Beautiful Thorns

I am in the middle of the yard project from ... well you know where. It's not actually our yard, but the woods behind our yard, affectionately known as our "lot." Last year, we had the "green wall" which mostly consisted of thorny masses and life size vines of what I'm sure was something poisonous, all to camouflage the myriad snakes, spiders and other creepy crawly things. I hate things that crawl, so I was quite comfortable having them hidden. By this time last year, you could not walk through, see through, or otherwise discern anything save for the tops of trees that we knew were surely back there...just hidden. There were tons of birds that we could hear...not many we could see. It was beautiful, from a distance. We referred to it as our virtual aviary (because we really couldn't see the birds). Lush, green, vivid. The problem is, it was really weeds, thorns, and all manner of undesireable brush. Completely unattended. For years. And now it was ours.

So this spring as the green world was peeping out from what had to be the mildest winter on record, we decided to take action. Of course, many trips to Home Depot later, we now own more hand tools than I ever wanted and are about to embark on the "chain saw" purchase. Our lot consists of piles of brush, sticks, vines, thorns and debris as proof of our labor. It is a consuming project - it consumes our time, our strength, our nerves and our patience. It seems like it will never end; every time we start, it is difficult to stop because this vine leads to that bush, which leads to this tree, and so on. But at the end of each day's work, as we stand back and survey our accomplishments, something inspiring takes place. We see beauty. A tree here; a path there; deer grazing at dusk; bright blue birds flitting from branch to branch, calling to each other. And standing there drenched in sweat, covered head to toe with bugs and dirt, pricked by thorns that went through gloves and shoes, barely able to shade our eyes from the sun due to fatigue and sore muscles...it all seems worth it.

As we labor through this project, I see God's Hand at work in my life in much the same way. My heart has thorns and weeds that have grown up around it. There are places that are walled in by a thick mass of hurt, disappointment, jealously and greed. Just as thorns and weeds can choke out a plant's life and deprive it of necessary sunlight and nourishment, so these things do to my heart. I can't "will" them away...they have deep roots and require pruning, cutting, and breaking. Sometimes weeds come out easy, especially after a rain. Other times, they resist and threaten to pull the tree down as well. But strong trees with deep roots hang on; they don't die. They might lose a branch in the struggle, but they are ultimately stronger for it; you see, once the weeds and thorns are removed, the tree is free to receive ample sunlight and water so it can fluorish to an even greater height.

My heart will survive whatever pruning God does. Though it is painful and I might give up a branch or two, it will be worth it because beauty will be revealed from behind and beneath these thorns. And just like my woods, I will be free to soak in the Son and drink the living water.

I don't know how long our project will last...I suspect it will last just long enough. And when it is complete, something else will be complete as well in me.

The Great Exchange

You can't get something for nothing.

You get what you pay for.

You can't always get what you want.

Anything worth having is worth working for.

These are expressions that we have learned growing up, and they convey a basic message inherent to our human condition - it's all about me, and what I can get or have. These sayings don't speak about relationship - they speak about ownership and possession. Ever seen the bumper sticker "He who dies with the most toys wins?" We are a consumer-driven people - never satisfied. Why else would companies like Microsoft, Apple, Nintendo, Sony and the likes continue to put out the latest and greatest version or product? Why else would there be such fervor and anticipation at the Christmas season for the next game system, or the latest version of Halo or Guitar Hero? We want, and we want, and in the end...we are never satisfied. Never. Ever.

It takes more than stuff to give us peace and rest in the deepest part of our being. It takes more than a career, a house, a car, a vacation, a website, a blog, a church, a title, and the list goes on. If those things really did satisfy, we could "stop." Stop buying. Stop pursuing. Stop lusting. Stop wanting. Consumerism is like a drug, and many of us are addicted and don't know how to break the cycle.

