Grace & Snow

It's snowing again here. I love the snow. There is something peaceful and redeeming about the snow. It falls quiet and graceful yet it is profound. Flakes pile high; blanket everything with clean white. Graceful they fall, these flakes, cascading, spiraling, curlicue-ing down from the sky.

It is easy for me to find such beauty in such grace and uninterrupted purpose. Perhaps it explains my love for ballet and other kinds of dance and for those who glide through life and make each action look smooth, tranquil, purposeful.

If I had my pick of characteristics, grace would be the one I would choose for myself. On my own, I am messy. I trip, I spill, I jerk and even fall down. Self-deprecation aside, seriously, I am not graceful. There was the time I tripped up stairs and fell, embedding my Eiffel Tower keychain into my hand. Or one of the countless times I was, ya know, walking and turned my ankle. To number the shirts I've retired due to spills, spatters, and drips would be to number the stars…well, nearly number them, anyway.

I yearn for a smooth, tranquil, purposeful life. I want to be one of those people that makes everything look effortless. And I'm just not.

Snowflakes fall grace-filled but it is their landing that fulfills their ultimate purpose. When they land together, they create thick, powdery heaps, good for snowmen and snow ice cream. When they land on salted walks, they quickly dissipate, melting back into the water that formed their crystal bodies. Of course a snowflake doesn't choose where it lands. It is guided fully by the Sender.

Unlike a snowflake, we choose where we land; guided by the self-same Sender.

To live purposeful, banding together with others who live purposeful, creates something that can be used. To to live purposeful, but let purpose be "melted" by circumstance diminishes the potency of the purpose. And there is always a need to restart.

If I clearly have a choice, why would I choose to trade my purpose for the futility of feeling the circumstance? I struggle with temper and rage. And truly Grace-filled people don't rage--they don't need to. Being rage-filled rather than Spirit-filled violates my purpose; bars me from it.

I had a fight with my husband. And though I had a point that mattered and legitimately hurt feelings, there was no grace about my response. Slamming palms against table tops is never a Grace-filled reply. And if I am not Grace-filled how can I, in turn, offer Grace? In that moment, I was filled with hot-blooded rage--Oh, Father, check my rage!

There is nothing effortless about living life. Sometimes it is nothing but effort. And the kind of grace that has become my idol isn't the kind of grace after which I should be following hard. That kind of grace is a shadow and a pretense. The kind of grace that transforms has already been given me. Why am I not following hard after it? Is it because the idol-grace is one that I make? Am I choosing self-made over the ultimate Grace--that which I cannot make?

Jesus, your Grace is grace that overflows in its abundance. It is perfect and whole and filling and never-ending and all the grace I'll ever need is YOUR Grace. And it is Your Grace that can overcome my rage.

Remind me:

"Those who live according to the flesh have their minds set on what the flesh desires; but those who live in accordance with the Spirit have their minds set on what the Spirit desires. The mind governed by the flesh is death, but the mind governed by the Spirit is life and peace." 

The Message is never more successfully shared than when I share it with my life. The me I practice privately is the me that will emerge most commonly in public. And if I don't let the Spirit govern my mind and bring life and peace in private, I cannot meaningfully share that Message with others in public.

So let me be Grace-filled. Let me offer Your Grace, knowing that I am in as desperate need as those with whom I share it.

The flakes fall soft from the sky and I watch them, recollect Your Grace and breath Peace.

Finishing January Thanks:

22--Wrinkled prune-fingers from swimming; smoothed out bedspread over a neatly made bed; clothes folded and put away
23--In Christ, I find unconditional love; never-ending forgiveness; abundant grace

24--New blue dishes on my wish list; clear blue sky today; warm blue sweater

25--A grace borrowed--inspiration to write from other Christ-sisters; A grace found--I once was lost but now am found; a grace inherited--a rich spiritual legacy

26--Peace from God before dawn when dreams frighten me awake; deep and glorious sunshine at noon; a warm and cozy home after dark

27--A mixer that mixes cakes and breads and warm yummies; an oven that bakes them; a fridge & pantry stocked with food.

