in the last days

Written 67 years after Jesus Christ was crucified and raised from the dead, 2 Timothy was written by the apostle Paul to encourage his brother in faith, Timothy.

2 Timothy 3: 1 explains that, "in the last days, there will be very difficult times." Paul continues by sharing "for people will love only themselves and their money. They will be boastful and proud, scoffing at God, disobedient to their parents and ungrateful.  They will consider nothing sacred."

In the last days, there is unloving.
In the last days, there is unforgiving.
In the last days, there is slander.
In the last days, there is no self-control.
In the last days, there is cruelty.
In the last days, there is hate.
In the last days, there is betrayal, recklessness, pride, love of pleasure.
In the last days, there is depravation.
In the last days, there is counterfeit faith.
In the last days.

As I grapple with the horror of twenty 1st graders mercilessly being shot, as I struggle to understand the death of 6 educators, and I wrestle with the hate and the evil and the pain, I am reminded that one thousand-nine-hundred-forty-five-years-ago, a letter was written to give insight, to offer encouragement, and to warn of days to come.

And no matter how long these last days last, I have been alerted to the brutal reality of them.
No amount of denial, of blame, of self-righteousness,
no amount of justification, or investigation, or theorizing, or bargaining,
will erase or explain...the truth I face is how will I choose to live.

Will I forgive?
Will I love?
Will I speak truth?
Will I use self-control?
Will I offer kindness?
Will I keep friendship sacred, be cautious and wise,
Will I be humble?
Will I live in deep, abiding, obedient faith?

right and wrong

Right and wrong.

Right..."I'm right and you're wrong," feels so good, so successful, so winning, so accomplished.
Right feels right, how it's supposed to be, meant to be, designed to be.
Right gets glory, faces applause, gains popularity,
Right opens doors and drives opportunity,
Right is backed-by-the-law, understood-by-man, and upheld by God.
Right.

Right?

And wrong, well it's just plain wrong.
Wrong is immoral, it's heinous, it's ugly, it's contemptible, it's rejected, it's scoffed at,
it's the worst place to be,
it's unmatched,
incongruent,
it's laughed at,
it's uncomfortable,
it's bitter and deviant and evil,
it's punished.
Wrong.

Wrong?

Right and wrong; issues of justice, matters of fairness, lyric of life and death,
Right and wrong batter us, shake us, tempt and twist us, they taunt, they question, they plant seeds of doubt, they create denial, spread the poison of deceit, they condemn us.
Right and wrong are parents to guide us, instruct us, shame us, and punish us.
Right and wrong means blame has a place and blame is the ultimate deception.
Blame demands there be a reason why and why fights against faith. Blame is the slanderous little sister who whispers half-truths, emboldens bad behavior, and accuses others, empowering you and your rightness.

Right and wrong run against a call, a command, an invitation to live by faith because in the forum of faith, trust and obedience are the tools, the weapons, the skills, the means by which to live.

In the life of faith, God is bringing us into a relationship based on trust, not on right and wrong.  And when things go wrong, or seem to be right, the only way to know truth is to call upon God, to listen, and to obey. So often, we long for rightness, we dismiss wrongness and we confuse our works, our actions as the language by which faith is redeemed.  It has nothing to do with us, and it has everything to do with trust in God and with obedience to His Word.

The Word always was.
The Word always is.
The Word will always be.

Do you trust God enough to carry you through life?
Do you follow God closely enough to believe He knows the best course?
Do you obey God even when what He asks seems impossible,
seems improbable, seems, well, it seems wrong?

Wrong in the context of that's not how it's supposed to be; that's not how it's supposed to feel. And blame partners with wrong to give ammunition, to fuel the fire, to strengthen to fight against faith.  That's not the formula for success, instead it seems to be the recipe for defeat, right?

Do you realize that God doesn't care what you or I deem as a right way or a wrong way,
what He desires,
what He long for is an obedient heart?

When we get beyond
ourselves,
our definitions,
our qualifications of how to live and we trust,
that's when we find faith,
that's when we find peace,
that's when we find unconditional love carrying us through.

God is bigger than right and wrong.
God is stronger than choice and consequence.
He is infinitely more powerful and exponentially more brilliant,
He is.

Calling me back

You're calling me back,
back to a time
where the journey was uncertain,
where the place was unknown.

You're beckoning me to
remember
a moment,
a season,
a movement
in my life when all
I could do was
trust you.

You're reminding me of a
promise to never leave me
or forsake me,
urging me to remember
a commitment to be bigger
than me.

You're reaching out to me to
walk in your shoes,
to speak what you call me to say,
to share what you urge me to tell.

You're humbly reminding me
that you are you, and i am not.
That your ways are not my ways,
that your thoughts are not my thoughts,
you're insisting that i do not belong here,
ultimately, eventually, eternally,
i am part of something more.

You're asking me
to have courage,
to trust,
to obey

You're loving me in the way
that only you can love,
you're holding me in your arms,
carving my name in your hand,
collecting my tears as they fall,
and strengthening me to do this thing;
to share my story,
to give life to my words,
and to give breath to my tale,

and i hear you,
i trust you,
i love you

temporary and eternity

this fight, this test,
this pain, this mess,
it's only temporary

it feels so big,
so strong,
intense,
it's only temporary

this loss, this shock,
this time, this wreck,
it's only temporary

Yet,
what we suffer now
is
nothing
compared to the glory
he will 
reveal
to us later.

