" ones-- we can convince ourselves of almost anything that we want to be true, can't we?
Here's the problem: my clever plans to fix myself don't work. Suppressing idols doesn't work.
Here's why: my appetite for sin must be replaced with a craving for Christ.
I can think my way out of something, pretend it isn't there, or work really hard to make it right. And sometimes these methods seem to work-- for a while. But ultimately, nothing has changed. On my own, I am capable of little more than suppression.
Conversely: "what happens to my appetites for sin when I am filled with the fullness of God in Christ?...Indeed, as I perpetually feast on Christ and all of His blessings found in the gospel, I find that my hunger for sin diminishes and the lies of lust simply lose their appeal," (Milton Vincent, A Gospel Primer).
I am often re-learning the necessity of "feasting" on the gospel; of dwelling on the greater beauty that so easily trumps all of my idols. Because of Christ, we can know God, and knowing Him brings us the soul-satisfaction that our sin never will.
"O God, you are my God; earnestly I
seek you,
my soul thirsts for you;
my flesh faints for you,
as in a dry and weary land where
there is no water.
So I have looked upon you in the
sanctuary,
beholding your power and glory.
Because your steadfast love is better than
life,
my lips will praise you.
So I will bless you as long as I live;
in your name I will lift up my hands."
-Psalm 63:1-4 (esv)
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
come, let us return to the Lord
It's been too long since I last wrote here. I will not attempt to make any excuses except for the graduating thing, the moving home thing, the getting married thing, the honeymoon thing and the moving to Kentucky thing... other than those things, there is probably no reason for me to not blog, right?!
Anyhow, I currently find myself spending my days applying to jobs, running errands, doing laundry, and cooking for Mark. The downsides to this lifestyle include: being alone for several hours, feeling discouraged with every job description that reminds me I'm inexperienced and unqualified and every email that tells me "thanks but no thanks", and lots and lots of quiet. The introvert I thought I was is now very confused as to why I am not rejoicing at my present circumstances and Mark has told me repeatedly in the past few weeks that I am, in fact, an extrovert. I don't know.
On the other hand, the biggest blessing of this season for me is the fact that I get to have daily unhurried, uninterrupted time in the Word and in prayer. At the beginning of the summer, I had just finished a semester-long study of the gospel of Mark with my roommates. I decided I needed to choose something new to study on my own, thought it would be good to pick something from the Old Testament, and somehow landed on Hosea. Honestly, I'm not really sure what made me think that was what I ought to study. Now that I am several chapters in, however, I see the Lord's hand clearly at work in bringing me to this book.
Frankly, the past few weeks have been pretty difficult for me. In the process of applying for jobs, I have allowed myself to question whether or not I have anything to offer my potential employers (cue downward spiral of negative self-thoughts). I have felt incredibly lonely and wondered how in the world we ended up in Louisville, KY, hours and miles away from all of our family and friends.
And I'm reading Hosea and daily being smacked in the face with the reality that just as Israel pursued idols and trusted in kings, I am pursuing the idols of success and achievement and belonging. I am sincerely believing the lies that if I just got the perfect job offer, or if I just had a few more friends here, this would all go away and I would be fine.
Though I have neglected to trust or hope in the Lord, he has continued to love and pursue me (Hosea 11:2-4). Praise God that his love for us has nothing to do with our own merit or goodness-- that it flows from his redemptive grace to us! And these circumstances that I have allowed to affect the state of my heart are not worth trusting in. Without a heart that is seeking after the Lord, there will always be something getting in the way of the joy that is found in Him.
Working on persistence in prayer and leaning on the grace of my Savior as I fight against my tendency to hope in idols.
Anyhow, I currently find myself spending my days applying to jobs, running errands, doing laundry, and cooking for Mark. The downsides to this lifestyle include: being alone for several hours, feeling discouraged with every job description that reminds me I'm inexperienced and unqualified and every email that tells me "thanks but no thanks", and lots and lots of quiet. The introvert I thought I was is now very confused as to why I am not rejoicing at my present circumstances and Mark has told me repeatedly in the past few weeks that I am, in fact, an extrovert. I don't know.
