Monthly Archives: April 2008

42 years of my journey

42 years of my journey

April 10th…It’s my birthday, and I’ll indulge if I want to…

42 little known facts about me on my birthday…as seen through the eyes of those who know me best and love me the most.

from mom & dad…

1. Elaine was born April 10, Easter Day. And from that day on, she has exemplified a ‘resurrected life.’

2. When she came home from the hospital, her year-old sister threw a ball into her crib and it bounced off her head. That was an omen of things to come with those two girls.

3. Her first nickname was “Chuckina”, given by Linda Aaron, her kindergarten teacher because she acted like her father, Charles.

4. All her teachers loved to have her in class. They said it was her personality, her generosity, and her passion for even the smallest of things.

5. As a youth, she went to the Wilmore Camp. I had to take two truck loads of furniture and supplies for her needs. It was at camp that she had the first of several conversions.

6. Elaine took piano lessons and it paid off. I still have her Thompson books, and now I am starting to play, beginning with Book I. The first lesson is dated January – 1974. Elaine was 8. Kind of neat…dad playing the same music.

7. The nightly ritual was tucking her in bed, saying our prayers out loud, leaving the night light on, and leaving the door ajar. All of these had to be done in order; it not, they had to be done over.

8. She was always getting into trouble, especially in Band, with her friend Gayle. They drove their director crazy. They both played the sax, each altering between seat 1 and 2, by their devious design.

9. In children’s choir, she gave the impression that she was the director—making sure everyone was lined up properly, much to the chagrin of her parents and the choir director.

10. Her ‘CBS productions’ and her neighborhood dramas, were a sight to behold. Invitations were hand-delivered to the neighbors and props were gathered and set up in the yard or den. Of course, Elaine was the director.

11. She loved the tape recorder and was reluctant to relinquish it.

12. She loved to make up her own dances and entertain us with her singing, dancing and imitations of performers. Her rendition of “Elvira” with a broom as her mike is priceless.

13. One day she came into the house, crying, telling me that the neighbor girls made fun of her, wouldn’t play with her, and that they were mean. I told her to go out there and love them. She said, “Okay.” In about two minutes she was back, crying again and telling me, “Daddy, it won’t work.”

14. Elaine usually had ‘bad hair’ days because she had problem hair. Cowlicks and crowns all over her head. We tried everything, but for years her hair was short and manageable only when given a dose of “Dippity Doo”.

15. One day, in a restaurant, the waitress looked at me and asked, “What does he want to eat?” She’s never quite recovered from her mistaken identity as a boy.

16. As a toddler, Elaine was docile. During morning worship, she slept soundly in a room adjoining the platform and choir loft while anthems soared and her dad preached.

17. She was slow to walk–we finally resorted to a walker when she was 15 months old, and she mastered the fine art in no time. Hard to imagine, when she hasn’t been still since and runs for exercise almost daily.

18. She had a high need for stories to have a happy ending. If the story line did not wrap up all the loose ends, she persisted with the question, “Well, what do you think happened?” until we gave her a probable “rest of the story.” Her need for order and predictability have been both bane and blessing to her, I am sure.

19. As a child she was compassionate to the point of pain when life was unfair to others or they were suffering from illness or heartache. She still practically wears a sign that says, “Tell me your troubles and I’ll cry with you!”

20. At about 6 years old, she packed her suitcase and went to Jennifer’s for a sleepover, but within two hours was brought home in her jammies, unable to handle the trauma of homesickness.

21. She has always been able to strike up a conversation with most anyone, from folks standing in a checkout line to passengers on a plane, to servers in a restaurant—having a natural interest and curiosity which, in her childhood, was often a source of embarrassment to her more reserved family members.

Still awake?

from my kids…

22. Mom likes to sing and dance to Christian music while she’s driving. (N)

23. Mom is passionate. (N)

24. My mom is the only one I know who buys Christmas presents for herself and leaves them wrapped under the tree as a surprise. Like we don’t know where they came from! (C)

25. My mom leaves a broom by her bed so she can hit the ceiling when my brother and me get too loud. She used to climb on the bed and pound. I guess this is easier. (C)

