Category Archives: friendship

A Toast to Vintage

A Toast to Vintage

“‘I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. … This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.’” (John 15:5, 8).

They arrived this week. Packaged with care and wrapped in love. My vintage treasures.

from Liz at Kentucky Bound

A tea cup, a handkerchief, some lace, and embroidered linen. A decorative pin, a sewing basket, some needles, and some thread. A CD, a book, some candles and some tea. Old and new treasures given to me because the luck of the draw landed in my favor.

I’ve never received such a gift. Partly because of the giver—someone I have never met face to face but someone who is growing dearer to me with each blogging encounter—and partly, because of the gift’s contents. Somebody’s “old” became this girl’s “new”, and I am moved by the gesture. Not because it is the right and polite way to react but because there is something wonderfully significant attached to the owning of another’s treasure from, perhaps, another era in history.

The gifts that arrived on my doorstep used to belong to someone…used to matter to someone. Now they belong to me, and I am free to do with them as I please. And right now what pleases me most is the contemplation of their worth…of their vintage significance. Not with a dollars and cents kind of worth, but with a value that extends beyond an earthly understanding.

Vintage. A word that means…

“(1) the wine from a certain crop of grapes;(2) a year’s crop of grapes; (3) the season of gathering grapes and making wine; (4) outstanding quality, choice; (5) type of thing fashionable or popular during an earlier season.”[i]

And while definition #5 seems to define the treasure in question, I am struck by the originating definition of word which is represented in the other four definitions—the choice wine from a certain crop of grapes grown in season within a particular year, and usually sown within the soil of a selected vineyard.[ii]

With vintage comes specificity. Selective choice. Particular taste.

With vintage comes a seasoned approach to the cultivation of grapes, therefore leading to the production of a wine that is meant to be savored in seasons yet to come.

And while my vintage treasure doesn’t boast a bottle of fine wine, I see the connection between the two. My gifts are the treasures from a season past. Treasures that have grown more precious and, perhaps, more valuable as time has turned its clock. Ask the original owners of said treasures and they would most likely respond with something along the lines of…

I remember when my husband gave me that pin on our wedding anniversary. That sewing basket sat beside my bed. The lace once adorned my dresser. That embroidery? I needled that when I was ten. And that tea cup? Let me tell you about some of the conversations and prayers I had over that cup of seasoned brew.

Indeed, my vintage treasures hold some value. Not from a financial perspective, but from a seasoned perspective. They were first cultivated within the soil of someone’s past, and now they have made their way to the table of my current. I will savor their flavor for a season, and then, perhaps, pass them along for a savoring yet to come.

This is the simple joy of a vintage treasure. It retains its flavor beyond the era in which it was birthed.

Two thousands years ago, a Vine grew upon the soil of Calvary’s vineyard, the branches of which continue to bear fruit. You and I…we are those branches alongside countless others who have grafted their hearts within the Vine’s embrace. We are cultivated for vintage. For the pressing through and for the pouring forth of a choice Wine whose flavor is meant to be savored for all eternity.

Not all will partake. There are those who will sniff around its edges and deem His bouquet too potent…too aromatically displeasing to the smell. Their smells are otherwise inclined…bent toward a sweeter swallow. They forsake a drink of the Vintage for the drunken folly of fools, chasing after the immediate rather than pausing to savor the timeless. They refuse to consider his value because his value is cloaked in old…in yesterday…in a history meant for containment—for an era long gone and since forgotten. Or so they reason.

But this is the simple joy of a vintage treasure…God’s treasure. He has retained his flavor beyond the era in which he was birthed.

His is a continuing savor, grown in season—past, present, and future. His Vine never boasts empty and his cup never runs dry. If we, as his branches, refuse his cultivation, there comes along another to pour forth his cup. Jesus will never be fruitless because his wine poured eternal on the day that he hung within God’s selected vineyard and bled on our behalf. He was meant for the pressing through and for the pouring forth, and this day I am drunk with gratitude for the gift of God’s costly vintage.