On the other hand, the biggest blessing of this season for me is the fact that I get to have daily unhurried, uninterrupted time in the Word and in prayer. At the beginning of the summer, I had just finished a semester-long study of the gospel of Mark with my roommates. I decided I needed to choose something new to study on my own, thought it would be good to pick something from the Old Testament, and somehow landed on Hosea. Honestly, I'm not really sure what made me think that was what I ought to study. Now that I am several chapters in, however, I see the Lord's hand clearly at work in bringing me to this book.
Frankly, the past few weeks have been pretty difficult for me. In the process of applying for jobs, I have allowed myself to question whether or not I have anything to offer my potential employers (cue downward spiral of negative self-thoughts). I have felt incredibly lonely and wondered how in the world we ended up in Louisville, KY, hours and miles away from all of our family and friends.
And I'm reading Hosea and daily being smacked in the face with the reality that just as Israel pursued idols and trusted in kings, I am pursuing the idols of success and achievement and belonging. I am sincerely believing the lies that if I just got the perfect job offer, or if I just had a few more friends here, this would all go away and I would be fine.
Though I have neglected to trust or hope in the Lord, he has continued to love and pursue me (Hosea 11:2-4). Praise God that his love for us has nothing to do with our own merit or goodness-- that it flows from his redemptive grace to us! And these circumstances that I have allowed to affect the state of my heart are not worth trusting in. Without a heart that is seeking after the Lord, there will always be something getting in the way of the joy that is found in Him.
Working on persistence in prayer and leaning on the grace of my Savior as I fight against my tendency to hope in idols.
Saturday, May 4, 2013
dust of earth.
"...I have a longing for the world above,
where multitudes sing the great song,
for my soul was never created to love
the dust of earth..."
-Calvary's Anthem, The Valley of Vision
where multitudes sing the great song,
for my soul was never created to love
the dust of earth..."
-Calvary's Anthem, The Valley of Vision
Sunday, April 14, 2013
home.
Today, my parents and little brother filled up a U-Haul and said goodbye to our Kansas City home for good.
I admit that I'm a bit of a wreck about it.
This house has been ours for 15 years. Most of my memories are connected to it, and Liberty by extension.
I do recognize that moving is a very normal life occurrence, as I've had to shuffle my stuff around from place to place in Kirksville for the past three years at school, and I'm about to make the most significant move of my life to Louisville, KY in a few months (What? Crazy.)
But here's the thing: my family's home was not ordinary.
Fifteen years is a lot of life in one place, particularly when you have parents like mine. I don't know many people quite as warm or welcoming as they are. I distinctly remember that even when I was much younger, some of my favorite times at home were nights spent eating a good meal and sitting and talking in the living room with company.
When I got a little older, (and went through a "my parents can't possibly be cool" phase), the Lord often humbled me with the realization that my friends loved spending time in our home because they enjoyed my parents so much. We had so many sweet nights of conversation in that living room with the extra-soft shag carpet (so no one minded plopping down on the floor). I had several friends who met individually with one of my parents to talk or pray, and a couple friends who went through pre-marital counseling with my mom and dad too.
I've learned a lot about loving people from my parents and in that home.
And because of this, I recognize in myself a longing for things to remain as they were, for that home to belong to my parents for a long time.
"These things-- the beauty, the memory of our own past-- are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself, they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of their worshippers. For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited." -C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory
That home was just a place, and God has called my family to another home where he will use them to point more people to himself.
And ultimately, the "thing itself" that Lewis alludes to is our permanent, eternal home with Christ in glory. This is what we ought to long for. Praying that, despite the fact that I will miss my Kansas City home (and soon, my Kirksville home) like crazy, that the Lord would teach me to long for the thing itself.
I admit that I'm a bit of a wreck about it.
This house has been ours for 15 years. Most of my memories are connected to it, and Liberty by extension.