Romans 8:18

this joy, this rage,
this run, this page
it's only temporary

this peace, this hope
this promise, this rope
is offered
to all
and is filled with
eternity

preparation

coming in waves; relentless and continual
there's no letting up, not yet
big, breathless
pacing

preparation stalks my mind,
teases my soul,
haunts my heart,

it's the constant,
the jealous lover,
vying for attention,
being consumed,
every moment leading up to this.

it's exhilarating and exhausting,
that humble place of mercy and weakness,
when I know what I do,
what I seek,
what I hope,
can only be accomplished by God alone.

it takes bravery to live,
it takes courage to dream,
it takes passion to believe,
and it takes faith to see

what will be.

collision

it's that moment of
collision
when what's beginning has
ended
and what was is completed

emotions swirl
i don't know how to feel
and i feel
everything

exhaustion
sadness
exhilaration
satisfied
envious
devalued
full
shaky-spirit-intervention
in awe
humble
petty
weary
human

i feel so human

how am i supposed to be?
again, i ask,

Father,
fill my heart,
change my heart,
show me how to be

loving is hard,
forgiving harder still

words inadequate
spirit stirring
oh, so tired

just be.
rest.
retreat.
renew, heal, refill,

and

give again, until emptied,
this is transformation

improv

So, my son and I are driving down a quiet, neighborhood street,
when he notices a garage door is left open, the light is on, and the back door to the garage is yawning wide.


Pondering, he considers what may have happened.

So, I say, "maybe the driver came home from work and forgot the laundry hanging on the clothesline, and sprinted toward the backyard."

He says, "well, I think the driver spotted the rare woodpecker that was seen in Shoreview and he's running to the backyard to observe it."

"No, that can't be," I say.  "I think it's a homeowner who was being chased by a neighbor who is always playing practical jokes and he's run to the backyard to retaliate before being hit by a paint ball."

"Uh huh, Mom," he retorts, "the person sees Mitt Romney skydive down and land in his backyard and he wants to talk."

Bursting out laughing, I continue to drive on my way with my son to his den meeting for Boy Scouts.

Conversation.  Have some!

mad lib writer

A request came my way today,
an insistence that my son represent more of himself in school,
a desire to see who he is as a writer.

If that were all, I'd fully support it.

My son has Asperger's Syndrome. And while that doesn't define who he is; because he's so much more than that, Asperger's plays a large role in the outcome of his work.

He is being evaluated, graded, observed, and asked to preform in a neurotypical world, with neurotypical assignments, and neurotypical evaluations.  

But, his work is not neurotypical.

He writes with a literal mind.
He writes in response to the question presented to him.
He writes what's asked of him.

He's like a mad lib writer, the______(insert size) box sits on top of the ________(name of object).  It is_______(insert weight), it is________(insert texture), and it is________(insert color).

I believe he can learn more about creativity; call out the color of objects, describe the texture of things, examine the details of a piece.  I believe he can practice writing these things down.  

But the sophistication, the steps it takes to make a creative and well written literary analysis of two works of writing is very, very difficult.  And the words, the thoughts, the sentences he writes will be very, very basic.

Analysis involves thoughts and feelings, expressions and interpretations of emotion, of action, of opinion.  And what if my son doesn't think, doesn't feel, doesn't express, doesn't interpret, doesn't have an opinion on the literary pieces?  What if that concept is so foreign, so other-worldy, so neurotypically designed that he can't make the leap? Or at best, what if his thoughts, his reactions, his words, are so basic, so elementary-aged, that it doesn't measure up to the sophistication of a sixteen year-typical-thinking brain?

Will he get the A?
Will he even pass?

from a few to standing room only

excited; we entered the atrium
eager; we looked around
soaking it all in

people gather, in black t-shirts
huddled together, inward
unacknowledged, we slipped by

others centered around their circle,
eating, laughing, backs to us
we walked quietly, more slowly to the wall

sitting at an empty table, I waited.

entering in, a few worshippers in the auditorium,
we awkwardly looked around
the countdown signaling the start....and then
the countdown was reset, with few people there, we waited longer
for the service to begin

no one said hello.
no one smiled at us.
no one acknowledged us.
no. one.

we left.

a few miles away, we entered another building, another place, another church
worlds away from the brief journey down the rode we traveled to arrive in this place

and as a late arrival, we waited in the foyer, until the right moment to enter the sanctuary
and this place was standing room only.  The seats filled to over flowing, we listened and observed, watched and soaked in the service outside of the worship space.

Church.
American Church.

It can be cold and lonely.
It can be full to bursting.
It can be a place to find answers.
It can be a place where questions consume.
It can be a gathering where strangers can become friends.
It can be a reminder that strangers remain strangers still.

the reverse of me

piece by piece sticks to others until there is nothing left of me
i need to find restoration, i need to be filled, i need

me doesn't ever need, ever.
the reverse of me is in constant need

me is suspicious, always wondering if what you say you really mean
the reverse of me listens with a full heart, hearing what you say

me is critical, knowing that it never is what it says
me gets cynical, expecting the worst, believing you will let me down, and when you do, instead of holding you accountable, i say to myself, "i told me so"
the reverse of me sees the potential, understands the struggle, and holds your hand as you walk through

me is weary, carrying things that are much too heavy and wondering why i landed where i did
the reverse of me doesn't hold on to wrong things,
the reverse of me would know when to let go

me is a control-addict, managing every detail because others won't
the reverse of me believes in the human spirit

me has to see, me has to know, me has to have all the right answers, me can't fail, me can't make mistakes, me should no better
the reverse of me walks blindly; by faith, trusting and obeying,
on mission with a me-sized capacity wrapped in a God-sized embrace

How do I get to the reverse of me?

"Come, all you who are weary laden, and I will give you rest..."

it's probably the light

When I try to picture my faith,
when I try to visualize it,
when I try to capture the invisible,
when I rest in palpable peace,
when I see love at it's brightest,
it's probably experienced, embraced, and understood in the light.

I try to imagine a place where it's so bright, the sun is secondary
I try to dream of a space where it's so brilliant, nothing man-made can imitate it
I try to see, really see God in others and it's when I see light

"The way of the righteous is like the 1st gleam of dawn." proverbs four: eighteen.