28--Friends who forgive; friends who make time; friends who pray

29--A song heard about waiting; a soft word breathed to me of lifelong love; sunlight glittering the snow 

30--An old Bible study lesson with new meaning; Exercise with new vigor & purpose; the world through God's eyes when there is Jesus within

31--Reminder of a day off of school on a paper; The love and joy in the person of my friend; laughs in a picture of my child and her friends

Life is Hard; God is Good

Last week was grim. Circumstances I found myself in dealt me a heavy blow; I felt immobilized and sad. Everything I had to do felt like weight pushing my feet into thick, gluey mud. And so I muddled through what couldn't be avoided and I did a lot of reading.

I read in Isaiah: 

"I am the Lord, and there is no other; apart from me there is no God. I will strengthen you, though you have not acknowledged me, so that from the rising of the sun to the place of its setting people may know there is none besides me. I am the Lord, and there is no other. I form the light and create darkness, I bring prosperity and create disaster; I, the Lord, do all these things." (45:5-7)

And concerning this verse, I read, 

"God ordains whatsoever comes to pass--in an ultimate sense, all things…God says essentially, 'Look no further, the buck stops here.'…So we see two crucial truths here: first, God is the cause of all things; but second, and just as important, God is the final and only ultimate hope we have in all circumstances…"[1]

And also, 

"…When God allows something, he is acting deliberately--he is decreeing that event. God doesn't just watch bad things happen. What is accidental from our perspective was specifically allowed by God. He who holds all things together must sustain the very molecules of the bullet as it flies toward it's mark."[2]

I read in Deuteronomy: 

"See now that I myself am he! There is no god besides me. I put to death and I bring to life, I have wounded and I will heal, and no one can deliver out of my hand." (32:39)

And concerning it:

"It is abhorrent for some that the Judeo-Christian God of the Scriptures might be the one who wounds and in his sovereignty 'afflicts' some with disabilities. However, if there is hardness on one side, there is profound comfort in the other.  He also proclaims himself the one who heals. It would be one thing if he only afflicted. Such a horrific god would certainly engender fear and submission, but not love and devotion. It would be equally horrific if he were a god who only healed, because that would mean he has no control over the afflictions that assail us."[3]

And this excerpt from a favorite blog:

"...But the slave may declare, ‘I love my master, my wife, and my children. I don’t want to go free.’ If he does this, his master must present him before God. Then his master must take him to the door or doorpost and publicly pierce his ear with an awl. After that, the slave will serve his master for life. [Ex. 21:5-6]

The edges of my ear, bore through and blatant.

This murmuring with David:

“You do not want sacrifices and offerings.

    But you have made a hole in my ear

    to show that my body and life are Yours.” Ps. 40:6-8

I had been sitting in a Bible Study when my ear had tore straight through and here I was with a right opened ear…Sometimes what you think is an open wound needing to heal--is God opening you up like an ear to hear Him and obey...Stand before that door and be bore through — because this is the only way through...What do I need more than His love and what do I want more than His will and when I am my own master, don’t I have a fool for a master?"

I read and I thought and I prayed for God to connect the dots.  These are hard truths and rather than grapple with them, I began to wrap myself in them. I opened my heart to the inevitability I was reading that God decreed and authored these and other difficult events in my life. I was surprised to find that this brought me not the anger and frustration I'd expected but a sense of understanding and of comfort.

Even while I still hurt, I set in motion the closing of my fingers and wrapping of my heart around the truth that my grim week was sanctioned for a purpose that I couldn't see; may never see. It served a purpose--one that I can believe that He allowed to bring good and glory to Himself and is therefore better than I could ever hope for. And wasn't this part and parcel of my belonging to Christ? If I am to be marked His bondslave, wasn't this part of the process? All of this, I felt, should have weighed me down but yet I discovered peace and not discord in my heart; a lessened sense of drowning in my heartache.

Speaking of aching: when we ache, we want it to stop. When we've ached, we never want to feel it again. In fact, a large portion of our energy is spent trying to build a impenetrable force that ensures that we will never ache again. What was it Shakespeare wrote? "Lord, what fools these mortals be!"  

Aching is never without purpose; practically or spiritually. And when we look hard at only the hurting and not at the learning, we miss it. Easy words, though. But, if the reasons behind my hurting have God-purpose that I can abide in without seeing, then letting go of my lost expectations, desires, dreams becomes the next logical step, albeit an arduous one.