I do recognize that moving is a very normal life occurrence, as I've had to shuffle my stuff around from place to place in Kirksville for the past three years at school, and I'm about to make the most significant move of my life to Louisville, KY in a few months (What? Crazy.)
But here's the thing: my family's home was not ordinary.
Fifteen years is a lot of life in one place, particularly when you have parents like mine. I don't know many people quite as warm or welcoming as they are. I distinctly remember that even when I was much younger, some of my favorite times at home were nights spent eating a good meal and sitting and talking in the living room with company.
When I got a little older, (and went through a "my parents can't possibly be cool" phase), the Lord often humbled me with the realization that my friends loved spending time in our home because they enjoyed my parents so much. We had so many sweet nights of conversation in that living room with the extra-soft shag carpet (so no one minded plopping down on the floor). I had several friends who met individually with one of my parents to talk or pray, and a couple friends who went through pre-marital counseling with my mom and dad too.
I've learned a lot about loving people from my parents and in that home.
And because of this, I recognize in myself a longing for things to remain as they were, for that home to belong to my parents for a long time.
"These things-- the beauty, the memory of our own past-- are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself, they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of their worshippers. For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited." -C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory
That home was just a place, and God has called my family to another home where he will use them to point more people to himself.
And ultimately, the "thing itself" that Lewis alludes to is our permanent, eternal home with Christ in glory. This is what we ought to long for. Praying that, despite the fact that I will miss my Kansas City home (and soon, my Kirksville home) like crazy, that the Lord would teach me to long for the thing itself.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
heaviness and hope.
Lately, I've been experiencing heartache in various forms. I've thought a lot about people I care about who don't know the Lord. I've prayed for them impatiently and with much frustration. I've thought about the things I believe, how they stand in stark contrast to the wisdom of the world. I've watched as people on both ends of the spectrum have flung mean and hateful words at each other, and nothing is ever resolved (nor is understanding ever achieved). I've seen (and personally experienced) the effects of sin on an individual as well as those they have sinned against.
And these things have brought with them a heaviness that I am unequipped to deal with. I get sad and introspective, and I try to pray, but I struggle to believe that anything can ever be fixed; that the Lord can bring redemption to these things.
The message that I heard Easter Sunday brought refreshing to my weary heart.
We studied John chapter 20, verses 19-31. Jesus had recently been crucified, and the disciples were fearful and confused. They were in hiding when they encountered the resurrected Christ for the first time. Those that were present were comforted by Christ's presence, but Thomas, who had not been there, doubted. Then Jesus returns, showing Thomas the marks on his wrists and his side, and Thomas believes.
In this passage, the first words Jesus speaks to the disciples are "Peace be with you." In this I am reminded that no one is able to initiate lasting peace with God-- this is what Jesus did for us when he suffered God's wrath on our behalf. The only true peace we will ever know is in loving relationship with Jesus Christ. And he offers it, freely.
Next, we see that Jesus is patient, he forebears with us though we have deserted and disobeyed him. The disciples had utterly abandoned Christ at the time of his arrest. After his death, they hid themselves away. But Jesus is forgiving and faithful, even when we are faithless (2 Timothy 2:13). When Thomas expresses his doubts to the other disciples, Jesus returns to gently and lovingly show him the truth in the midst of his doubt.
In this way, the resurrection is also personal. Thomas' response to his encounter with Christ is "My Lord and my God!" In Jesus' death and resurrection, he has made it possible for us to know him. Not as a cold and distant being, but a holy, powerful, and personal Savior.
Lastly, the resurrection comes in power. Jesus' return to life is the seal on God's promise to make all things new (Revelation 21).
Jesus brings us peace with God, he is patient with us in our doubts, sins, and failures, he knows and loves us personally, and he comes in power (over sin, death, our circumstances). He alone can draw hardened sinners (like I was) to himself. These promises are teaching me to trust the Lord more in my heartache. The truths of what Christ has done, that he LIVES, and that he is stronger than my fear, bring with them great HOPE. I'm praising God for that today.
