Category Archives: a quick word

A Better Thinking

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” (Philippians 4:6-8).

As Christians, there are some things that we should think about—things worthy of our time and attention and ponderous attention. There are also some things not worthy of our heart’s pause—things that walk contrary to a life that is controlled by and rooted in the Spirit of the living God.

Contrary things walk contrary and breed inconsistencies into the life of a believer. We are forced to grapple with the issue everyday as we seek to live out the tenets of our faith. If not carefully guarded, our hearts become the fertile soil for some seeds that were never meant for the rooting therein.

I know.

Today I host some “bitter seeds,” and I’m confident that bitter doesn’t fall within the “true” and “noble” of Paul’s mindful checklist. Thus, I’m praying the truth of scripture over my wandering thoughts, desiring for God’s peace to be my portion. Always, God’s peace … for the journey.

That’s the heart behind this blog. To give readers an occasion to “pause from the ordinary in order to partake of the Extraordinary.” Peace isn’t an emotion or a temporary state of being. Peace is a person. His name is Jesus, and he intends to be our constant … our Way of doing life, most days in spite of the ebb and flow that works itself into our 24/7.

The “anxious and everything” will always find us. Yours may not look like mine today, but I imagine it to be present. If not in full blown status, then simmering somewhere just beneath the surface of your emotional stable. All of us are but one crisis away from having it voice its loud and its proud into our calm.

Your crisis may not be a huge thing; to the rest of the world, it may seem small and insignificant, but the rest of the world doesn’t live in your world. Your world hosts some tailor made “anxious and everything,” specifically designed to trip your triggers and to expedite your fall accordingly. Instead of recognizing those triggers and bypassing the danger, we allow them their bruising over our lives.

Instead of offering up our prayers and petitions to the only One who can bring peace to our “anxious and everything,” we offer up our own variety of solutions to soothe the ache.

Instead of truth … lies.
Instead of noble … improper.
Instead of right … wrong.
Instead of pure … profane.
Instead of lovely … hateful.
Instead of admirable … defaming.
Instead of excellent … evil.
Instead of praiseworthy … punishment.

Thus, the contrast to Philippians 4:8 …

Whatever is a lie, whatever is improper, whatever is wrong, whatever is profane, whatever is hateful, whatever is defaming, if anything is evil and rife with punishment, think upon such things.[i]

No wonder our worry; no wonder our anxious. No wonder our need to bring everything out into the light and to the foot of the cross for the soothing comfort of a better Peace. Whenever we default to our own solutions of managing the crises that come our way, we are left to the mercy of a depraved mind tilted in the wrong direction and mired in the murky waters of corruptible thinking.

God’s Peace isn’t anchored in that soil. He walked that soil for a season and on our behalf so that our feet wouldn’t have to make the journey. Still and yet, there are days when we choose to marshal our steps along that path, and instead of finding God’s promised Peace, we fuel our “anxious and everything” until it becomes the unmanageable cloaking of our hearts.

It’s a heavy mantle to carry, friends, and a weighing down that I don’t need today; thus, I’m going to take God at his Word, and bring my prayers and petitions to the foot of the cross and leave them there…

*knowing that I’ve been heard.
*believing that my words are kept and held and tended to by the extravagant grace of heaven.
*receiving the Peace that I’ve been promised.

Knowing. Believing. Receiving.

The posture of an uncluttered heart. The hope of this expectant pilgrim. Thus, I pray…

Unclutter me, Father, as I bring it all to your hands and to your understanding this day. I do not want to linger in my bitter and in my confusion. Instead, I give them to you, and ask you to work your will into my way of thinking. Forgive me for trying to manage this one out on my own; instead, teach me to trust you with my “anxious and everything” all the days of my life. You’ve given me your Peace; let my lingering thoughts rest in such a holding today. Amen.

[i] Antithesis based on word study search from The Complete Word Study Dictionary New Testament (Chattannoga: AMG Publishers, 1992).
Copyright © March 2009 – Elaine Olsen

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A Quick Word from the Bench…

A Quick Word from the Bench…

“When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, ‘Put out into deep water, and let down the nets for a catch.’ Simon answered, ‘Master, we’ve worked hard al night and haven’t caught anything. But because you say so, I will let down the nets.’” (Luke 5:4-5).


I just returned from our church’s Ash Wednesday service. My husband used this passage from the Gospel of Luke as the scripture focus for his brief, albeit powerful meditation. And while I didn’t intend to come “off the bench” this week with my words and my sweat accordingly, I must at least come into the midst of our huddle and offer you a thought—a word that struck me profoundly and pointedly at the moment of its hearing.