I'm far from having this all figured out. Could I think or say the same if events were worse? If violence and trauma marred the loss I felt? If the loss had been complete? Some stand in that place right now and these words seem garish and ugly; far from comfort and peace. 

At the end of the day, I stake my heart on this because it is all I have: God is good. His ultimate purposes (though I cannot comprehend them) are for good. Giving and taking does not change His goodness, no matter how much I might think it does.  

Learning, always learning. 

For now, though, it is a start to say and to begin to believe: 

"This too is from God's hand. I can go nowhere else."[4]

For these and so much more, I give thanks:
1--My daughter singing along with silly songs; hearing my husband say my name; a new worship song

2--Crisp air outside; warm air and cozy smells inside; fresh baked bread on a plate

3--Grace said over me by a mentor; grace said over me by a teacher; grace offered up by my daughter

4--An old appliance still works like new; a new stone loaf pan; new blue shoes

5--Reading about God in wool and honey and wine and disability; making a new scarf; seeing God's work in my life

6--Two new pens from my lover in my bag; two round wheels of brie in my fridge; amplified love of my Savior in my heart

7--Grace from my husband during my week of grim; grace from my friends when I feel lonely on Friday nights; abundant grace from my Savior each and every day

8--Sunset in a dusky sky; my reflection in the mirror when I'm having a good hair day; shadow of my man sitting next to me

9--Held my daughter's hand while we walked; passed by trees sparkling with ice; sat with Jesus-sisters in Bible study

10--Lemon sour to flavor my tea; chocolate pie eaten in fellowship; bowl of soup at just the right temperature

11--Each new rise of the sun is mercy; yellow dreams a friend shares is mercy; a sunrise on the morning of His rise is mercy

12--The starry skies above, the waiting spring below, my Savior and my God beside

13--I am grateful for being made to understand compassion; for beginning to learn patience; for being who God made me to be

14--Grace for my mistakes; grace in the hard truths; grace in my messed-upness

15--New jacket worn; outgrown clothes given away; lunch shared with a friend

16--Witnessed God's blessing of new life given; witnessed friends' work toward a goal completed; witnessed much progress made by my girl in communicating

17--My husband brings me laughter; hard things and thanks bring me prayer; waiting on God brings me quiet

18--Deuteronomy 32:39; Ruth 1:20-21; Isaiah 45:5-7

19--My daughter; my husband; but for the love of God, my salvation

20--The joy in serving; the strength in godly relationships; the beauty of marriage

21--Fluffy flakes float from the sky; the cleaning power of water; the memory of sweet communion

---

[1] Michael S. Beates, Disability and the Gospel (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2012), 37.

[2] Joni Eareckson Tada and Dave Draveky, eds., The Encouragement Bible (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2001), 964

[3] Michael S. Beates, Disability and the Gospel (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2012), 32.

[4] Michael S. Beates, Disability and the Gospel (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2012), 45.

Les Mis

The college I attended offered a 4-week session during each January called J-term. For many, it was simply an extra 4 weeks of winter vacation to relax and prepare for the spring semester. I took classes only one January but wished each and every year I was a student there that I could've taken the course that involved a 2-week trip to London.  The expense was always greater than I could afford but I had friends who went and allowed me to experience the trip vicariously through them; they brought me pictures and souvenirs; shared tales of their adventures and even made a couple of phone calls to tell me that they wished I were there, etc.

There was always one facet of that trip that I sorely wished to experience that couldn't be captured in pictures or souvenirs or phone calls: seeing performed, live theatre, main-stage popular musicals and the amazing artistic craft of the professional stage. Les Miserables was running in London, then, probably every year my friends went. I remember how wonderful the descriptions of the artistry of that musical: the costumes, the music, the set, the performances--all done professionally and as perfectly as theatre can get. Young men who prided themselves on being unemotional and unaffected by such things as theatre would tell tales of sitting in a dark auditorium, openly weeping during the brilliant execution of Les Mis. "It was moving," they'd say, "so very good!"

Time passed, I finished college and moved on with my life. There was never regret, per se, that I didn't get to go to London on one of those trips but more, a hope that someday I would get to go--a longing that I tucked away and still keep.