In this passage, the first words Jesus speaks to the disciples are "Peace be with you." In this I am reminded that no one is able to initiate lasting peace with God-- this is what Jesus did for us when he suffered God's wrath on our behalf. The only true peace we will ever know is in loving relationship with Jesus Christ. And he offers it, freely.
Next, we see that Jesus is patient, he forebears with us though we have deserted and disobeyed him. The disciples had utterly abandoned Christ at the time of his arrest. After his death, they hid themselves away. But Jesus is forgiving and faithful, even when we are faithless (2 Timothy 2:13). When Thomas expresses his doubts to the other disciples, Jesus returns to gently and lovingly show him the truth in the midst of his doubt.
In this way, the resurrection is also personal. Thomas' response to his encounter with Christ is "My Lord and my God!" In Jesus' death and resurrection, he has made it possible for us to know him. Not as a cold and distant being, but a holy, powerful, and personal Savior.
Lastly, the resurrection comes in power. Jesus' return to life is the seal on God's promise to make all things new (Revelation 21).
Jesus brings us peace with God, he is patient with us in our doubts, sins, and failures, he knows and loves us personally, and he comes in power (over sin, death, our circumstances). He alone can draw hardened sinners (like I was) to himself. These promises are teaching me to trust the Lord more in my heartache. The truths of what Christ has done, that he LIVES, and that he is stronger than my fear, bring with them great HOPE. I'm praising God for that today.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
things needful.
"I need spiritual comforts that are gentle, mild, refreshing,
that will melt me into conscious lowliness before thee,
that will make me feel and rest in thee as my All."
-puritan prayer, The Valley of Vision
It's been a long time since my last post. And I don't like it, because I've found that writing is one of the most helpful ways I can identify the things that have been going on in my mind and heart. So I'm back, finally, with plenty of thoughts :) One of those thoughts, recently, comes from Mark 10. My roommates and I have been studying Mark for quite a while now, and I've been so in awe of Jesus week after week.
I'd read these passages before, but recognized something new in this reading. In verses 13-16, children are brought to Jesus, but the crowd surrounding him (including the disciples) are shooing children away, seeing them as an annoyance. When Jesus sees this, he is indignant, telling them to let the children come to him and recognizing these little ones' faith as something special.
In verses 46-52 we see a blind man cry out to Jesus for healing. Once again, the crowd sees this man as an impertinence. Normally, he would have been ignored; looked over. However, Christ sees the man and brings him in. He knows what the man needs, but gives him the opportunity to ask in faith. Then he responds, "Go your way, your faith has made you well" (52). The man immediately joins Jesus as one of his followers.
Jesus brings these marginalized people in, validates their worth, brings them healing, shows them kindness, and recognizes their faith. He does it because he loves them.
But what was so striking to me this time was that I realized Jesus' secondary intent-- he also loves those who were following him already and wants them to see that he desires genuine faith and a true awareness of how much they need him. It's funny how many times in this study I've come across instances of unbelief in the disciples. They are almost constantly being surprised by what Jesus says and what he is capable of doing. (It's so funny because if they believe that he is the Son of God, nothing should surprise them. Don't they know he's sovereign and all-powerful and holy, etc. etc...?)
And I find it really comical until I recognize that I am just like them.
I am frequently thinking small thoughts of my Savior and placing pressure on myself to be independent and figure things out on my own. I was hit hard with the reality that as of late it has been my tendency to not really believe that I need Him.
I'm convicted that this needs to change. My heart needs to dwell in constant dependence on the Lord. And it's okay for me to be meek and lowly, because that's exactly what I am. Praying that I will feel and know my need of Christ more.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
gifts and glory.
I am a total Christmas fanatic. Of course, I believe very strongly in the importance of saving my celebration until after Thanksgiving has come, but as soon as it passes, I am all in. I attempt to create as much Christmas whimsy in my life as possible, with snowflakes hanging from my ceiling, trips to see twinkling lights all over town, cheerful Christmas tunes on repeat, and as many Christmas cookie parties as I can handle.