Could it be enough to simply obey the voice of the Master because he “says so?” Could his “say so” be as much as we’ll ever need to warrant our “because you said so” in all our many matters? Whether it be…

To cast our nets into deep waters because he says so.
To anchor our boats in the harbor and to follow because he says so.
To walk a top the raging seas because he says so.
To be prepared in season and out with an answer because he says so.
To feed the 5000 because he says so.
To embrace the least of these because he says so.
To carry our cross because he says so.
To feed his sheep because he says so.
To wash feet because he says so.
To love because he says so.
To pray about everything because he says so.
To go into all the world because he says so.
To _______________________ simply and profoundly because he says so.

Isn’t his “saying so” a worthy enough word to necessitate our awe and our immediate obedience?

It should be.

God’s words via his Word are life and breath and the stuff of eternal and lasting significance. And if for some reason in this season of beginning pilgrimage to the cross where God made good on his word once and for all, if you’re choosing the words of man over the words of God, then you have chosen less. You’ve obeyed the cravings of your sinful flesh, and your life and heart will be found wanting at the end of the day.

At the end of this life.

You will walk to the grave missing out on the deepest catch of your sacred and intended purpose, and you will forsake the overflowing grace of God’s intended sacrifice that was always meant for your keeping. And to miss that, friends, all because his “saying so” isn’t good enough to yield our “doing so,” is to miss everything.

Let it not be so my fellow pilgrims. Instead, let us willingly concede our wills, our wants and our words, to the One whose word never fails, is always true, and is guaranteed to lead us home into safe harbor where the unseen faith and trust of our “now” gives way to the sights and the splendor of our “next.”

It’s enough for me; I pray it enough for you.

Thanks for the huddle time, my good and kind readers. May God be with each one of you as you take up your cross this Lenten season and carry it all the way to Calvary. He is so worthy of the climb. As always,

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Sought After

“You will be a crown of splendor in the LORD’s hand, a royal diadem in the hand of your God. No longer will they call you Deserted, or name your land Desolate. But you will be called Hephzibah, and your land Beulah; for the LORD will take delight in you, and your land will be married. (Isaiah 62:3-4).

High school and I were an awkward fit. In fact, I hated most every minute of the three years that I spent walking its hallways and trying my best to make sense of the nonsense. I wasn’t popular. I wasn’t stunning. I wasn’t a cheerleader. I wasn’t asked out on dates. In fact, to me it seemed as if I wasn’t much of anything, except…

forgotten … deserted.

The friends of my younger days had long since traded me in for a newer model, and my teachers? Well, there were a few who noticed my worth, but a majority of them never even knew my name. Thus, it was no surprise to me that when I graduated a year early, it came and went with little fanfare.

For me, my high school years were a detrimental season of living—shaping years that, unfortunately, left my already fragile self-esteem in further ruin. Accordingly, I couldn’t wait to break free.

Starting college at seventeen was a good decision. I chose to attend a school in my hometown, and from the moment that my feet hit the campus of Asbury College, I knew that my heart had finally found its home.

College was the fertile soil of my becoming—of my beginning to break free from the chains that had followed me down those painful hallways of high school. I fit, and for the first time in my life, I began to see myself as someone more than the scared little girl who had always felt deserted.

I had friends and dates and professors who, not only called me by name, but who also came to expect my leadership in the classroom. After a first semester of academic adjustment, my grades soared toward excellence and landed me with honors by the time graduation rolled around. In addition to my cherished diploma, I had an engagement ring on my finger.

I was on my way to becoming a preacher’s wife and an elementary school teacher in short order. No more painful high school hallways for me. Being deserted was no longer my issue … at least not for a season. But as all issues go, unless dealt with by the illuminating and healing presence of God’s love, they tend to resurface at unsuspecting times.

Mine would reappear on occasion and became more frequent as my marriage began to unravel. After seven years of being a wife and a mother to two young sons, my feelings of worthlessness barked their insistence over my soul, and I found myself, once again, returning to the familiar hallways of my adolescence.

It would take a long season of painful recollection and deliberate intention to free me from my feelings of being forgotten. Thankfully at age forty-two, I’m finally getting close.

(ages 17, 21, 42)
God in his mercy and through his far-reaching love has kept me on the path of recovery and rediscovery. My identity is no longer shaped by the hallways of my youth or by the divorce that forced me to grapple with my worthiness as it pertains to God and his kingdom agenda. Today I walk in the grace that was mandated for me long before my sin required its covering.

Accordingly, I know longer feel deserted; my Father and the cross of his Son made sure of that.