"I looked up and there before me was a man dressed in linen, with a belt of fine gold from Uphaz around his waist.  His body was like topaz, his face like lightning, his eyes like flaming torches, his arms like the gleam of burnished bronze, and his voice like the sound of a multitude. " daniel ten: five - seven

"I saw the glory of the God of israel coming from the east.  His voice was like the roar of rushing waters, and the land was radiant with his glory." ezekiel forty-three: one - three

"And the city has no need of the sun or moon, for the glory of God illuminates the city, and the Lamb is it's light." revelation twenty-one: twenty-three

I want to be surrounded, soaked, drenched, and drown in that light.

Amazing God,

Fill me with your light

Surround me with your brilliance

Awaken me to your presence

Soar through me

Amen

fading in fall

August is always amazing and difficult for me.
It's the climax of summer's shortening breath, it's the fading of bright light days into wisps of fall.

It's the hallmark of big days; it's my favorite things:
Birthday.  Anniversary.   The Summit.   State Fair. Weekends away. Garden harvesting.

It's burning hot and chilly cool.
It's unpredictable.
It's steady, steamy days.
It's expectation.

I guess because my world revolves around the anticipation of September, August fills me with so much anxiety.  I hold my breath in August and don't release it until the month passes away.

From the tender age of five until this, my fortieth year, I expect a lot of September.  And I use all my energy in August to build that pressure.
That wonder and hope and dream of September.
August signaled getting ready, ready to fade into fall.

New pencils.
Sharpened and smooth.
Erasers plump and full.
Colored pencils brilliant and new.

And crayons, and markers, and folders and notebooks.  Lined up, arranged, selected and stationed in a backpack ready to go.

New clothes. Folded by color, pressed, and prepared. New image.
New classes, new friends, new teachers, new relationships.

And feelings and emotions, expressions and attitudes lined up, arranged, selected and stationed in a heart ready to go.

Elementary school days and middle school days and high school days and college days and now, so many years of Sunday school days.
New ministry years.
New goals.
New, new, new.

Accomplish, exceed, conquer, preform.

I'm going to jump, again.  Leap into the predictably unpredictable free fall of leading volunteers. Of hopes matched with reality.  Of dreams meeting practicality.  Of struggles colliding with miracles.

As I stand on the doorstep of September, I am whimsically sober and  oh-so-hopeful.

Oh God, come; and Be.
And may I be still and see.

conclusion jumping

I struggled intensely with depression for a few years; I went through the motions of diagnosis, medication, and therapy and what I learned was profound.  Having been introduced to Cognitive Behavior Therapy during this season, I was instructed on the illogic of conclusion jumping. CBT taught me when emotionally and intellectually in a depressed state of mind, I was led to making a lot of assumptions and jumping to a lot of conclusions.  And these results led to chaos, pain, rejection, and sickness.  Mental sickness.  Emotional sickness.  Spiritual sickness. Physical sickness.

My mind would cycle in a process of assumption, conclusion, and depression.  Again and again, I'd whip around this torrent of emotion.  I was a mess.  Often the experience would go something like this. I feel bad.  Someone looks at me.  I think they hate me.  I feel worse.

This would happen again and again.  I'd assess a situation.  I'd wrongly conclude based on limited data.  I would be even worse off than before.

I see this kind of thinking rampant all around us.  We, sinners by nature, take a few pieces of information and conclusion jump. TV Shows are famous for this, it's funny!  Movies and books are written, telling stories of two characters perceiving and concluding and the results are disastrous. Romeo thought Juliet was died.  So he died.  She awoke.  Tragedy!

The less we conclude, the more we ask questions, the less we judge, the more we love...ultimately, that's what God has called us to do.

wonder

It's a life changing, family altering kind of day.
A day of surrender. A day of change.

For six years, we've trained and toiled, loved and developed, nagged and laughed, cuddled and wrinkled our noses at Charlie, our cocker spaniel.

We got him when the kids were 3, 8, and 10.
We've seen him through shots, and kenneling, snowstorms and fireworks.

We've laughed at his endless pursuit of chasing tennis balls and gray squirrels and wild rabbits parading through our yard.  We've taught him tricks, messed with his toys, and cleaned up his piles of pooh.

It's taken days to come to this decision, tears shed, notes written, arguments given.  A weight pressed down on us all in different ways, but we accept it as it is.

Surrender day.

And I awakened to this day with a sense of wonder, not weariness.  Of awe and not sadness.

Expectancy.
Anticipation.

What's new that God is doing?
Where will I see His hand print next?
What new expression of mission will He have for me?

It's not what I thought I'd feel.

A quiet peace.
A release.
And a wonder.

hours of ordinary

Life is filled with hours of ordinary developing our character and then highlighted with brief minutes of magnificence;  and it's in these minutes that character is defined.

Hours of shaping response, of creating habits,
hours of practicing words and actions, thoughts and deeds,
hours of longing and hoping, lusting and pursuing,
hours of worship and reverence, awe and wonder,
hours of waiting, of growing patience, of learning, or living
simply hours of passing time.  And all that time, all those hours translate at the moment of brilliance, magnificence, transcendence, when character is revealed.

Often, these moments sneak up unaware.
At times, these moments are displayed in front of an audience.
Other times, these moments are quiet, unassuming, potent and deadly.
Always, these moments impact.

How are you spending your hours?
What do they reveal about who you are?

dying and living

Sadness abounds; death of a loved one, death of a marriage, death of picturesque parenting, death of a relationship.  In the process of living, there is a parallel process of dying.   Fears reign and darkness fills the day.  It’s bleak & hopeless, there is much to be overwhelmed by.

And then these words come, this picture is painted, this melody of hope sings loudly, this ribbon of truth is woven;

“Do not be afraid, for I have ransomed you,

I have called you by name, and you are mine.

When you go through deep waters,

I will be with you.

When you go through rivers of difficulty,

You will not drown.

When you walk through the fire of opposition,

You will not be burned up;

The flames will not consume you.

For I am the Lord, your God,

The Holy One of Israel, your savior…

You are precious to me,

You are honored, and

I love you.”

Isaiah 43

Grieving family, you are loved.

Hurting wife, you are precious.