Jesus Christ is the finest wine I have ever tasted, and so I pray…

Fill me Father, with the treasure of your Son. Graft me within the Vineyard’s embrace and grow me with specificity. And when harvest season arrives, pour me forth as a drink offering upon the soil of my current. Fill my cup to overflow so that a taste of your eternal spills forth into the hearts of men and women who long for a drink of something lasting…something treasured…something vintage. You have transcended the embrace of history to find your place at my table this day. You have become the savor of this girl’s heart. Humbly and with the deepest of gratitude, I receive my portioned cup. Amen.

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[i] Thorndike & Barnhard, “vintage,” Scott, Foresman Intermediate Dictionary (Garden City: Doubleday & Company, 1979), 1014.
[ii] http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/vintage

A Gracious Grace

A Gracious Grace

“Abraham and Sarah were already old and well advanced in years, and Sarah was past the age of childbearing…”. (Genesis 18:11).
 

…flawed perspective

…better perspective

 

I challenged them this morning to examine Abraham and Sarah’s “old.” To think about their current state of being and to pinpoint the ways in which they, too, felt old and advanced in years and past the age of bearing anything new. It was an appropriate question to ask this congregation of 400 plus, for many of them are at retirement age and have been doing this “life thing” for a long season.

Some of them are long past having a dream or a hope for anything new. Most of them are simply living out their days along the sandy shores of South Carolina…in a community called Little River…in a church nestled along highway 17…on the way to a beach named Myrtle.

I don’t know why God allowed me the privilege to serve them this morning with his Word. I believe that it had everything to do with his lavish grace. I feel like the Apostle Paul’s “least of these,” while at the same time knowing that I am well qualified to parcel out the message of God’s abundant grace. It is a message that I have lived and breathed and am now able to articulate with a knowing and thankful passion. His has been a gracious grace. A mysterious and reaching grace that is transforming my flesh into a vessel of his design.

It is difficult for me to frame for you just exactly what this weekend meant to me. My emotions run deep, and I am profoundly moved by my experience. But while it is fresh within my heart, I wanted to tell you about one moment…about one saint of God who gave me a gift this morning.

His name is Calvin, and he has been walking with the Lord for nearly 90 years.

After the first service at 8:30, Calvin was quick to make my acquaintance. He told me that he has been a life-long Methodist, surrounded by a family heritage of Methodist preachers. My heart glowed, for I can boast the same. My husband is a Methodist preacher and was able to make the trip with me this weekend. My father, a Methodist preacher, stood behind his own pulpit this morning, and we were able to share a brief but precious conversation prior to the start of our days. So Calvin and me? We had some common ground and quickly became friends.

When I told Calvin how blessed that I felt to have met him and how I looked forward to sharing heaven with him, he told me that I hadn’t seen the last of him. He would be back for a second go around at the 9:50 service.

He was there to participate in, what I perceived to be, a new experience for him—a contemporary-style type of worship. Not quite sure of the tunes and the clapping and the freedom of worship, Calvin willingly offered his participation. At the close of the service, I once again commented to Calvin about my joy in serving such a saint of God. He quickly told me that the real saint—his bride of sixty-two years—had recently passed away and that I would see him again…at the 11:00 service.

When the time arrived for me to preach the same sermon for a third time, I commented from the pulpit that Calvin was either unsure of this peculiar woman who had taken siege of the pulpit or that God was up to something…an Abraham and Sarah kind of something, and that perhaps, the third time would be the charm. Perhaps this time, something would take hold. I think that it did, for at the close of the service, Calvin made his way up front, bowed his knee at the altar, and raised his hands toward heaven.

With the “amen” spoken, I made my way to the back of the church to greet the members as they left. Calvin soon found me and asked me to step aside. He needed to tell me something. I wasn’t prepared for his words of blessing. He said…

“I’m from the old school…the old tradition. I used to think that the pulpit wasn’t a place for women. I used to think that, Elaine, but I don’t anymore. Yes…I’ll see you again. If not here, then there.”

And with these words, Calvin spoke a benediction to my heart that I will never forget.

He gave me a gift. This saint of God, well advanced in years and thinking that he was past the age of bearing anything new in his life, bowed the knee one more time to his Savior to receive the promise of grace. A “new every morning” kind of grace. A grace that fell as a fresh word upon his aging heart this day. A grace that offered a blessing to me in the process–

the privilege of sacred participation.

What God did for Calvin…what God did for Abraham and Sarah…God has done and is doing for me. For he has planted a seed of promise within my aging flesh for something “new.” God did it this morning through one of his most precious saints. A saint with whom I will share eternity.