I love taking a break from classes, spending time with my family, and seeing old friends. I love gift giving and receiving. I love Christmas eve candlelit services. I love good food and good naps on Christmas day. I love it all.
But I've been reminded through faithful preaching of the Word this season that there's something a little somber and deeply significant about this time, too. The truth I've been glossing over a bit: that Christmas means first remembering that you and I have a deep-seated need for Christ. That he came because God knew we'd be eternally hopeless and helpless without him and loved us enough to make a way to himself. That ultimately, this Savior who came into the world also died for the sins of the world. My sin and yours.
God is good to have given us the gift of his Son. And I ought to let my desperate need for Christ shake me a little bit more. Humility and true worship ought to arise from the recognition that without Jesus, I'd be lost.
These truths are simple, and I think that's why it's easy for us to forget, misplace, or ignore. But there is nothing more worthy of celebration, no one more worthy of our love, obedience and attention, no gift more glorious or life-giving.
I am prone to distraction, celebrating lesser goods and gifts, but Christ is on my mind tonight. My great need for him, his sufficiency to live blamelessly and cover my sin with his death, the riches of his love, the depths of his grace.
"And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth... For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace."
(John 1:14,16)
I love taking a break from classes, spending time with my family, and seeing old friends. I love gift giving and receiving. I love Christmas eve candlelit services. I love good food and good naps on Christmas day. I love it all.
But I've been reminded through faithful preaching of the Word this season that there's something a little somber and deeply significant about this time, too. The truth I've been glossing over a bit: that Christmas means first remembering that you and I have a deep-seated need for Christ. That he came because God knew we'd be eternally hopeless and helpless without him and loved us enough to make a way to himself. That ultimately, this Savior who came into the world also died for the sins of the world. My sin and yours.
God is good to have given us the gift of his Son. And I ought to let my desperate need for Christ shake me a little bit more. Humility and true worship ought to arise from the recognition that without Jesus, I'd be lost.
These truths are simple, and I think that's why it's easy for us to forget, misplace, or ignore. But there is nothing more worthy of celebration, no one more worthy of our love, obedience and attention, no gift more glorious or life-giving.
I am prone to distraction, celebrating lesser goods and gifts, but Christ is on my mind tonight. My great need for him, his sufficiency to live blamelessly and cover my sin with his death, the riches of his love, the depths of his grace.
"And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth... For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace."
(John 1:14,16)
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
What Wondrous Love Is This?
Recently, during a drive between Kirksville and Columbia after spending a day with my family, I found myself alone on the road for the first time in quite a while. The sky was dark and the car was quiet. I stuck in a c.d., one of many random car mixes in my collection. "What Wondrous Love Is This?" started to play, and I found myself particularly drawn to the song.
It's been a favorite of mine and Mark's ever since he introduced it to me two summers ago. The lyrics are rich and powerful and I let them wash over me with new meaning that night.
What wondrous love is this, O my soul! What wondrous love is this.
What wondrous love is this, O my soul! What wondrous love is this.
What wondrous love is this that caused the Lord of bliss
To bear the dreadful curse for my soul,
To bear the dreadful curse.
When I was sinking down, sinking down, when I was sinking down.
When I was sinking down, sinking down, when I was sinking down.
When I was sinking down beneath God's righteous frown,
Christ laid aside his crown for my soul
Christ laid aside his crown for my soul.
To God and to the Lamb, I will sing, to God and to the Lamb.
To God and to the Lamb, I will sing, to God and to the Lamb.
To God and to the Lamb who is the great I am,
While millions join the theme, I will sing
While millions join the theme.
And when from death I'm free, I'll sing on, and when from death I'm free.
And when from death I'm free, I'll sing on, and when from death I'm free.
And when from death I'm free, I'll sing and grateful be,
While millions join the theme, I will sing,
While millions join the theme.