This December just past, the newest cinematic version of Les Miserables was released.  There have been others and I've never really had an interest in watching any of them. Somehow, there just seemed a lackluster quality to what I knew to be the spectacular onstage version. But this new one...this one was to be different. It was filmed in such a way that all the actors sang the dialogue in real time as the camera's rolled. And all the A-list actors who participated in the film actually sang. There was to be, built into the film, a theatricality that gave the movie that magical, live, onstage feel.

And today, I got to experience it and it was like my longed-for trip to London was fully realized. I may be a hopeless romantic and occasionally see things ideally rather than realistically, sometimes to the detriment of a proper perspective, but I allowed myself this joy. Like London in January, it was cold this morning--8 degrees--with snow still blanketing the ground. And we were bundled up in coats and scarves and hats and it was a special event...special because my husband woke up at 7 am to go with me to drop our Kiddo off at school and then treat me to this visual spectacle.

And as I sat in the dark and wept at all the right parts, I also found myself weeping for a different reason at other, less obvious parts. And because the themes of mercy and compassion and love and grace and justice were so obvious, I couldn't help but see God right there in the middle of Les Mis.  And I wept when Jean val Jean suddenly grasped that he'd been offered grace for the first time in his life and how it changed him and opened his heart to accept the grace that God offers. And I wept when mercy did not soften a heart made hard by years of mercilessness and Javert saw the only way out was at the bottom of a bridge. And I wept when desperation drove Fantine to sacrifice her pride and her honor to save her child and how, again, compassion and grace, while it didn't save her life, saved her child's and allowed her a peaceful death.

It dawned on me, as I watched, that I am--we are--all of these characters! I have been offered an undeserved grace and mercy; I've been given compassion of which I am unworthy.  This shone out glaring watching Jean val Jean, for the love of his child, carry her fiancé through deep, dark, stinking sewers of refuse; of excrement, to bring him to safety. And to fathom that this is what Jesus did for me caused me to weep all the more.

I am infected and impure with sin. All my "righteous acts" are like filthy rags. And He left his righteous, unimaginably pure throne to wade through my muck--not wade, but swim, swallow, saturate Himself--so that I could be made clean. Overwhelming. Humbling.

Experiencing God has been on my mind and heart lately. I am preparing for spring Bible study and I find it in my preparation. I am beginning a journey that may lead to teaching others and asking this question of myself is the first necessity on that journey to impacting others--have I, am I, will I continue to experience God? To experience heart-change that He's begun? Through His Word? Through open and continuous conversation with Him? Through searching for Him in my day-to-day? Through thanking Him for every blessing He's put in my life?

Today, the answer is yes. YES. Oh, Father God, YES! I experienced You this morning! You gave me such a blessing--a multi-faceted blessing: a wonderful spouse who made a sacrifice to allow me to enjoy what I enjoy, a movie that was made and through it I tasted a morsel of what I missed out on in college, and the lessons that You teach me over and over and over...the ones that I cling to because they are what matters in this life! The heart of the law is mercy--You, Father are mercy! It is by grace I am saved--not my filthy rag-works! It is a gift! You have compassion on whom you have compassion--and You have compassion on me! You are a God of justice! This day, Jesus, I give you my thanks. I have so much to be thankful for!

And so it is with heart full of happiness that I will continue on my day, looking for God in my every step. Finding Him there, too, because He's in my heart. Thank you Jesus for Grace. For Mercy. For Compassion. And for a day like today when they blaze in my heart and give me a passion for You!

Unearthed Thanks

Sometimes I just can't find myself. And sometimes, I feel eaten alive by insecurity. And my nerves are raw edges that dig at me and make the very air around me seem ragged and harsh. Doubt and paranoia are wicked foes and I just want to sit in the dark and cry. And I feel like a wrinkled, bitter, frigid shrew; unlovely and striving against hate and rage and uncertainty. 

Praying gets interrupted by battles with my thoughts. I want to feel secure again so much. These feelings, the lingering events-past, are a distraction and an attack. And isn't it always the way that when I feel like I'm making progress, something shifts and suddenly I'm back at the beginning?

I must thank…I must thank. Gratitude for my life and my circumstances, regardless of how hard and how painful, is where I will ultimately find chara, joy. It is where I will remember what has been done that I might have life and have it more abundantly. And these last few weeks have been hard because the thanking got buried under the rush of the daily grind.