26. My mom…hmmm…she’s perfectly fine for me. (J)

27. My mom likes to watch “Deal or No Deal” with me. (J)

28. My mom is the Queen. I am the princess. (A)

29. My mom loves to hug me. (A)

from my husband…

30. When out to eat, Elaine will use almost anything as a toothpick if no real ones are available.

31. Elaine is cold natured…blanket, socks, and bed slippers year round.

32. Elaine sleeps in a “nest” of five different pillows that she assembles every night.

33. Elaine has a “Beth Moore” closet where she houses her Bible study materials.

34. Elaine has composed several songs for our children, the best being the “Little Green Frog” song.

35. The first story Elaine ever read to me was her “Shed Heart” story.

and finally from me…

36. Baths over showers.

37. Diet Coke over coffee.

38. Chocolate over just about anything.

39. Fall & Winter over Spring & Summer.

40. Writing over reading & talking & watching.

41. People over possessions.

42. God over everything!

And one to grow on…

I have a favorite song that puts voice to the earnest and most sincere plea of my heart on this, my 42nd birthday. A prayer to the Creator and the Sustainer of my life.
Thanks for indulging me!
~elaine
Carrying Our Pretty With Us

Carrying Our Pretty With Us

“But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all surpassing power is from God and not from us. … We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body.” (2 Corinthians 4:7-10).


He slipped back in the house yesterday morning to show me something. His forgetfulness.

Carelessly and without thought, he picked up his “pretty case” instead of his briefcase as he headed out the door for work. We had a good laugh, and then I had him re-enact his folly for my camera. Some pictures are worth the ink. This was one of them, and it got me to thinking.

Thinking about his caddy full of pretty…

Shaving cream. Razors. Mouthwash. Toothpaste. Lotion. Comb. Floss. Deodorant. Matrix Biolage hair gel. Yes, even my husband carries some “product” for his pretty.

Thinking about what he left behind—the one thing that normally accompanies him to the church office…

His Bible.

Somehow in his process of readying himself for the day, he reached for the ordinary to the exclusion of the extraordinary, and quite frankly, he felt exposed. Naked. Something not quite right as he stood at the edge of new day to embark upon the calling that has claimed his life.

A calling that values “heart product” over “pretty product.”

And a heart can never be prettied by creams and combs. It requires a deeper work…a stronger “product.” The cleansing work of the cross.

As believers in Jesus Christ, we have been given a rare privilege. We have been designated as the dwelling place of our Father. How precious is this Treasure. How fragile its frame. God designed us to be exactly so…as dusty earthen vessels, the contents of which contain more pretty than the world can fully absorb at first glance.

He is what makes us pretty. Not our outward attempts at fortifying the frame. He applauds and even celebrates our efforts at presentation, but when the day is over and the “pretty” has run its course, he ponders the condition of the heart that remains. The heart that contains his heart. The heart that will follow us into our tomorrow and into the day after that and into all of our days yet to come.

After awhile, our pretty wears thin and no amount of “product” can cover up the heart that lies beneath. We can try to conceal its pulse, but eventually our fragile clay begins to crumble to reveal the contents within. What pours forth…Who pours forth…is revealed by the light, and we stand as naked. Before God and before man. Exposed.

An untouched photograph that discloses our truth.

And the truth that God values more than our outward “pretty” is the inward product called grace. It is the one boasting allowed our mirrors. The one treasure allowed our fragile frames. The one Gospel allowed our lips. It is the only “heart product” that never wears thin and keeps its beauty long after the lights have dimmed and the world has gone home to find its rest.

Jesus is our “pretty” and Calvary’s accomplishing work is our calling. We are given the privilege of hosting its grace…every day. Within our clay parameters that were not meant for the applause of man, but, instead, meant for the breaking of a revealed radiance and a surpassing power that was never designed for containment. A carried treasure that, sometimes, is forgotten and covered up by our attempts at “pretty.”

I don’t about you, but I think that this has been a picture worthy of some ink…worthy of some words, and worthy of some further pondering as we prepare our hearts for exposure. God, alone, is worthy of a heart’s review. Man’s opinion is always flawed and often fatal. In the end, God’s opinion is always perfect and stands as final. And final sounds perfect to me, so this day I cast my heart before its Maker, and I ask him to make it–to make me–pretty.

Not for man, but for him. And so I pray…

Heal my heart, Lord, and make it pretty for you. Cleanse me from within, so that the radiance of your grace shines forth from the mirror of this face. Forgive my attempts at cover-up, and eliminate my desire for the same. I want to be a true portrait of your Gospel, and so I ask for you to cover me with the truth of Calvary’s gift. Let my beauty be birthed because of the cross. Not as I stand in front of the cross, but a beauty that finds its depth beneath and behind the cleansing blood of your surrender. You gave your Son to death’s embrace to make me pretty. Thank you for allowing such sacred beauty to be house within my clay. Humbly and with holy trembling, I carry my portion. Amen.