Disillusioned and fearful parent, you are not alone.

And, little girl, you will not be consumed.

You are rescued, you are saved.

Moving from caution to courage....

How do I move from caution to courage? Life in suburbia U.S.A. is clinical, sterile, cautious, carefully planned. Grass grows in neat lawns, trimmed regularly Gardens bloom in carefully placed plots, fences in place, with only one gate Cars sleep in measured out stalls where garage doors close Socks in the sock drawer, Spoons washed and neatly tucked into silver wear bins, Labeled water bottles, labeled coffee mugs, labeled junk drawers, Labels and categories, Lids and containers, Plans and calendars, Inboxes and mailboxes and donation boxes and school paper boxes Life tucked into twenty hour increments. This kind of living leads to caution. Where comes the courage for living when everything is so carefully, cautiously arranged?

a prayer for my friend

Oh Lord,

Give her new eyes to see
Give her a new hope to believe
Give her a new path to follow, and a new life to lead

Give her a new joy to fill
Give her new hands to praise
Give her a new promise to cling to, and new love to feel

Give her a new mind to experience
Give her a new mission to accomplish
Her life is radically changed, give her a faith that's bigger, bolder, stronger, and braver to be.

Amen.

living a layered life

We live our life in layers,
but we try to put life in boxes

In finite minds, that are bound, we categorize to control
In time-formed days, we desire to accomplish one thing first, then the next
In a shaped destiny beyond our understanding, we fight and struggle, rebel and resist
box after box,

but yet,

we find that somethings don't fit under our wildest imaginations,
we cannot create a box to conform to real life.

Its time to throw out the boxes.

Living a layered life, to me, means that at any one moment, I represent so many different things.
I am-my identity
I am skills-my ability
I am adult-my expectations
I am human-my emotions
I am spirit-my soul
I am created-my beginnings
I am eternal-my ever afters

These layers ever exist,
dancing within one another,
ever breathing, continually being.

Layers of living in gold and magenta, sapphire and emerald.

At times, one hue rises above another
At times, hues collide in a kaleidoscope of color
At times, a mass of chaos

But always moving, forming, shaping, creating
Living a layered life is a multi-spectrum, technicolor event.

In box form, we segment,
but in reality, it's all there, blending and weaving, twisting and dancing...

I think understanding will change everything

endless grace

My son has a disability.
A diagnosis.
A thing that impacts all other parts of his life.

 It's not visible upon first inspection of him.   But the deeper you look, the longer you examine, the more you see he's not like others.  He is not like his peers.  He is different.  He stands alone. Separate.

And yet, in this difference, his depth of compassion and grace is richer than my own.
His ability to forgive, to wait until I understand and get it right is limitless.

He's been struggling with a literature class in his school.  He was given an assignment and instead of going through the basic steps of introduction, he was thrown into the fray.  Read the book, discuss, get quizzed on selected chapters, write an essay and develop a soundtrack appropriate for the essay.

As the days passed, his frustration grew.  He didn't comprehend the literature, and so how could he synthesize it? How could he thoughtfully build interpretation, if he hadn't understood? The teacher and the class raced ahead, while he remained, stubbornly, rightly on page one, paragraph one.  Oh, he obeyed and he read.  But he didn't get it.

And finally, I caught up to where he was at. God, in heaven, how I feel like I failed him.  He waited, patiently, as teachers threatened and frustration mounted and he grew confused and shut down, but he didn't move forward from his spot.  He asked questions, but didn't get answers.  It wasn't him.  It was us, the teachers and leaders in his life.

It was us that failed, not him.

And now that I know,
now that I understand, I can help.

I read the first page, aloud,
the opening paragraphs
and as we read,
we discussed,
we defined terms,
and he understood.

How long he waited.
How long I let him down.

As leaders, we race ahead and then have the audacity to get mad at our people because they are confused, they are frustrated.
And we blame them, call them lazy or stupid,
when in all truth, we haven't led well.
We judge their expression,
we conclude their thinking,
we assume so much,
when in truth, we haven't taken the time to investigate.

A good leader has followers who know and understand.
Followers who can agree with mission, repeat vision, and carry out the plan.

I am humbled and amazed at the endless grace my son gave me in this assignment.

How long will it take for me to get it right?
How long must he suffer at our expense?


Be careful how you live, not as unwise, but as wise...Ephesians 5:15

passion: the line between inspiration and alienation

passionate people amaze me;
their single-minded focus, their fervor, their insanity
passionate people stand in line for days for concert tickets,
they cover their bodies in art,
they devote themselves to their cause.

passionate people breathe and live,
sleep and drink,
move and have their being
 molded, shaped, inhabited by their passion.

passionate people are inspiring;
until their passion shifts from inspiration to alienation.
alienation that pits their way of life above all others,
alienation that arrogantly competes and defies all other thinking and being,
alienation from community and unity,
interdependence and harmony.

there is a thin line,
the line of passion,
that can quickly turn affection into indigestion

how to be a person of passion
where persuasion
brings a sharper image,
a better result,
a smoother solution,
a mountain high,
an epic win,
a brilliant combination,
that is remarkable.

difficult leadership decisions

There are moments in leadership when difficult decisions are made, decisions that impact mission or direction or personnel or programs.  Decisions that cannot be fully explained due to professionalism, due to integrity, due to character.

What happens when a leader cannot defend a difficult leadership decision?

It's an incredibly lonely place to be.
It's a difficult place to be.
It's uncomfortable, it's confrontational, it's all-around-adverse.
It's required.
It's necessary.

There is a cost to leading.  The cost is often unknown and unappreciated until the payment is required.
It can cost relationship.  It can feel like betrayal.

Often, it leaves others searching or scratching their heads.  Rumors start.  It gets really messy.  It stems in the need to know why.

And yet, the words of truth, of God tell us that "such things are to lofty for me"
and "what I see now is dim compared to what will be"

There are times in leadership when all things can't be explained,
every detail cannot be made known.
And in those times, trust is everything.