As I sit here typing this blog on our new computer, my consumerism stares me in the face. My love for writing and receiving letters has been replaced by blogging. I am writing this as much for myself as for others. Humans, unlike animals, have depth of language and expression that is only limited by our desire to communicate and have relationship. But....our stuff gets in the way, doesn't it? There's no need to communicate and relate if we have our laptop, cell phone, HD TV and satellite hookup, high speed internet, WiFi cafe, Bluetooth, Jawbone, XM Radio, Iphone, Ipod....and the list goes on. We trick ourselves into believing all this stuff helps us communicate - but we're missing the face-to-face. We're shortcutting. We're using abbreviations and slang and emoticons, when really we should be sitting across a table having a cup of coffee.

In our quest for better, faster, smaller technology, we have devalued the one thing that should matter most - people. We leave voicemails, text messages, and send emails. We don't have to talk - our machines do it for us. In the old days, a boss would have his secretary "take a letter." He had to communicate to her (yes, that's how it was), and she then prepared the communication to the ultimate recipient. It involved people, people...does anyone out there hear me?

Have you ever taken an "unplugged" vacation or retreat? It's a fascinating experience because, guess what...we can all live and survive, even thrive, without our technology right at our fingertips. We can find out just how lonely and depraved we are inside. And if we do this with others, we can actually find so many other ways to "be". All of a sudden, people begin interacting, talking, laughing, sharing, and our hearts and souls are so, so grateful for the human connection.

There's another level to this rest our souls seek out, one that goes beyond the connection with other people. Getting back to my sayings at the beginning...you CAN get something for nothing. The Great Exchange is all about trading in our junk for something everlasting. Taking our broken dreams, dashed hopes, hate, anger and other emotional baggage and giving them to a Creator who offers peace, hope, forgiveness, and everlasting life. God says "come to me all you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest." We have to come. We have to let go of our junk. And he in turns gives us what we can't get, buy or achieve on our own. It goes deep into our soul - that part of us that is unexplainable via science, medicine, physics or logic. It is our compass that points true north - to the God of heaven and earth. It is not satisfied until we have opened our clenched fist and let the sand of our disappointment and hurt slip through...only then can our hand be filled with grace and mercy. It warms us to the core and satisfies our deepest longing - to be truly connected and loved unconditionally. It is a great exchange. It cannot be done on a cell phone, over the internet, in a voice mail, or even in a blog. It is a personal invitation and encounter with the living God. Won't you come?

You Should Be on Iron Chef

So my family enjoys a passion for cooking and good food, and me and my son in particular like to watch others cook, which equates to thorough enjoyment of the Food Network. Of course, my passion for cooking goes way back...before cable TV...when there were "real" cooking shows on PBS (i.e., no Bam, glam, glitz or plunging necklines:))

But I digress. So last night, as we are watching a recent episode of Iron Chef, my son looks at me and says, "Mom, you should be on Iron Chef because you are a great cook." Of course, being the insecure person that I am, I feigned thankfulness and backed it up immediately with, "well I don't think I could work under all that pressure, not knowing what the secret ingredient is."

Now my son is 13, so he is blessed with a world view still somewhat encompassed by safety, security and being provided for...in other words, he doesn't see limitations the way I, and many adults, do. He saw the basic truth...that his mom is a wonderful cook, and therefore, deserves a place on a world renowned show! He has really never known a bad meal at my hands. He has always had plenty, and he has seen creativity in the kitchen as I often don't cook with recipes. As far as he is concerned, I am the Queen of the Kitchen, and he has no reason to doubt my total success. He has absolute faith in me.

So what does this have to do with anything? Everything, if faith is part of our lives. Faith is believing in something we can't see. It is total abandon and trust, and it is absolutely necessary as we walk out our lives each day. Faith means we don't give up when things get hard, because we believe Christ is right there with us and carrying us, even if it's just one more step. Faith is believing that if we can give good gifts to our children, even though we are sinful, then God can give infinitely more to us as our perfect Father in heaven. Like a good meal that I give my son every day, my Father in heaven has wonderful food for me each day, in His word - the Bible. Has it ever let me down? Not so I can remember. Does He provide that perfect, comfort "food" when I'm feeling low or blue? Absolutely. When I'm rejoicing, there's a feast waiting for me...right there in His word. I don't ever need to fear going hungry. I have no reason to doubt my God.