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A Cradled Surrender

“I declare to you, brothers, that flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable. … When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: ‘Death has been swallowed up in victory.’ ‘Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?’” (1 Corinthians 15:50, 54-55).
Momma, does it hurt to die?

Yes, baby, I think it probably does.

Why?

Because anytime something in us dies, we hurt.

Why do we have to die?

Because our flesh is the one thing that is keeping us from living with God, face to face.

But I don’t want to die, mommy. I don’t want to hurt.

I know baby. I know. But you will grow in your understanding, and one day your tears won’t taste so sad…

I cradled her in my arms as tears enveloped her tender cheeks. I understand her question. It is one that caught my attention when I was her age. It has kept me wondering ever since.

We are having a lot of these discussions lately. Heart talks. Talks about the indwelling presence of God within our flesh. It has taken on greater meaning for my five-year-old daughter because two weeks ago, she asked Jesus into her heart. On Good Friday. A perfect day for such a sacred embrace.

We knelt beside my bed where she offered her Creator the greatest summons of her heart. An invitation for him to come and to take up residency within her fragile frame. A decision that will profoundly affect the rest of her days.

Some would say that she is too young…too limited in her understanding to make such an important decision. I would say that her tender youth is the perfect beginning for her understanding of all things sacred. Her mind and her heart are fertile soil for her Father’s tilling, and the seeds that are sown in this season, will grow into full bloom in a season yet to come.

I cannot deny my daughter the gift of her salvation…no matter what others might reason. My God is an unreasonable God. An unfathomable, mysterious, yet attainable Savior, made available to all…especially to those whose faith is simple and is not yet overly tainted by carnal perspective.

So when these questions come up…questions about life and death and the surrender that exists between the two, I tell my daughter what I know to be true. Truths like…

This life is but a breath. God has determined her days. (Psalm 39:4-5).

Every step in her journey of faith will be filled with moments of surrender. Times when she will experience the pain of the “letting go” of her flesh so that she can fully live as her Father intended for her to live. (Romans 8:12-18).

Following Christ means embracing the cross, and the cross always requires a difficult obedience. (Matthew 16:24-26).

The sting of death has been swallowed up through the salve of Calvary’s victory. (1 Corinthians 15:50-54).

The One who awaits her on the other side of her surrender will be worth her every tear. (Philippians 3:7-11).

When her time on this earth is over, she will not walk her final steps alone. Her Father will come and usher her feet into her “next.” A “next” prepared for her by the nail-scarred hands of her Groom. (John 14:1-4).

Her tears are meant for this side of eternity, and her Father holds the Kleenex for her final cry of surrender. (Revelation 7:17; 20:4).

Truths like that. Not made up answers to soothe a daughter’s fears, but real truth as contained within God’s Word. And God’s Word is always true and will be the guiding light to grow her in her understanding of the Savior who now abides within her heart.

The truth is…death hurts for all of us. Until we surrender our last bit of flesh to its embrace, we never really live as our Father intends for us to live. And our God means for us to live. Abundantly. Fearlessly. Faithfully, and thoroughly. Within the boundaries of his abiding grace.

When I was my daughter’s age, I, too, began my walk of grace. Over the years, I have grown in my understanding of its mystery. I have needed its depth. Long and wide and high and deep. Indeed, God’s arms of grace have extended beyond the reach of Calvary to embrace me in seasons when my tears of surrender nearly drowned out my resolve for the process.

His arms still reach, and when I come to my moments of a deeper submission—moments of a difficult dying—like my daughter, I bring my tears to my Daddy and ask him this question.

Why do I have to die? Why does it hurt so much to die?

Like I did with my daughter, my Father cradles me in his love and whispers his truth into my painful why’s.

I know child. I know you have questions, and I know you hurt. But you will grow in your understanding of all things sacred, and one day soon, your tears won’t taste so sad.

I don’t want to be sad about my surrenders. I don’t want my daughter to cry about the envisioned pain she is soon to encounter. But I am sad and she does cry, and through our tears our Father’s cradling words are salve enough to soothe our dying aches. For he is well familiar with the dying process. It is what he came to do. To model for us a death’s embrace and to rise victoriously over its hellish sting. He did, and so we can. Thus, I pray…

Father, you have conquered the sting of death, and while I don’t wish for its embrace, I willingly accept its grip because I know that it is bringing me one step closer to complete intimacy with you…heart to heart…face to face. For all of the “deaths” that are required of me in the flesh, they are nothing compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing You. They are life. They are gain. Keep me to my surrendered cross, and keep me to your truth so that I am equipped to lead others to do the same. Especially one little girl who needs to grow in her understanding of all things sacred, and one big girl who needs to follow her lead. Amen.