I trust that God will lead in ways I cannot know.
I trust him when I do not understand.
I trust him when things are beyond my tiny mind and my limited reasoning.
I trust him because I don't see the whole picture, I don't have the entire perspective.

Am I a leader that others will follow even when they don't understand?
Am I a leader that others will trust even when it doesn't make sense?
Am I the kind of leader that others support even when I can't paint the entire picture?
When I'm depending on them to support,
be in unity,
team together for the stroke they paint?

I grieve over the times I didn't invest in trust and I tried unsuccessfully to defend.
In the defending I lost so much more that the bragging rights of winning the argument.

Going to hell

Over the years, I've had friends and acquaintances express indifference
about heaven and hell and God and faith.

Often the reply is, "yeah, I know I am going to hell and I'm ok with that."

I experience a range of emotion when I hear that response.  I want to scream and shake them, I want to cry and beg them, I want to eloquently argue against them, I want to change them, wake them up to the flaw, the lie, the deceit they have convinced themselves of.

In a recent study of Jesus' last hours before his crucifixion, he pleaded with God to take the cup of wrath, the oncoming separation from God away from him. Then, Jesus would follow it up with, "but not my will, Lord." Let God's will be done.

So I got to thinking, that Jesus, fully human and completely God, with all the power of the universe, with the strength of all knowledge, and the endurance of eternity, if even he didn't want to go to the depths of hell, why would a mere human choose hell?

Hell in the bible is described as the absence of God.
And God is described as love.
So it stands to reason that hell is a place without God and without love.

And isn't love for, the love of, love itself, the value of living?  Really?  When I unpack all that is good and rewarding and inspiring and joy giving and pleasing in my life it's based, rooted, and grounded in love.

So, about hell.

The place without love.

The place without creation; because creation is an expression of God, an extension of his love.

The place without relationship; because human community was developed out of a relational God who desires community.  He's trinity, Father and Son and Holy Spirit.  He willed and established relationship.  A rescue mission for the state of humanity was constructed through Jesus Christ's perfect sacrifice on the cross.

The place without hope.  Humanity; with all it's emotion, doesn't end once eternity begins.  It's not as if pain and joy and hope and peace and dreams and desires and ambitions end because hell begins.  Hell is a place where human expression has no outlet except weeping and gnashing of teeth.  Imagine feeling the desire, the compelling need for love and the only expression is weeping, sobbing, bawling, distress.  Imagine the desire for food and pleasure, and the only expression is weeping, sobbing, bawling, distress.  Imagine a torture so great that the only mission for relief is death and death cannot come, because the truth is hell is a living, eternal death.

I cannot imagine willfully choosing to be ok with going to hell.  If Jesus, in all his might and power and glory, asked that this sentence through hell and death be lifted and yet he choose it so you and I won't have to go there, why on earth and for all of eternity, would you or I choose it?

The point is we don't have to go to hell.
And the awful truth is that some will choose to go there.
And once the eternal decision is made, it cannot be undone.
The rescue plan through Jesus Christ was offered and it was refused.

It's not as if once eternity begins, you and I will continue to live our life in rebellion toward God here on earth.  That time will pass.
Or that we will be worm food.  We have spirit that doesn't go into the ground.
Or that we will reincarnate as a goat. There is no proof, no logic, no evidence of this.

We will be held accountable, the judgement will happen, and fate will be sealed.

So the question is, "Are you going to hell?"

raising up the next generation

Raising up the next generation starts with one.

A 10 year girl in my ministry completed the SUDS 21-day bible reading, fast, and prayer challenge!  

Here's the story: 

We challenged the kids to consider taking the SUDS 21-day challenge of reading their bible daily, memorizing a verse, fasting from various kid-favorite things to do, and to pray.  SUDS stands for See It,Understand It,  Do It,  and Share It.  See it stands for taking time to read the bible everyday.  Seeing God's word.  Understand means to ask God to show you what the bible means.  Do it encourages kids to do what they read.  And share it means share what you are learning about to others.

I asked this girl why she took on this challenge and she shared that, "I wanted to get closer to God and read my bible more often.  So, I put a reminder on my ipod touch and every day at 3:30, my alarm would go off and instead of reading a chapter book, I'd read my bible on my ipod touch."

What was the hardest part?  I wondered.  

She said giving up candy and sweets.  The SUDS challenge asked kids to give up one fun activity on a rotating basis.  For example, candy/sweets one day, computer games the next.  

Then she shared that this process helped her develop a habit of daily bible reading.  She explains that one day her friend came over and her reminder went off.  She took out the ipod touch and said she needed to read the bible right then and there. Her friend asked her what she was doing.  She explained the challenge.

To keep her going, she'd look at the SUDS calendar to see what she had to give up for each day.  That would help her throughout the day to stay focused.  One day, she reached into the freezer to grab a chocolate covered banana and remembered today was the day to fast from sweets.  So, she choose not to eat the treat.

I asked her to describe what fasting meant to her and she smiled and said, "sacrifice".  She nailed it!

I wanted to know how she would rate her experience;  thumbs up!  thumbs middle?  or thumbs down! 

She said, "thumbs up, it was fun!" and then her ipod touch reminder went off.  The daily reading popped up on the youversion and she shared her verse with me.  "Rejoice in the Lord always, again I say Rejoice!"

It takes one.  One to share.  One to experience.  One to impact.  One ripple.

I pray it will spread!

about prophecy

I have these friends that desire a prophetic word.  They hunger for it, wonder about it, long to see it played out in there lives.

They get excited when they talk about prophecy; faces animated, speech rapid and passion-filled.  Longing to see God at work in their lives, they seek out where God might be speaking.  They research prophecy and follow blogs and posts and writings and proclamations. They are desperate to taste the supernatural, indulge in the spirit, overflow with heaven here on earth.  Their eyes are scanning, their minds analyzing, the hearts searching.