The thanking is a reminder of the blessing. It propels me to share; to focus on others. And then I am fortified for the battle. The thanking becomes praying and then praying flows fluidly. 

Jesus, I offer unearthed thanks:

Nov. 1--3 Gifts Eaten:  Lunch at Friday's with the Hubbs; Delicious Zingers; Creamy Butternut Squash Soup

Nov. 2--3 Gifts Worn: Warm sweaters, Cozy scarves, Toasty hats

Nov. 3--3 Gifts That Start with "N":  Nummy candies, Never-ending love from the Father; New Life because of Jesus!

Nov. 4--A Gift Gathered, Given, Good: Leaves gathered everyday by Kiddo as she leaves school; A new hoodie given by a dear friend; God who is so very good!

Nov. 5--3 Gifts Acorn-Small: The tiny pills that have made such a difference in Kiddo's learning & experiencing; The tiny pills that help me feel better while sick; Faith the size of a mustard seed that can be powerful enough to move mountains

Nov. 6--3 Gifts Government:  The freedom & privilege to vote; A society that is not torn apart by war; A country that has been shaped and formed to provide freedoms and rights that are found very few other places on this planet.

Nov. 7--3 Gifts From Your Window: The view of Fall happening all around me; 

Nov. 8--A Gift Sweet, Salty, Sipped: Halloween Candy! Chips & Salsa; Mug of Homemade Butter Beer to soothe the sore throat

Nov. 9--3 Gifts Harvest:  Harvest of friends we've found here; the Harvest happening on farms all over our region--food provision from the Provider! Harvest of blessings that He provides daily!

Nov. 10--3 Gifts Found in Bible Reading:  For of His fullness, we have all received grace upon grace; Then a shoot will spring from the stem of Jesse, and a branch from his roots will bear fruit; All right then, the Lord himself will give you the sign. Look! The virgin will conceive a child! She will give birth to a son and will call him Immanuel (which means ‘God is with us’).

Nov. 11--3 Gifts of Remembrance: My Grandpa, My Sister, My Savior

Nov. 12--3 Gifts at Noon: Lunch to Eat, Sun--high in the sky, Time to stop and breathe

Nov. 13--3 Gifts Behind a Door: Happy faces of a family waiting our arrival; Coming home again; A fridge with plenty inside it

Nov. 14--3 Gifts Silent: Silent before the Word--Bonhoeffer's Words; Silent Night & Holy Night; When snow falls

Nov. 15--3 Gifts Golden: Golden lights on Christmas trees; Golden trees; Golden ornaments

Nov. 16--3 Gifts Hard Eucharisteo: Battling my thoughts; honoring regardless; sick kitty

Nov. 17--3 Gifts of Laughter: Funny memes; Silly with my sister; SNL

Nov. 18--A Gift Made, Shared, Passed On: Made bread from scratch; Shared a meal with a dear friend; Passed on a sentiment from Bonhoeffer

Nov. 19--3 Gifts Autumn: Trees; Sweaters; Crisp Air

Nov. 20--3 Gifts of Traditions: Christmas Tree up the day after Thanksgiving; Considering new ones; Post-Thanksgiving trip to VA & Williamsburg at Christmas

Nov. 21--3 Gifts Family: Trip to VA to see family; Willingness of family to chip in for joint gift for Kiddo; Full support and unconditional love

Nov. 22--A Gift Grateful: My life

Nov. 23--3 Gifts Only in Christ: Salvation; Peace; Loving Others

Nov. 24--3 Gifts Humble: Overnight sitter for our anniversary; parents' willingness to help; White ceramic Christmas tree with peg lights like Grandma's--from a friend

Nov. 25--3 Gifts Ugly-Beautiful:  Skinny & sore kitty on the mend; Couri Family Christmas Tree 2012; My messy house

Nov. 26--3 Gifts Preparing: A home in Heaven; Baked yummies; God--the return of the King

Nov. 27--A Gift Handmade, Held, Happy: A meal made by a friend; Holding a little girl close to my heart at bedtime; A Happy Kiddo

Nov. 28--3 Gifts in Community:  Church family; Small group family; Kiddo's wonderful school

Nov. 29--3 Gifts Red:  Sparkly Christmas balls; Star on my ceramic tree; Bows on presents

Nov. 30--3 Gifts Astonishing!:  Advent; God with us; Grace

Masks & Rings & Evil Things

There once was a man named Grotowski and he had much to say about masks. In brief summary and simplified paraphrase, he held the idea that we put on masks that represent our roles in society, culture, and our lives.