So why is that absolute and abiding faith so hard? Well, oftentimes our life is under pressure. There are time pressures, money pressures, relationship pressures - and it's constant, every day. We carry the pressure of "doing the thing we don't want, instead of doing the thing we want" as Paul says. But....in this life, we can have faith if we KNOW the secret ingredient. Christ in us. That's it. With Christ, all things are possible. With Christ, we can know peace unlike the world offers, we can experience unconditional love, we can partake of divine fellowship with Him through prayer and worship.

So, while I might doubt my ability to succeed in Kitchen Stadium, I can know without a doubt that in the stadium of life, as long as I carry that secret ingredient, Christ, in my heart and mind - the pressure does not have to overtake me. I can create marvelous and wonderful "dishes" with my life as I put my faith in God to work in me...and I can be victorious.

Mr. Incredible and Angels

Ever had one of those days where something happens and you're not really sure how to process the event, let alone make any sense out of it? It's a "near miss" kind of day...you just know there has to be a supernatural explanation.

We were at a friend's home last week enjoying some of the best chowder I've ever had and some really good company. The home was warm, inviting, and buzzing with the sound of friendship. We needed to leave so we went out to our car. I got in, but my husband was standing on the driver's side looking puzzled. He asked me to come and look at something, and there it was. A huge tree limb on the ground, stretching beyond the length of the car, almost preventing him from opening the door. We both looked at each other as the realization of the situation came to us - the limb had fallen while we were inside. There were a couple of scratches, then we found a few dents. My husband went inside to get our host so he could show him what happened and discuss the situation. As they came outside, eventually the entire housefull of people followed. As we all stood looking at the car, suddenly our host looked at the REAR of the car - the bumper was cracked in two pieces and there was even more damage...because there was an even larger section of the tree on the ground. Now people, I'm not talking about a little branch. I'm talking about an entire top section of a very tall oak tree. These limbs were of the crushing variety. As everyone oohed and aahed in bewilderment, we decided we would both call our insurance companies in the morning and go from there. We drove away.

It wasn't until the next morning, when talking to my insurance company, that I realized how blessed we were. "Was anyone hurt?" was the first question the agent asked. No, no one was in the car. "Was there any glass damage?" No. "Is the car driveable?" Well, yes.

The sections of tree that fell could have, and should have, crushed our car. Their position on the ground was nothing short of miraculous - as if they had been pushed aside from the car at the last minute. We could have been in the car. We could have been standing right there. Kids could have been playing in that section of the yard. None of this was the case, though. You see, I serve a very big God, and He has given His angels charge over me and my family, and I choose to believe His angels were hard at work that day.

My story doesn't end there. After talking to the insurance company, we determined that every dollar of the repair is covered. Every penny. Even if we need a rental car during the repair time. It's not because we have great insurance. It's because we have God's favor in this moment.

Most of us are familiar with the movie "The Incredibles." It's a fantastic story and wonderful entertainment. But in my world, the real world I live in every day, I know there really is a "Mr. Incredible." His name is Jesus. And He can do anything.

Thansgiving?

Okay, so it suddenly hit my brain that next week is Thanksgiving. How did that happen? For lots of people this is a time to be with families, eat way too much food they only eat that day, watch football, play football, and just be happy. Of course, there is the occasional family conflict because after all, these are people you don't hang out with every day. But really, it's a pretty calm, predictable day with lots of nice feelings and comfort.

Then there are those for whom this day is not so great. Maybe there isn't any family. Maybe there isn't any food. Maybe there's no TV to watch football, or no yard to play football. Maybe it's a day you have to work because that's just what you need to do. Maybe it's a reminder of something tragic or a loss you have experienced. So there really isn't a lot of comfort.