I want to spend some time this week exploring the treasure trove of Genesis 18:1-14. Perhaps it has been a while since you have examined its worth. I welcome your participation. Take some time this day to read the scripture. Find yourself somewhere within the story, and then ask yourself the question that I asked of God’s saints at Little River UMC.

Calvin asked himself the question. Calvin answered the question with a bowed knee and a surrendered heart, proving to me that I am never too “old” to receive the promise of God’s “new.” God’s grace has, indeed, been gracious. I will not soon recover from my time in the pulpit. I think that God has planned it accordingly.

And so tonight, as I lay my weary and well-satisfied head on my pillow, I say a prayer of thanks to you…my new friends in Little River. Especially for you, Dan & Cheryl, for you Pastor Randy, and for you Beth for your gracious invitation to sacred participation. You all…every last one of you…have marked me forever with your love and with your benedictions of grace over my life. It has been my privilege to wash your feet this day, and so I pray…

Thank you, Father, for the boldness of Peter. For the eloquence of Paul. For some of the wisdom of Solomon, and for the Spirit of Elijah. You have answered the prayer of my heart, and readily I receive the “new” that you have breathed into my life this day. Bless my new friends at Little River with a fresh explosion of your presence. Blow through that church and bring new life into its pews. Strengthen its people with power of your Spirit. Guide and direct Pastor Randy as he seeks to shepherd your flock. Let this day be the day when the journey of faith begins anew for each person in unexpected measure and with the glorious freedom that comes with Calvary’s grace. You have given me more than I expected, Lord, and to You, alone, I bow in surrender and praise. Amen.

 

Sacred Tuesdays

Sacred Tuesdays

“As you come to him, the living Stone—rejected by men but chosen by God and precious to him—you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.” (1 Peter 2:4-5).

Sacred days. Days set apart as extraordinarily different. Special. Unique and consecrated for purpose. Sabbath days. Twenty-four hours given to God for God’s intended end. Some would call it Sunday, and indeed, Sundays are meant for all things sacred. But there is another day in my week…a Tuesday…that receives the seal of God’s sacred authenticity.

What makes a Tuesday sacred?

Tuesdays are my stone laying days. Days when I stand alongside my sisters in Christ to build a spiritual unity. Days when we lay our precious stones beside and upon one another because our Architect has a plan in mind. A building he’s building. A spiritual house resting on the foundation of his Calvary love and built with the nails of his surrender.

A holy priesthood of believers. A collective unity comprised of unique individualities. Living… breathing…flesh-walking stones. Stones with names. Stones I call friends. Stones who are willing to lay their lives alongside me as a corporate sacrifice to our God.

Sacred Tuesdays began soon after my arrival to this community four years ago.

They began with a group of women called the “lunch bunch.” It was an accidental gathering. A first lunch shared with two of my senior friends at a local café. God stirred our hearts for fellowship on that warm summer day, and rarely has there been a Tuesday when we have neglected that stirring. The lunch bunch has grown to include anywhere from six to twelve women. I pride myself on being the youngest, but I am humbled by their exceedingly great wisdom.

Years of walking with God have taught them much about living life at a sacred level. I glean abundance from their teaching. They don’t impose it upon me. They simply live it. And through our laughter and eating and talking and listening, God is pleased to continue with his build.

He joins us at the table and consecrates our lives for sacred living. One stone after another, until a sturdy portion of faith finds its home along the walls of his house.

These lunches are a gift to me and would have been enough to qualify any of my Tuesdays as sacred. But my God is a “more than enough” kind of God, and he decided to punctuate my Tuesdays with another portion of his sacred build.

He gave me Bible study. Just as quickly as the “lunch bunch” weaved their way into my hearts, so did my Bible study group. Tuesday nights seemed a good fit with our church’s schedule of “doings,” and thus began our gatherings to study God’s Word. Ten Bible studies and 103 Tuesday nights later, we are still gathering. We number in the 20’s, 30’s, or 40’s on any given night. It matters not our numbers. What matters is that we come seeking God, offering up our worship to him as sacred sacrifice.

God is faithful to meet us around our tables. He consecrates our lives for sacred living…one stone after another…until a sturdy portion of faith finds its home along the walls of his house.