 Grotowski's statement of principles govern how one takes on roles in the theatre. And through the taking on of characters in a play, one is free to throw off those assumed masks, "emerge from oneself," and become the "living organism who strives for higher motives" through performance; interaction with an audience; a mirroring of humanity.

As an artist, this approach has merit. Once onstage, you stop being yourself and become the character with whom the audience "interacts." This may sound strange. In our culture, we go to a dark place and watch recorded stories, projected in light up on a screen. This approach, while highly entertaining, is a flat, 2-dimensional representation. There is no "interaction" with the audience. The actor doesn't change his approach or level of action and reaction based on the rise and fall of audience response. It is a performance that is, in a way, static. But real, live theatre beats with a breathing soul. Performances are closer, more life and less story. It is peaking in on others' experiences and finding our own in theirs.

But reliance on performance to bring totality and authenticity, misses the mark for those of us who long to follow hard after God, that totality and authenticity are found in Christ alone. This requires something from me. It requires a transparency; admission that I am NOT whole or genuine without Christ as my center. It requires surrender of my other "selves"--masks, if you will--so that He can re-form me as a minister of the Gospel...the core of my identity.

The older I become, the more I long for authenticity; a desire to be real about the ugly of me. In this kind of transparency, it becomes necessary to see what is unsightly and take it, reveal it, broken and mutilated, before the grace and mercy of my Father because it is only in Him that I can be transformed.

My own efforts to reshape myself drain my spirit, leave me raw and disillusioned in the wake of what I am powerless to change.  Or I find myself sweeping with long strokes to hide the muck under the thickest of rugs, pretending, ever pretending, that I have ridded myself of it.

Impatience, anger, pride, bitterness, rage...these are my foe and my bane. I've been watching Lord of the Rings. I always look for metaphor in these great tales. Tolkien being my Brother in Christ, a fellow sojourner on this narrow path, doesn't disappoint in weaving them into the tales.

There is the One Ring, sought by so many, betrayer of each one who claims it as his own. Each would-be ring-bearer believes that the Ring can be wielded, bent to the wearer's power for the sake of good. Each who takes the Ring as his own, becomes saturated with evil, seeing only his own broken desire.

I put on my own Ring, my sackful of awfulness, claiming its power for myself, intent on doing "good" but instead, wielding my weapons, harming, destroying, bringing strife and discord. And in this way, I function in defiance of the Gospel; in rebellion to the Word:

"Always be humble and gentle. Be patient with each other, making allowance for each other’s faults because of your love.Make every effort to keep yourselves united in the Spirit, binding yourselves together with peace."

When was the last time I sought to bind myself to others in peace?

When was the last time, I relinquished my hold on my rights, in order sow peace for the sake of the Gospel, for the sake of someone else--even my own family?

Do I stand with Christ in His message of sacrificial love or do I stand for myself, only, wrapped in filth and selfish concern?


What about you, Christ-follower?

 It is cruel irony that this season is celebrated and touted by many as one of peace. "Keep Christ in Christmas!" we clamor. And then, when the lines are long and the prices are low and the parking spaces are all filled, we shout different. We push, complain, show no mercy, disregard the very Person whose birth we claim to herald.

When we refuse to bind in peace, we will, in every certainty, scatter and separate.  And then the peace of God in our hearts is smothered and the message of God to a lost and dying world is neglected.

My identity as a Minister of Christ--mine and yours--must become central. It must win out no matter what is said or done to me. It must win out no matter who cuts me off or cuts in line or speaks disrespectfully or pushes me aside. I am not called to correct others' mistakes or dole out my own brand of justice. I am called to love--simply and without prejudice.

Our masks--mother, father, brother, sister, wife, husband, manager, employee, customer, business owner, driver, traveler--these are not truly who we are. When we throw them off in lieu for our true selves--Ministers, Ambassadors of Christ--we become who we were created to be.