What wondrous love is this, O my soul! What wondrous love is this.
What wondrous love is this, O my soul! What wondrous love is this.
What wondrous love is this that caused the Lord of bliss
To bear the dreadful curse for my soul,
To bear the dreadful curse.
When I was sinking down, sinking down, when I was sinking down.
When I was sinking down, sinking down, when I was sinking down.
When I was sinking down beneath God's righteous frown,
Christ laid aside his crown for my soul
Christ laid aside his crown for my soul.
To God and to the Lamb, I will sing, to God and to the Lamb.
To God and to the Lamb, I will sing, to God and to the Lamb.
To God and to the Lamb who is the great I am,
While millions join the theme, I will sing
While millions join the theme.
And when from death I'm free, I'll sing on, and when from death I'm free.
And when from death I'm free, I'll sing on, and when from death I'm free.
And when from death I'm free, I'll sing and grateful be,
While millions join the theme, I will sing,
While millions join the theme.
I was reminded then just how wonderful and astounding God's love for us is. The fact that He was not content to leave us in the sin and death we deserve, but instead was compelled by love to bear our curse and take our shame is difficult for me to comprehend. He restored us to himself simply because he loves us.
For the past year and a half, I have been learning quite a bit about love. The time I've spent dating (and more recently, engaged) to Mark has taught me so much about what it means to humble myself and set aside my own good or gain for the good of another. Though I have a very long way to go, I continue to grow in an understanding of what it means to model a relationship that is moving toward marriage after Christ's love for the church.
John Piper says that "the wonder of marriage is woven into the wonder of the gospel of the cross of Christ." This relationship between a man and a woman is a shadow of Christ's covenant-keeping love for the church, his bride. He is committed to faithfulness and to the continual giving of grace to her. He laid down his life for her.
It is incredible and painful and beautiful to be beginning this process with Mark. We are both often immature or prideful or selfish. Growing and stretching is hard. But it is good to be reminded that the covenant-keeping love of Christ is enough; that as we continue to be sanctified and learn to better love one another, it is because He loved us first.
"Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children. And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God... Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife even as Christ is the head of the church, his body, and is himself its Savior. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit in everything to their husbands. Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her."
-Ephesians 5:1-2, 22-25
For the past year and a half, I have been learning quite a bit about love. The time I've spent dating (and more recently, engaged) to Mark has taught me so much about what it means to humble myself and set aside my own good or gain for the good of another. Though I have a very long way to go, I continue to grow in an understanding of what it means to model a relationship that is moving toward marriage after Christ's love for the church.
John Piper says that "the wonder of marriage is woven into the wonder of the gospel of the cross of Christ." This relationship between a man and a woman is a shadow of Christ's covenant-keeping love for the church, his bride. He is committed to faithfulness and to the continual giving of grace to her. He laid down his life for her.
It is incredible and painful and beautiful to be beginning this process with Mark. We are both often immature or prideful or selfish. Growing and stretching is hard. But it is good to be reminded that the covenant-keeping love of Christ is enough; that as we continue to be sanctified and learn to better love one another, it is because He loved us first.
"Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children. And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God... Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife even as Christ is the head of the church, his body, and is himself its Savior. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit in everything to their husbands. Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her."
-Ephesians 5:1-2, 22-25
Monday, September 24, 2012
uncomfortable grace.
Recently the future has been on my mind quite a bit. At this point there are several things up in the air: job, school, etc. And every time my mind goes there, I've allowed it to become a really overwhelming, fear-inducing thing. I have not been offering it up to the Lord or really dealing with it in any kind of healthy way, just churning and worrying and letting that spiral out of control.
This weekend I heard a sermon preached on Mark 6:45-52. (http://www.redeemerkansascity.org/sermons/the-difference-between-amazement-and-faith/)
Essentially, Jesus has told the disciples to get in a boat and head toward Bethsaida while he stays behind to pray. The disciples start making their way across the water and struggle against the wind, making little headway.