Yesterday morning, I went on a field trip for our daily staff meeting. Now, I work in a church office so we often have wonderful staff meetings where we talk, laugh, pray, and come together as one group around a nice conference table in a warm and cozy office - all of our coffee mugs and water bottles spread out. We're just happy to be there for another day. Yesterday was diferent. We got on a school bus with Butch Johnson - a man who many would say should be enjoying the retired life. But instead, he is serving families in the inner city of Richmond by providing a safe place for kids to go every Friday night called the Northside Outreach Center. He has a huge vision and faith to match. We drove around to see his world - Essex Village, Battery Park just to name a couple. We stopped on a corner - the same corner where another school bus full of children was shot at just weeks ago. We saw homes that some of our staff grew up in, but those neighborhoods have changed. We viewed homes, apartments and stores known for drug deals and other activity.

And from the relative safety and warmth of that school bus, I felt such heaviness. Inside those homes are crying, hungry children. Inside those houses are broken families, people with addictions. There is great loss everywhere - loss of a parent or a brother. There are kids who don't know your parents are supposed to stay with you, love you, provide for you.

I'm not sure Thanksgiving has much meaning for many who live in these houses. It's just another day to try and survive. And as Butch Johnson and his team of volunteers plan to serve 400 or so people Saturday with a Thanksgiving meal, I realized it's really not about giving thanks for what we have...it's about GIVING because we are so thankful. Thank you, Butch, for getting the vision and giving all that you are.

Rain

I will be the first to admit that I really don't like rain. It messes up my hair, my dog doesn't want to go outside and driving becomes a challenge. Rainy days are usually dark, damp (different than wet) and gloomy. Rainy days are best suited to some nice hot coffee, a blankie and a good movie - in my opinion. Sure, there are those infrequent summer rains where the sun is shining during the rain, and then the rainbow comes. But I'm thinking about the fall rain, like the one we just experienced last weekend.

Here on the east coast, we have endured a very long drought. Water basins are receding, grass is turning brown, and the trees aren't quite as vibrant in their fall display as they can be. Then last Thursday it started to rain. We needed the rain so badly. And it rained Friday. All day. All night. This was a long, tempestuous, raging, soaking rain. There were brief moments of showers, but mostly...it rained.

I was in a van with 14 other people, along with 3 other vans and several cars, all heading to a camp in North Carolina for our annual youth fall retreat. So much planning and prayer went into this weekend - why, of all weekends, did it have to rain? Rain meant outside activities might be cancelled, and the students would get cranky, and the clothes and bedding would get wet and muddy. Rain meant the drive would take longer. Rain made for a cloudy, dreary and cold weekend outlook.

We all arrived safely and by 7pm, we were eating dinner. Then we unloaded all the gear - yes, some of it got wet and muddy, but most of it survived the trek to our boxcars where we made our beds and got ready for the evening activity -- a scavenger hunt. In the dark. In the misty rain. But what fun we had...no one thought about how wet it was. Several students just kicked off their shoes, content to be barefoot in the large soccer field hunting tiny red plastic firemen, rubber chickens and the elusive small black checker piece.

Then we headed to the Crossing, our meeting place for the weekend, where we experienced the first worship service of the retreat - our introduction to what God had in store for us that weekend. Hot cider and warm nachos followed and no one thought of the rain. It was simply a beautiful rhythym accompanying the chatter of 70 students and leaders. The gym opened for late night basketball, ping pong and other activities. It was a little bit of a walk - in the mist and light rain. My hair was a mess of curls and frizz, but it didn't matter. The gym was alive with energy, intensity and laughter. The leaders took the students to task on the basketball court, while others just enjoyed hanging out with their friends - content to just be there.

As i went back to my boxcar to settle in around 12:30 am, I thought about the rain and how I usually respond to it, which is to crawl inside and wait for it to subside. That has changed. This rain became a spiritual statement to me from my Creator - He was bringing the rain of his presence to this place - soaking the ground, the trees, and every pine needle and bench we would walk or sit upon. He was pouring out the foundation for our weekend - His Holy Spirit. Suddenly, this rain became alive. It breathed life everywhere.