“The LORD has made a proclamation to the ends of the earth; ‘Say to the Daughter of Zion, “See, his reward is with him, and his recompense accompanies him.”’ They will be called the Holy People, the Redeemed of the LORD; and you will be called Sought After, the City No Longer Deserted.” (Isaiah 62:11-12).

Today, I walk in the freedom of a new name. Many still know me as elaine. But my Father? Well, he knows me by a few others.

*Sought After.
*City No Longer Deserted.
*Hephzibah meaning “my delight.”
*Beulah meaning “married.”

Not a bad trade for the deserted and desolate of my youth?

I don’t know how this strikes you today. I’m not even quite sure as to the reason for the penning of my words. But I have a thought that, perhaps, there is someone out there who needs the truth of a new name this night. Maybe the hallways of your adolescence … maybe even those of your most recent … are plaguing your thoughts with feelings of being forgotten, unloved and unnecessary. I understand.

I’m not so far along in my faith journey that I don’t occasionally revisit those names. The enemy would like nothing more than to keep us trapped in the lie of such an identification. But the truth is…

Our Jesus didn’t go all the way to hell and back to leave us as we are. Instead, He made the journey in order to bring us home as his bride. We are the sought after delight of our God. Never forgotten. Never deserted. Never unloved and never unnecessary. And that, sweet friends, has always been and will continue to be the most sacred and deliberate intention of our Father’s heart—

to be the Lover of ours.

Won’t you allow him his turn to bathe you in the truth of what you’ve always meant to him? He is so worthy of your pause. Mine, too. Thus I pray…

Show me, Father, your love. Teach me what it means to be your bride … your delight … your sought after and prized possession. My youthful shapings and my adult rebellions have kept me from knowing the full depth of my identity in You. Replace the sting of feeling deserted with the truth of your deliberate pursuit of my heart. Thank you for holding onto my fragile estate all of these years and for continuing to remind me of my sacred worth in You. And when I am tempted to revisit those hallways of my long ago and faraway, turn my thoughts toward my “soon to be” and my “ever so close.” I love you, Father. Thank you for taking me as your bride. Amen.

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Why I Loved My Day…

“From the rising of the sun unto the going down of the same the Lord’s name is to be praised.” (Psalm 113:3).

It’s nearly a new day.

Nearly.

Before I say good-bye to January 30, 2009, I wanted you know that I loved it … this day given to me simply because God’s grace allowed it.

By his breath, he has sustained me and measured my steps accordingly. Not because he had to, but rather because he delights in giving good gifts to his children. And while every day should be chronicled with my glad tidings and thankful cheer, most of them slip by without notice and without applause.

I should do better with my gratitude. Not because I have to, but rather because it is my privilege to do so. Thus, allow me a moment to tell you what I loved most about this day.

    • It wasn’t the trip to Raleigh to pick up the “Esther” books at the Lifeway store or the new Meredith Andrews CD that I managed to sneak into the pile at the check-out counter.
    • It wasn’t the extra visit to Kohl’s where I was able to pick up a good bargain on a black jacket.

 

    • It wasn’t the stop at Andy’s on the way back into town for the $4.99 cheeseburger special, complete with crispy fries and a diet coke.
    • It wasn’t the trip to Wilson to watch my senior son play basketball, although he did make my heart skip a beat or two.

 

    • It wasn’t the Parker’s barbeque or the accompanying hush puppies while on my way to Wilson.

 

  • It wasn’t even the return of my college-age son who’s been MIA for three weeks now, although he’s always a good punctuation to a weary week.

No, the best part of my day wasn’t measured by the doing and partaking of all these things. Indeed, they were good, and I loved them each one. But what made them even better, what made them cause me to sit back and find a moment or two or even ten of thankful pause, was the fact that I shared them all with the man I call husband. The man who took my hand a season back, along with the hands of my two young sons, and promised to take care of us all of the days of his life and ours.

It’s not our anniversary. Today is not a day of any calendared significance in the lives of Billy and Elaine. It was simply a day that we shared with one another, rather than living our separate identities as is so often the case.

We laughed together. We walked together. We ate together. We worshipped God together with our new CD’s. We cheered together. We even yelled at the game officials together. We rode home together. We close this day together.

Together is a good way to spend a day. It’s a good way to love a day. It’s not always been the way I walk my days, but today? Well, today I did better at loving and at being in love. Today I stepped in rhythm with the man who’s been keeping pace with me for nearly twelve years now.

Not because he has to, but rather because he delights in being God’s good and gracious gift to me.

I didn’t deserve his love. There are times when I’m most confident that he doesn’t deserve mine. Still and yet, we choose to do love … to live love … to fight for our love because we love the life that God has given us together.