The disciples are in this mess because of their obedience to Christ. He takes them where they haven't intended to go in order to produce in them what they cannot achieve on their own-- grace. And in their case this isn't the grace of relief, but the uncomfortable grace of refinement.
As the passage continues, we see the incredible truth that Christ is for them. He meets them on the water and is present with them in their difficulty. And yet, even in the midst of his presence, the disciples are utterly astounded-- they can't believe that Jesus had come to them walking on water; can't believe that he had the power to make the wind cease. Their thoughts of Him were completely and utterly too small. They still didn't understand fully who he was or what that meant. Instead their hearts were hardened and they missed an opportunity to experience his refining grace.
All believers in Jesus Christ have the incredible and uncomfortable grace of God that takes us where we didn't intend to go, walks with us in the midst of difficulty, and refines and produces sanctification in us. I'm learning that I have become satisfied with the work He has done in me so far; that I am content to stay where I am because it's comfortable here. But the Lord refuses to let me go without confronting these areas of my life where he is taking me somewhere new and scary for my good in order that I might trust Him more. In order that I might cast aside small thoughts of Him. That I might see that His refining work in me brings Him much glory, and I would give Him space to do so.
He is worthy of our trust, our hope, our worship, our very lives.
This weekend I heard a sermon preached on Mark 6:45-52. (http://www.redeemerkansascity.org/sermons/the-difference-between-amazement-and-faith/)
Essentially, Jesus has told the disciples to get in a boat and head toward Bethsaida while he stays behind to pray. The disciples start making their way across the water and struggle against the wind, making little headway.
The disciples are in this mess because of their obedience to Christ. He takes them where they haven't intended to go in order to produce in them what they cannot achieve on their own-- grace. And in their case this isn't the grace of relief, but the uncomfortable grace of refinement.
As the passage continues, we see the incredible truth that Christ is for them. He meets them on the water and is present with them in their difficulty. And yet, even in the midst of his presence, the disciples are utterly astounded-- they can't believe that Jesus had come to them walking on water; can't believe that he had the power to make the wind cease. Their thoughts of Him were completely and utterly too small. They still didn't understand fully who he was or what that meant. Instead their hearts were hardened and they missed an opportunity to experience his refining grace.
All believers in Jesus Christ have the incredible and uncomfortable grace of God that takes us where we didn't intend to go, walks with us in the midst of difficulty, and refines and produces sanctification in us. I'm learning that I have become satisfied with the work He has done in me so far; that I am content to stay where I am because it's comfortable here. But the Lord refuses to let me go without confronting these areas of my life where he is taking me somewhere new and scary for my good in order that I might trust Him more. In order that I might cast aside small thoughts of Him. That I might see that His refining work in me brings Him much glory, and I would give Him space to do so.
He is worthy of our trust, our hope, our worship, our very lives.
Monday, September 17, 2012
grace and worship.
My roommates and I started reading through the book of Mark this semester. This week was chapter 2, and I found myself really encouraged by what I found there.
First, (vs. 18-22) the Pharisees are bothered by the fact that Jesus and his disciples do not fast. To their question Jesus is quick to reply that the disciples are with the bridegroom now, experiencing and rejoicing in the presence of God as they spend time with Jesus, and therefore have no need for fasting until he is gone.
Next, (vs. 23-28) the disciples are seen plucking heads of grain in the grain fields on the Sabbath. Again, the Pharisees cannot understand why it would be okay for these men to violate the Sabbath merely because they are hungry. And again, Jesus points them to the truth-- "the Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath."
In each of these instances I see really beautiful truths. The Pharisees have come to trust in the Law, using it as the lens by which they see everything. However, in doing so they have completely lost sight of the purpose of both fasting and the Sabbath. According to Christ, fasting is for seeking the presence of God; for focusing one's full heart and attention on Him. But they have turned it into a badge of honor, automatically judging those who don't participate. And not only that, but they are missing out on the personal and tangible presence of Jesus Christ right in front of them. Similarly, the Sabbath is meant to be God's gift to man; a time of spiritual and physical refreshment. Therefore, it ought not confine every action a man takes on that day, but rather to be blessed by quiet, restful time with the Lord.