All through the night, I heard the rain - steady and soaking. The next morning, there was no more rain - instead, there was sunshine. It shone all that day and into the next. It was a glorious day that we welcomed with energy and open hearts. Our students experienced a retreat weekend they will not soon forget. As we closed our Saturday night service, we returned back to God the worship He so deserved, thankful for everything He is. He rained down on us so that we could know Him more and walk closer with Him. I don't think I will look at rain the same again.

Cement Shoes

Most of us are familiar with the old ganster films, where the innocent, or not so innocent, victim ends up in a river with "cement shoes." Well, this past Sunday in church, I experienced my own version of cement shoes...right there in the pew during worship. There wasn't a ganster with a long, but endearing, Italian last name. There weren't any open, vile threats against my life. There weren't any guns, or guys with no neck staring me down. It was just me...and the presence of God.

Cement is an interesting element. You buy it in a bag of dry, powdered material. It only becomes cement when water is added, in the right proportion, and then it sets. Once it is set, it takes a sledge hammer to break it up. It is solid. That's why it is used for things like patios, fence postings, and throwing people into rivers. It's meant to KEEP YOU WHERE YOU ARE.

So there I was in church. I had skimmed the bulletin and worship had begun. Familiar songs had me well on my way to enjoying the congregational interface with our Creator. But then something happened. It got personal. You know, the ALTAR time....dun, dun, dun. We were being led into some songs that were very contemplative and declarative at the same time...dangerous territory when you are just enjoying the predictable moment. Because when you least expect it, the Holy Spirit enters your worship and you are a goner. Of course, this is a good thing...unless you have cement shoes.

Jesus, I love you more than life. I can still hear it. The resounding chorus. Even before the altar call, I knew what was coming. The Holy Spirit is gentle, and when you have heard His voice before, it is not strange. I have been desiring more of God's very Word in my life, yet not allowing the time to foster this relationship. I knew what I wanted - what God was wanting from me, but I was allowing everything else to get in the way. The pastor gently interjected into the worship service to come to the altar if we felt like we needed to take a step, make a declaration, somehow make this a personal dialog between ourselves and the Most High. Yes, I cried...but it was inside. The voice was swallowed in the tears that were streaming down my face. The couple right in front of me, left their row to go down front. One by one, they came to the altar to make a public plea to Jesus. And my feet did not move.

Cement. It's as plain as that. The cement of my fear, my insecurity, my pride, my (feel free to fill in the blank here). I could sway and sing and cry. But I could not move. I opened my eyes and desparately looked around for a sign, a clue, a mere impulse that could move me from my place. But all I could do was close my eyes again and sing...and weep.

God, being the gracious and merciful Creator, met me where I was. His compassion wrapped around me and I knew His presence. But I never recovered from my cement shoes. They were too heavy - the fear of what people would think, was my trip to the altar genuine, what about the sin in my life (because we are all sinners), what about......this is what haunted me throughout the service and on my drive home. Why couldn't I move?

Because I was mindful of my utter need for a Savior at that moment, and at the same time, my complete undeserving soul. The water of conviction had been mixed with all my doubts and fears, creating a concrete that embedded my feet so deeply. But Scripture tells us that God's love for us is deep and wide. He sets our sin as far as the east is from the west. That is as far as far can be. John 10:10 says Satan comes to steal, kill and destroy. But Jesus comes to give life everlasting. I propose to you that the cement is stealing, killing and destroying my life and maybe yours. Once it is set, it is hard, and not easily broken. But God's love and grace, and the work Jesus did on the cross is once and for all time. We have free access to the Throne, but we must believe.

Faith can move mountains. So how hard could it be to move a couple of cement shoes? Nothing is too hard for my God. By faith, certainly I can move a couple of cement shoes. I'm coming down next time. Watch out for the fallout when my shoes break apart.

It is time that the cement shoes we walk in are broken forever.