We become better mothers and fathers and husbands and wives and all the rest because we don't have to wear the masks. We become, as Grotowski said, "living organisms who strive for higher motives." We become children of God and our strivings to share this with others become pure and selfless and holy.

Today, I aim to take off my masks; to take off my Ring. This season calls for it. My life calls for it. A Holy, Just and Loving Father calls for it. Who, with me, will answer the call?

The Joy of the Lord is my Strength

I'm watching a video about thanking God and I can hear it in between the words, in the pauses. I hear the commode, every few minutes, begin to run, struggling to fill its tank with a supply of water that won't stay put. The plunger ball, old and slippery with rot, won't seal off the valve and so it runs water at a steady but slow trickle that has been seen and felt in our water and sewer bills.

And when the sewer bill came, I started searching for the problem. I called friends and I called companies, trying to discover why in the world we were paying as if we had 12 living here instead of 3. It was under the heading, Common Indoor Leaks, on a document offered by our water company's webpage, a scant few lines down the page.

This is often a silent leak which causes the tank to continually drain and refill. Check for a worn or improperly seated plunger ball (flapper valve) by dropping a few drops of food coloring, into the toilet tank. Do not flush. If a leak exists, the dye-colored water will seep into the bowl in about five minutes. If it does, the plunger ball (flapper valve) may need to be replaced or realigned. 

And of course that's it. And I get mad. Mad at myself for not putting two and two together much, much earlier than this. Mad at my landlord that this wasn't dealt with before--wasn't the repairman just in to look at the toilet two days ago? And the anger is righteous--or so I name it.

But the video, it reminds me of what I've been trying to drill into my own head for three months. Give thanks. In everything, give thanks. I've posted it on all the social media sites I frequent. I've told testimony of how He's begun to change me because in beginning to give thanks, I am opening to the change. I've encouraged others to do it.

And yet, here I sit, with a rough patch that needed my Eucharisteo and I've botched it.  I've done that more than once lately. And this little leak in the toilet reminds me that if I don't choose thanks in all things--in.all.things.--then the joy in my own reservoir slips through the cracks and leaves me constantly running, constantly thirsty. And the filling of my own "righteous anger" doesn't quench that thirst.

Another day, earlier in the week:

Sometimes, life happens and the norm isn't the norm anymore or at least it isn't right now. And sometimes, it makes me forget. Sometimes it makes me selfish. And even though I know that I am called to serve and that I should pour myself out and that I should set myself aside, well, sometimes I just don't want to.

I tend not to be too demanding, most of the time. Pride and anger are more my game. They make me feel strong and empowered and justified. They puff me up and keep me far from the Spirit-filled things. They are lies. They are poison and yet, I keep drinking them down in such quantities that the Big Gulp would be envious.

Late at night is just a better time for maintenance of a movie theater. No crowds, no employees...just vast quiet and time stretched out. And under the gun of deadlines and executive visits and inside the demand of perfection isn't a good place to grind my heels into the dirt and swig pride and anger. But I do it anyway because when you swallow down deep those sickly sweet soul-killers you can't see anything but yourself.

Self-sight blurs sight of others and their needs. The Hubbs needed my understanding and support. But that paled in comparison to my need to feel.

It's too easy to just let go of my anger because if I let it go then my feelings won't matter and I'll fade into the transparency of the background. So we fight and he's pressured and I'm poisoned by my own hand and selfish and drowning in myself.


Sometimes, I screw it all up.  I ask forgiveness and I start again. But it can be such a self-defeating cycle when you see every mistake, looming large and blocking your way to peace, joy, thanksgiving. But I think part of the victory is in the struggle to keep going. Keep trying. Keep keeping track. Keep loving. Keep asking forgiveness. The Word says something in regards to keeping on:  "Love never fails." or in another translation, "Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. So I will begin again whenever I make a mess. I will take broom and dustpan to my mess of an ash heap and sweep it away with the Joy of the Lord. And no matter how hard it gets or how much I lose or how little I feel I can offer, I will remember that the Joy of the Lord is my strength and if I have that, I have all I need.