Ultimately, Christ intends to show these religious people that he is Lord over all, even the Law. And with him comes something completely new, something that cannot be combined with the old (vs. 21-22). We cannot receive full atonement in the death of Christ and still believe that there is some level of righteousness we can achieve by our own efforts. Therefore we see Jesus pointing to the grace that exists in him in each situation, setting us free to worship him with transformed hearts swelling with gratitude for what he has done.
When we get caught up in the "rules and duties", we lose out on the entire heart behind what God asks of us. The truth is, he has made us for worship and delight in Him. The things he calls us to are for our greatest good and His own glory. And if we know Him, sin has no power over us. So why do we allow just about anything (even "religious" things) to get in the way of humbly and passionately seeking the Lord in His Word and in prayer?
My prayer is that I would continue to be transformed by God in such a way that my heart would long for more of Him and the result would be a life of worship.
First, (vs. 18-22) the Pharisees are bothered by the fact that Jesus and his disciples do not fast. To their question Jesus is quick to reply that the disciples are with the bridegroom now, experiencing and rejoicing in the presence of God as they spend time with Jesus, and therefore have no need for fasting until he is gone.
Next, (vs. 23-28) the disciples are seen plucking heads of grain in the grain fields on the Sabbath. Again, the Pharisees cannot understand why it would be okay for these men to violate the Sabbath merely because they are hungry. And again, Jesus points them to the truth-- "the Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath."
In each of these instances I see really beautiful truths. The Pharisees have come to trust in the Law, using it as the lens by which they see everything. However, in doing so they have completely lost sight of the purpose of both fasting and the Sabbath. According to Christ, fasting is for seeking the presence of God; for focusing one's full heart and attention on Him. But they have turned it into a badge of honor, automatically judging those who don't participate. And not only that, but they are missing out on the personal and tangible presence of Jesus Christ right in front of them. Similarly, the Sabbath is meant to be God's gift to man; a time of spiritual and physical refreshment. Therefore, it ought not confine every action a man takes on that day, but rather to be blessed by quiet, restful time with the Lord.
Ultimately, Christ intends to show these religious people that he is Lord over all, even the Law. And with him comes something completely new, something that cannot be combined with the old (vs. 21-22). We cannot receive full atonement in the death of Christ and still believe that there is some level of righteousness we can achieve by our own efforts. Therefore we see Jesus pointing to the grace that exists in him in each situation, setting us free to worship him with transformed hearts swelling with gratitude for what he has done.
When we get caught up in the "rules and duties", we lose out on the entire heart behind what God asks of us. The truth is, he has made us for worship and delight in Him. The things he calls us to are for our greatest good and His own glory. And if we know Him, sin has no power over us. So why do we allow just about anything (even "religious" things) to get in the way of humbly and passionately seeking the Lord in His Word and in prayer?
My prayer is that I would continue to be transformed by God in such a way that my heart would long for more of Him and the result would be a life of worship.
Friday, September 14, 2012
Alas and Did My Savior Bleed.
Alas! and did my Savior bleed
And did my Sovereign die.
Would He devote that sacred head
For sinners such as I?
His body slain; nailed to the cross
Bathed in his own blood
There received the wrath of God
His soul in anguish stood.
It was for crimes that I had done
That kept him on the tree.
Amazing mercy, matchless grace
And love beyond degree.
When Christ, our own creator died
And took upon our sin
Not even in that darkest hour
Could glory be shut in
My thoughts fixed on His sacrifice –
The cross that draws me near
Dissolve my heart in thankfulness
And melt my eyes to tears.
Alas! and did my Savior bleed
And did my Sovereign die.
Would He devote that sacred head
For sinners such as I?
Drops of grief cannot repay
The love I owe to you
Lord, I give myself away
Its all that can do.
-hymn by Isaac Watts