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a well worn Truth

a well worn Truth

“Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly…”. (Colossians 3:16a)

My Bible is a mess. Literally. Its cover is worn and creased. The binding is loose. Pages scatter with the touch. My name’s engraving has faded. Scriptures are marked and highlighted, underlined and scribbled with thoughts. Scraps of paper serve as bookmarks, and the glittering gold that once framed each page, now colors a dull beige. It companions my steps to church, to Sunday school, to Bible study, and to every retreat/event that boasts the name of Jesus.

A well worn Truth. Dearly loved and cherished. A gift given to me by my Bible study gals almost four years ago.

I wanted a new Bible. A study Bible that offered notes, cross references, and a concordance to aid my desire for a deeper exploration of God’s Word. At the conclusion of our first study together entitled Jesus, the One and Only, the girls honored my leadership by gifting me with a generous donation to be used at my discretion. “Mad money” they called it. “Jesus money” I called it. As quickly as it entered my hands, it exited, providing myself and my sons with new Bibles for Christmas.

It was difficult to surrender my old Bible—my companion for nearly twenty-five years. No study notes. No cross references. No concordance. Simply a Bible given to me by my parents on my fourteenth birthday. A Bible with a cover that remains secure. With a binding and pages that still firmly attach. With little underlining and even less highlighting. A Bible that continues to glitter from its frame of gold. A Bible that, on most occasions, stayed on the shelf while I pursued life.

Two Bibles. Two seasons of living. Two hearts for the handling of its Truth. And therein lies the contrast.

Perhaps the publishers manufactured a sturdier Bible back in 1980. My new Bible is bigger and contains more pages than the older version. Maybe this is the reason for its quicker demise. But I have this lingering thought that, possibly, I am the reason for its premature aging.

My heart is not the same as it was in 1980. My passion for the study of scripture was non-existent back then. That all changed five years ago. I had a head on collision with God’s Word through a community Bible study. Like John Wesley, I felt my heart “strangely warmed” for the things of God. I have spent the last five years stoking that fire and feeling the effects of God’s flames as they reach deep within to purify and to refine.

The more I study my Bible, the more I feel its heat. And somewhere within the blaze, I hear the whisper of my Refiner say…

As it should be, my child. As it should be. My Word is a well worn Truth and should…

Be handled. “Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a workman who does not need to be ashamed and who correctly handles the word of truth.” (2 Timothy 2:19).

Be used. “When Moses finished reciting all these words to all Israel, he said to them, ‘Take to heart all the words I have solemnly declared to you this day, so that you may command your children to obey carefully all the words of this law. They are not just idle words for you—they are your life. By them you will live long in the land you are crossing the Jordan to possess.’” (Deuteronomy 32:45-47).

Be consulted. “If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him.” (James 1:5).

Be loosed and unbounded. “‘As the rain and snow come down from heaven and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.’” (Isaiah 55:10-11).

Be the Name above all names. “‘He must become greater; I must become less.’” (John 3:30).

Be highlighted. “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path.” (Psalm 119:105).

Be faded around the edges. “But the Lord said to Samuel, ‘Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.’” (1 Samuel 16:7).

Be carried. “‘Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit…’”. (Matthew 28:19).

God means for our Bibles to be a mess. For them to fall apart so that the Truth within spills forth. On us. In us. All around us. A kindling blaze that burns with the intensity of its Author, whose whisper rises above the ashes to herald…

As it should be, my child. As it should be.

I am at a loss as how to best provide my Bible with the TLC that it needs to carry me through another season of living. I am not ready for its surrender. But I am ready for the well worn Truth of its pages to be released upon the soil of my current. To bring light and flame to those who have been content to pursue life without Truth. To widely scatter my holy “mess”—handled and used, highlighted and loosed—so that others might have a head on collision with the One and only God and the magnificent treasure of his Word. And so I pray…

Keep your Word, Lord, alive and active in my heart through the pages of my well-worn Bible. Keep me to my studying, to my memorizing and to my living out the Truth of your precepts. Burn your words deeply into my heart, and refine me with the fire of your Calvary’s love. And when my Bible can no longer bear the marks of my pursuit, give me the grace to let it go. Until then, I am well- pleased to carry it close to my heart…a well-worn Truth. Truth…

as it should be. Amen.

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