I've heard their discussions, wondered about their journey, and considered their conquest.  I've thought about modern-day prophecy.  Are there prophets today?

As I've wrestled with this, I took the ancient path back to the Old Testament.  The prophets of old were given messages to convey to God's people.  The purpose was sure, the Messiah would come.  Don't loose hope, keep your hearts in tune with God's.  Even when your world is crumbling, even when the temple lies in ruins, even when families are separated, forever torn, and the city is gone, even then, have hope because God's promise is sure and his redemptive plan certain.  Prophecy brought a message of hope.

When I consider my friend's longing for a prophetic word today, I see that we have it.  More than one word, more than one vision, we have many, many words.  We have books of words, we have promises of heaven, we know the end.  

We have the written word of God.  And it's enough.  We needn't add to it, desire more than it, expand upon it.  We will be filled to overflowing by reading and memorizing, following and pursuing what's written in God's word every day of our lives.  

I cannot fathom an assignment greater than this one, a mission more eternal than this one, a purpose more all encompassing than this one.  I simply do not need more.  It will be enough for me to humbly, determinedly, completely strive to follow God's word.  I'll stumble and fall and scrape and stutter with this mission as it is.  I do not need more.

known

so i take this paved path for three miles and mark each mile in my mind.  
the first mile is to the stoplight.  it includes 2 moderate inclines and 2 swampy areas.
it runs along the road and the scenery consists of well groomed lawns, fences marking property, potted flowers and gardens.  it is green and lush and well traveled.


the second mile leads to the school.  it has one rolling hill that stretches my legs. 
homes continue along the way, but these are tucked into woods, with winding ribbon-like driveways to exclusive lakefront property.  it reminds me of the cabins up north and the mystery each bit of woods draws out of me.


the third mile is much more twisting and turning, this final mile to the community center.  my destination provides the achievement of my goal; swiping my card and accruing one more day on my monthly goal of 12 visits to the community center.  in turn, i receive a discount on my membership.  it's cool. then, i return home again, 3 miles the other way.


along the way, i often see waterfowl; mallards and snowy white egrets, Canadian geese and an occasional sand hill crane.  i encounter biker, runner, and dog walker.  countless cars pass by.  its busy and yet i am in my own world.


on sunny days, i know what side of the path casts the best shadow.  i anticipate wind direction and sigh in relief when i alter direction and catch a break from it's bursts.  i know the grade, the incline, and bumps and smooth places along the way.  i smell the lilacs, avoid the piles of dog pooh, feel the warmth of the sun, and fill my lungs with oxygen.  its a great exercise.


this path is well known.  i can easily describe it, tell my favorite parts, grumble about the harder parts, and celebrate the journey.  its comfortable and easy.


as i read about Joshua's journey in the bible, i see these words.  


"Give it everything you have, heart and soul. Make sure you carry out The Revelation that Moses commanded you, every bit of it. Don't get off track, either left or right, so as to make sure you get to where you're going. And don't for a minute let this Book of The Revelation be out of mind. Ponder and meditate on it day and night, making sure you practice everything written in it. Then you'll get where you're going; then you'll succeed." 


ponder. meditate.  practice.  know it.


what if i knew God's word, God's directions, God's command as well as i know the path i take to the community center? what if these words were embedded into my dna at such a level that they changed me? transformed me?  impacted and altered me?  

Casually sorry or sorry to repentance?

You've seen it played out a thousand times....maybe it's been you in the past.  It has definitely been me; its being casually sorry and it looks goes like this.

"Oh, I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to offend."

"I'm sorry I took your baseball glove without asking and it got wet."

"Soooorrrry."

Kids do this, grown ups do this.  We all do this.  That two-word phrase that gets us off the hook.  It's the password for you're free of the issue, the magic phrase for your no longer in trouble.  It's the kind of sorry that changes virtually nothing after it's been spoken.  Odd, isn't it?  "I'm sorry" should change everything. Impact everything.  "I'm sorry" should adjust the course, create a new direction, modify behavior.  I'd call that kind of sorry casually sorry.  It is easy, convenient, maybe briefly uncomfortable, but not life altering. In my mind it's up there with ask for forgiveness after instead of seeking permission first.

But then there is sorry to repentance.  I heard this phrase in a book I read and it landed in my mind like a ton of bricks, staying where it was placed and altering my thinking.  Sorry to repentance means so much more that "I'm sorry(and I'm only saying it to move on).  Sorry to repentance means I have wounded grievously, I have hurt unnecessarily, I have offended deeply and I am sorry and I want to never do this thing again.

How often are we, you and I, sorry to repentance?  How often do we realize that we cut and cause pain with our words?  How often have our behaviors communicated messages of selfishness and pride? How often do we casually toss forgiveness about without weighing it completely?

I believe if we understood the cost forgiveness took to achieve, we'd consider our attitudes and actions much more clearly.

too many choices paralyzes.....

I've never really considered too many choices being a problem, but I see that it is. Too many choices lead to no choice at all. No commitment.

If I don't choose, I'm not responsible.

If I don't commit, I'm not in charge.

If I don't have to sign up, I won't need to participate.

If I don't participate, I won't be accountable.

I can do what I want. No one will know.

Too many choices paralyzes.

To many choices leads to overindulgence.

Too many choices allows for lack of discipline.

The ala carte` living we so happily live yields few results.

What happens when we do commit?

What rewards does it yield?

What lessons does it teach?

Choose summer camp, for example.

There are so many options for summer camp. I like things about each camp, so collectively, if I could create my own camp which would meet the specific needs of each of my individually brilliant children, that would serve me best. So let's see, if I choose camp A, I'll miss out on camp B's benefits. Friends are going to camp C, but I like the opportunities of camp D. So maybe, I'll switch up and not commit to any, or bounce between all of them.