Indeed, I am a blessed woman who loved her day. I hope you loved yours. If not, there’s still time. Another day rests within your reach. Find someone you love and do some doing together. Let not today slip by without your notice or without the applause of your gratitude. This is the day that our God has made for you. He’s entrusted you with its unfolding.

Live it well. Love it better. And do it all in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. It is your sacred privilege to do so.

As always,

~elaine

 

Benedictions

Benedictions

“Now may the Lord of peace himself give you peace at all times and in every way. The Lord be with all of you.” (2 Thessalonians 3:16).

The call came in just a few minutes ago. 7:48 AM, per usual. Normally, I catch the call, but the phone was hiding elsewhere. There was nothing new about his message. Just his voice reminding me that he had safely made it to his destination.

“Hey, momma. I’m here at school. Have a good day. Love you. Bye.”

His words interrupted my train of thought—a train hunkered down and in the middle of 2nd Timothy and the apostle Paul’s chains. I looked up for a moment and tearfully echoed my response back to my son with an outstretched hand extended in the direction of the answering machine.

“Love you too, baby. Go with God today. Be with God. Let him be your light.”

He couldn’t hear me. But God could, and between the two of us—me and God—a message of peaceful intention was instantly carried from this mother’s heart to the heart of her child, despite the ten mile chasm between us.

With those few words of exchange, albeit spoken into the air and without the benefit of a face to face communication, my thoughts have shifted from Paul’s chains toward the pondering of something else.

Paul’s benedictions.

From Romans to Hebrews, and every book in between, Paul concludes his teaching letters with a benediction—words of blessing and final encouragement. Words like…

“Now to him who is able to establish you by my gospel and the proclamation of Jesus Christ,… to the only wise God be glory forever through Jesus Christ! Amen.” (Romans 16:25-27).

“The grace of the Lord Jesus be with you. My love to all of you in Christ Jesus. Amen. (1 Corinthians 16:23-24).

“May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all.” (2 Corinthians 13:14).

Words like that. And even though the recipients of said words, both then and now, didn’t hear them as I imagine Paul voicing them while he wrote, God did. God does. And between the two of them—Paul and the Holy Spirit of God—a message of peaceful intention has been carried from one saint’s heart to another, despite the 2000 year chasm between us.

Paul understood the power of a blessed benediction. He punctuated his “hard” teachings with words like grace and peace and love. And while we may not fully understand the depth of all that Paul was trying to say within his letters, it is easy for us to receive and to get our hearts around his endings.

As it was with Paul’s “sincerely’s” and “postscripts,” so it is with ours. Thus, a question or two.

How goes it with the blessed ending of our words? The crescendo of our communications? The climax of our conclusions? The closing of our conversations?

How do we punctuate our exchanges with humanity? When others walk away from our wordy embraces, do they walk away with grace and peace and love? Or do they walk away with something to the contrary? With … confusion … sorrow … bitterness … nothingness?

When we close our letters, when we finish our phone calls, after we spell check our emails and polish our correspondence into ship-shape, when we conclude our meetings (whether in the boardroom or around the kitchen table), when we finally reach the end of all that we’re trying to say…

how will we say it? Furthermore, will we say it, or will we leave our words dangling in mid-air, hoping for their soft landing and subsequent understanding but not giving much thought to their conclusion?

Benedictions. They are ours to give, ours to write and ours to speak. When we refuse them their voice, we’ve spoken less even though God intends for us to speak more. His more—his words when we’ve finally come to the end of ours.

It’s not all about the preacher’s moment. We think it is. After all, benediction is a bulletin word—a “holy” kind of word that follows the sermon. But you and I, we are a holy kind of people bringing God’s truth to this world. Our lives are intended to read as a sermon. And when we get to the end of it, a little grace and peace and love is the perfect punctuation to a well-spoken … a well-lived … life.

I don’t want my words or my life to conclude with confusion and nothingness. I want my benedictions to read everlasting and on purpose so that years from now, they will serve as a lasting memorial from my heart to the generation of hearts who are coming up behind me. They may not hear my words now, even as I voice them while I type, but between the two of us—me and my extraordinary God—I believe in their preservation.

May they always be found worthy of such sacred perpetuation. Thus, I pray…

Benedict my life with your sacred punctuation, Father. With your words of grace and peace and love. May the utterings of this mouth and the overflow of this heart be used to point others to the cross. Never let my busy forsake the blessing of others. Instead, remind me to finish well—my conversations and my life. Let the conclusion of my words be filled with the conclusion of your truth, and let your truth be the grand conclusion of the conversation that I now carry in my heart. Amen and amen.

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PS: My benediction to you this day via the words of the Apostle Paul as found in Hebrews 13:20-21.

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