Praise & Thanksgiving for a whirlwind, wonderful October:

Oct. 15-3 Gifts Re-Read: Romans 12:1-2; II Corinthians 10:5; Psalm 19:14
Oct. 16-3 Gifts Burning: Scentsy Pot full of Fall smells; the desire to be thankful in reverence; it is the season for candles
Oct. 17- 3 Gifts Ugly-Beautiful: Bed head b/c it means I've gotten sleep, Sink-ful of dishes because it means we've eaten, Laundry unfinished and everywhere because it means we are blessed with clothing
Oct.18-A Gift Shared, Saved, Surrendered: A cup of ice water with the Hubbs, A plethora of boxes and plastic containers for art projects, A life daily surrendered to His will
Oct. 19-3 Gifts Unexpected: A pair of earrings from a friend, A letter penciled by my Kiddo,
Oct. 20-3 Gifts Unconventional:
Oct. 21-3 Gifts Undervalued:
Oct. 22-A Gift Silent, Still, Strong: The quiet of the morning, the stillness of the house when we're going to bed, The love the Father has for us!
Oct. 23-3 Gifts Begun: My antique chair, This blogging habit, List of crochet gifts for the Christmas season
Oct. 24-3 Gifts Accomplished: Homemade Brownies, Butterbeer, & Peanut Butter & Fudge Trifle
Oct. 25-3 Gifts Enjoying: Friendship, Fall, Freedom in Christ!
Oct. 26-3 Gifts Extravagant: His Love, Date Night with the Hubbs, Blessings from His Word
Oct. 27-A Gift Humbling, Honoring, Happy: Being a Mother x3
Oct. 28-3 Gifts In Christ: Relationship, Forgiveness, True Joy
Oct. 29-3 Gifts On Time: Being there in the morning, God's timing, sermon series on Romans 14-15
Oct. 30-3 Gifts Overjoyed!: Time with my family, A fantastically good month, God's provision in our lives
Oct. 31-3 Gifts Hallowed: Bed time story time, Hubbs & Wifey evening time, God is good all the time!

Undone

Bad dreams are like phantoms in the night. For myself, sometimes they stay phantoms long after the sun's come up.  There's nothing like an insanely busy week to take your mind off of every other thing. Sometimes, that's a good thing. But my brain, while active in the subconscious dream state , remains vulnerable to the lies of the Deceiver. And sometimes, he works overtime to ensure that the thoughts I've worked so hard to capture and lay at the feet of Christ are taken back and let loose once I've entered that state of rest where my mind conjures up weird images.

And it's disconcerting when those phantoms follow me around in the light of day, plaguing my thoughts and my attitude. And somehow, the fact that they arrived at night, weakens my ability to fight them off in the day. I find myself irritable, sensitive--overly-so, emotional. 

And instead of turning to the salve of the Word, the sword of the Spirit, I turn to my own self-destructive methods. Acquire control, and then I'll feel better. Dominate the thoughts with spite-driven images that I conjure up from the ugliest parts of myself, and then I will be able to relax. But like sweet poison, it goes down smoothly, duping me into believing that this brand of venom is working. All of a sudden, it begins to wrack my insides with spasms and I am undone. Shame, remorse, confusion, frustration--all of these follow and I'm worse off than before. 

It's like being dragged back to square one. How can I ever claim joy and thankfulness and peace when I am so easily distracted by phantoms--unreal and utterly false? It seems that there are still hidden caverns of doubt and fear in my mind that have yet to be exposed to the brilliance of Truth, the rock-steady Word of the Cornerstone.

I am defeated a million times over, if I cannot find Your voice in the darkness of night! I will struggle and become deformed if I rely on my own methods. On my own, all I do is cut and tear and rip. And these wounds hurt and damage. They leave marks that I cannot reverse. Teach me, Abba, to wake with the Words of Life on my lips; resounding in my head, after the Prince of Darkness wreaks his havoc in my mind. Your Words will remind me of what is real.  Your Love is truly healing.  

*I can do all this through Him who gives me strength. 

*May these words of my mouth and THIS MEDITATION OF MY HEART be pleasing in your sight, O Lord, my Rock & my Redeemer 

*Do not conform to the pattern of this world be be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is; his good, pleasing and perfect will. 

*We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.  

*Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit,which is the word of God. And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests.With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people.