Now consider my commitment to camp E. There are pros and cons, but overall, I think my child will have a great experience. He may have a challenge or too, he may miss out on the cool thing in camp A, or camp B, and so on, but he'll maybe make life long connections with other friends with similar faith and values. And even if he has a struggle here or there, it will be ok, because he'll see God's hand and grow. But maybe that's too hard for me, so I'll make him camp out in the backyard after all. Happy summer camp, son!

We don't have a choice problem, we have a commitment problem.

We don't have an abundance problem, we have a faith problem.

a new day

a new day, different from others

captured in light,

I saw it!

first sighting, 1999, leaving church and driving into the west, the light traced the edge where sky met earth and in my spirit, I knew God was with me, bigger than me, stronger, more, and I was at peace. I was awed.

another sighting, a dawning, an awareness that God was near, the glow around individual persons as they ministered, served, loved, and lived God in there lives.

the brightness comes and goes and at times I blink and wonder what I've seen. It is awe-inspiring. It is awe-some.......

and today, I captured it on my cell. I watched as men of God prayed over a speaker, one called to go and encourage pastors and the light overcame them, so that there individual forms melted into a symphony of light.

It's a new day, and God gave me the eyes to see and I am in awe.

word vs image

imagine stepping into a gallery;

it's empty, white walls cover all four sides of the room,

the floor is white,

the lights are white.

all white.

except one canvas on which

there is a phrase.

a group of words.

a brilliant blue sky

now, you step into the next gallery,

a new room,

it's white walls, white light, white floors expected.

you search each wall,

scanning the perimeter,

anticipating something,

probably a brilliant blue sky.

you're here for art after all,

it's a gallery,

but you find nothing is there.

you move through the exhibition,

thinking,

"this artist is being overpaid,"

or

"this artist is brilliant,

because they are displaying art,

and so far, there's no art."

but, you're curious,

so you step through,

and as you step through,

you visualize a brilliant blue sky,

like that one time,

as a child, when you were 6,

and your family vacationed at the coast,

and the pacific ocean was vivid and vast,

a deep pacific blue that captured shades of indigo

that reminded you of your favorite blue moon ice cream

OR

like that time when you were 15,

and you choose your favorite

sapphire blue color for the prom and you

draped your body in the most luxurious silk dress

that matched your eyes

OR

like that time when you honeymooned

in Italy and you walked the marble blue mosaic stone pathway

leading to the hotel and warmed your soul and fed your heart

and as you walk to the next room,

your mind has created scene after scene of

brilliant blue that you find,

oddly enough,

that you don't need to see a brilliant blue sky on canvas because your mind carries you to places beyond,

from past to present to future

until

you walk into the final gallery

and you see a mural of

a brilliant blue sky

and it's a green meadow.

the sacrifice

Jesus' sacrifice was

so complete,

so final.

His suffering so cruel,

unthinkable

because our sin is so vast.

My sin so vast.

"but it was our sins that did

that to him, that ripped and tore and crushed.

He took the punishment that made us whole.

through his bruises, we get healed...." (adapted, Isaiah 53:1-6, message)

"Jesus knew pain first hand."

and that revelations changes everything.

For what disappointment, what loss, what struggle, what evil do we face that

Jesus hasn't already met, defeated, conquered?

Sin costs.

A sacrifice must be made.

A debt must be paid.

"..it is blood given in exchange for a life that makes purification possible" Lev. 17:11

Jesus came, not as a warrior, not as a master, not as a King, but as a servant.

A servant passed over, looked down on, taken for granted. A servant.

And to serve is the greatest work of all.

To serve even when others don't see, recognize, appreciate, acknowledge.

Even when no one is watching, looking, affirming, or encouraging.

Even when more hate is fueled, and sin rules, and evil overcomes.

Even then.

Especially then.

i think the best

i think the best

part

of

giving

is

eyes-dancing, sparkling,

reflection of the

inner joy and love

of

another

caring, thinking, and loving

always loving

ever loving

a tangible expression of

an intangible, illogical,

breath-taking, spell-binding love

lean in

I sent an e-mail today.

I got a weird response back.

I felt attacked and miss understood.

I wanted to defend, to fight, to explain, to question.....but instead

God wants to me lean in.

Lean in when I feel attacked.

Lean in when I don't understand the response.

Lean in and listen.

Lean in and pray.

It's true that it's the littlest thing that can ignite a fire,

the tiniest moment that can spark an inferno,

and I could've caused a blaze without even knowing it.

As a person of prayer, I need to lean in and pray.

For the next ten minutes, I prayed for every good thing for this person and against every bad thing. I expanded my focus to every good thing that can happen for the organization this person represents and against every bad thing that could befall this organization.

I prayed for my own emotions, releasing the anxiety, the hurt, the worry, the anger of being miss understood, misinterpreted, of miscommunication. I prayed for freedom in Christ, growth in myself, of wisdom and love, of knowledge and hope.

And for good measure, I began to worship.

To be honest, the nest of nerves in my stomach isn't completely gone. But, my mind is no longer reeling and my heart longs to give compassion. The emotions will catch up eventually.

"O God, give me strength to get out of the way.

I want more of you in my life, my work, my e-mails

and less of me. Help me to seek you first in all things,

to ask for repentance quickly, and to be quick to listen.

Help me to lean in when I feel attacked. Help me not

to defend, but in humility, seek you first."

a tiny spark

a tiny spark landed briefly, quietly, brilliantly,

in an otherwise darkened landscape.

I saw it almost accidently, and for a moment I caught my breath, and

a hint of a smile landed purposefully and then it

vanished.

a whisper of hope called tenderly, lovingly,

in a vacuum of desolation and confusion.

I felt it barely, and for a moment I shivered, dreaming

of a new day, and then it was swept away.

a picture of beauty beckoned me softly, stunningly,

in an otherwise blackened night.

I submersed it in briefly, this glimpse of potential,

of possibility, and then it faded away.

as sure as I have life,

it is here,

it can be here,

it will be here,

a redemption

a renewal

a righteousness

so I'll be, for in the being, I see a moment of dawn gleaming through.

and I'll live, in the struggle of it all, for in living, I'm being transformed.

and maybe, just maybe, a little more of

the spark, the hope, and the beauty will shine through.

hearing and obeying

annual traditions. those things you set your sights on, hang your hat on, count on to occur every year. they bring stability, comfort, and sometimes complacency.

traditions. neither right nor wrong, necessarily. a part of the rhythm of life, they can be birthed out of many, many events or customs or histories or emotions.

important, but not more so than obedience. never more than obedience. God delights in our obedience. He requires us to change to Him. And this rises above traditions.

the call came, as it has for several summers past, more than a few and less than ten, the call of invitation. but this time, it was different. i received orders that surprised me. in my spirit, i knew that when the call was to come, if it came, that i was to say no.

no.

simply no.

no real, tangible, hang-your-hat-on-kind-of-reason.

just no.

and when pushed, if pushed, to believe that God's plans are not mine. His ways are not my ways. and really, i don't know why, but it's not this summer.

so i think of three things; someone else gets the pleasure, the joy, the challenge, and the opportunity. or, God has something else in mind for me. or, i won't ever know, but it's not for me. this year. this time.

and how can i be sure i heard right? I understand God's voice speaking to me in a stirring of my heart and an understanding in my mind. It's often a thought completely out of the context of my inner dialogue and it comes out of no where. It's a warning, a gut-check, and premonition, it's something that aligns with the Bible and could be confirmed with others in community. and once spoken aloud to another, it's a matter of integrity and character that i obey.

i'll decline.

i'll wonder, watch, and pray.

and i'll wait.

..."plans prepared for you even before you were born"........

lighted Christmas houses

so i've got this story to tell, it's been a while since I've thought of it but my last post prompted it back to the forefront.

in the early days of engagement, when gifts were coming in, I received a Charles Dickens Era house, it was the old church, and it looked a lot like the church of my youth.

It was a gift like no other.

delighted, I ohhed and ahhed over this house. It was the start of a collection for me

and a new dream was forming. One of enchanting displays of Christmas pleasure and fun.

as the wedding day came, I received a few other houses for the collection.

as holidays such a birthdays and Christmas arrived, more houses were added.

and then the addiction came. I wanted more houses for my collection.

And so, when new pieces were created and promoted, I would ask or buy or dream about them. I bought them as I could, and I used money I did not have.

and as the year's past and children were added to the family, my collection had grown obnoxious. I had neither room to store, nor room to display my vast holdings. Squished into a two bedroom apartment with two children, I knew I was in trouble. Debt filled my conscience and lighted Christmas houses filled my closet. I was ashamed and embarrassed and I felt so foolish.

and so in a panic, a prayer, and a rage, I packed every last piece of the over 75 houses in my trunk, not to mention the tens of figurines, lights, and decorations to enhance the display, and I drove to goodwill.

it was july.

that was a problem.

goodwill doesn't take christmas in july. truly.

mortified, haunted, and on mission, I drove to a mentor's house.

she wasn't home. truly.

I called. She didn't answer.

feeling desparate, I returned to the dumpster at my apartment complex and one by one, with the two preschoolers hanging in the car, I threw piece by precious, perfect piece into the trash. And as I threw them, I shouted and cried and proclaimed that I loved God more than I loved each house.

I just want you

God,

I want you more than I want to be understood.

I want you more than I want to be accepted.

I want you more than food to eat, pretty clothes to wear,

a comfortable home, or a warm bed for sleep.

God,

I want you more than I want friendships and success,

more than the need to be right, the need for respect,

more than accolades, more than awards, more than blessings.

God,

I want you more than influence and identity,

more than independence and prosperity.

God,

I just want you.

character building

How come building my character is so difficult?

How come learning to love people is so hard?

How come pursuing God is confusing and elusive?

All the good stuff; perseverance, strength, experience, maturity, loving well, being on mission...all that stuff often comes through firing and burning and suffering and struggling.

And all this stuff rarely sees an audience, experiences the light of day, is honored among us.

If you suffer, at least people don't want to be near and at most blame you for the suffering.

If you fail at loving others, people judge and criticize and scoff.

If you pursue God in your life, it may lead you far away from family and community and like-mindedness and ease.

It's back to digging ditches and being weak and needing God's strength ever minute of ever day.

It's messy and unending and pitchy and off the beaten path.

It's counting to ten and holding my tongue and praying and praying and praying

and watching and reading, observing and refining,

it's character building

the death of independence leads to life

Independence leads to self sufficiency leads to control

The death of independence leads to life...check this out:

if we didn't have the poor,

we wouldn't give

if we didn't hurt,

we wouldn't experience wholeness

if we didn't risk,

we wouldn't accomplish

if we didn't seek to learn,

we wouldn't grow

if we didn't hunger,

we wouldn't celebrate the feast

if we didn't fail,

we wouldn't know the beauty of success

if we weren't broken,

we wouldn't need healing

if we weren't sin-filled,

we wouldn't need a savior.

experiencing life to it's fullest, it's most abundant encompasses poverty and blessings, hurting and being whole, risking and accomplishing, fasting and feasting, failing and success, breaking and healing, sinning and saving.

We need Jesus. We can't do this alone.

better than the best dream

"I came so they can have real and eternal life,

more and better life than they ever dreamed of."

what's your best dream?

is it unlimited wealth?

unprecedented access?

unquestionable leadership?

unexpected knowledge and wisdom?

is it enviable talent?

incomparable beauty?

is it youthful vigor?

athletic finesse?

what drives you to be better?

what holds you back?

there is a verse that says,

"I came so they can have real and eternal life,

more and better life than they ever dreamed of."

with precision and grace, Jesus speaks these words.

with love and knowledge, he proclaims this promise.

this, that could shape and mold and form and create

better than the best dream we could dream.

this, that cuts to the heart,

the arrow that hits the target,

the brilliance that dissipates the fog

it's available. it's active. it's real.

do you and I seek abundant life?

do we want it?

It will cost everything.