Indeed, from beginning to end, my Tuesdays are sacred. They belong to God and to the women he has so graciously scripted into my life. Apart from him, Tuesdays would simply be another day. A day when all manner of lunches and gatherings take place. But days and moments that include him? These are sacred days. And when he graces them with fellow pilgrims alongside, we are in for a build of the most sacred kind.

We are being built into a kingdom. A kingdom that cannot be shaken or destroyed. A kingdom constructed by the hands of a King who lays our stone alongside another’s and cements our purpose with sacred and sturdy surety.

Alone, my stone remains simply a solitary piece of rock incapable of supporting little more than my lofty ideals and feeble faith. But my stone alongside another and another and another? Well, we become a wall in the great house of God! The temple where he chooses to make his dwelling. And for that consecrated privilege, I willingly cast my stone at his feet.

Sacred Tuesdays. They are worthy of my obedience. They are God’s gracious gift to me. I pray that you know a similar portion. If not, then you are welcome to this table of grace. Come and sit awhile with my Father and me. It is my great joy to lay some stones alongside you as we yield to the Builder. He is after a masterpiece my friends, and in the end, we will marvel at his handiwork. Your story…your stone…weaves its way into mine. And so I pray,

Weave me, Living God, into your story of grace. This day, I come to you as a living stone, asking for your hands to place me within the wall of your spiritual house. Thank you for sacred Tuesdays—for moments in my life when I stand alongside my fellow pilgrims to build your kingdom. You knew I needed them, Lord…my Tuesday girls. I think they may have needed me, too. Together we are doing far more than we could ever do alone. We are being built into a holy priesthood, and this day I offer you my stone for the laboring. Let it not be in vain, Lord, for I long to be used for kingdom purpose. Guide me to such a sacred end. Amen.

And without further fanfare…allow me to introduce to you some of my Tuesday girls of grace!





peace for the journey~elaine

A Sacred Passing

“What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ.” (Phil. 3:14).

Some moments are worthy of our words…worthy of our remembrance. This is one of them.

We buried her yesterday. Sixty-four years worth of flesh buried beneath our grief for a life gone too soon. A life named Maxine. A woman I called friend.

I haven’t known her long. When my family moved here four years ago, we became friends through Bible study. She was not a member of my church, but never let it be said that she did not belong in my church. Long before I called this community my home, she was here…living out the faith that claimed her heart from an early age.

It is a faith that sustained her through some of life’s darkest moments…moments that have known my participation. Cancer moments. Six years worth of disease. A disease that has infiltrated our little community with reckless abandon and with determined resolve. One month ago, I buried another Bible study friend for the same reason. And can I just say…I don’t like burying my friends. I like having them in my life.

People move me. They always have. I would trade many of life’s earthly pleasures to simply have a cup of mocha with a friend…to sit across the table from one of God’s children and to engage with them in sacred conversation. God designed us for relationship. It has always been his plan, and it is a plan that I consider to be one of the most precious privileges given to us as believers in Christ.

Maxine taught me a lot about relationship. She was a woman of extraordinary grace and beauty…thru and thru. From the inside to the out, her faith journey was poetry in motion. Every room that she graced and every word that she spoke was a moment worth remembering, for wherever she was, God was right beside. Being with Maxine was like being next to Jesus. She embraced those around her with the great big, all-surpassing, unconditional love of God. Whether in health or in affliction, Maxine was all about her Jesus, and I am a better person because of it.

On one of my last visits with Maxine in the hospital, she caressed my hands with her warm embrace, and through the effects of her morphine drip, she uttered to me the words…

“He’s still on the throne, Elaine. God is still on the throne.”

Indeed, poetry in motion. Grace-filled poetry from the lips of one of God’s saints.

I shall not soon recover from the impact of Maxine’s presence in my life. Two years ago, she bought me a bracelet inscribed with the words, “I count all things loss that I may gain Christ.” (Phil. 3:8). I wear it today as a reminder that despite life’s losses, Christ is the ultimate Gain. Maxine gained Christ long before she dropped her cloak of flesh. But in that moment on Thursday…in that one suspended pause of time from her “here” until her “next”…she gained him face to face. Father to daughter. Savior to sinner. Creator to his most prized creation. An embrace for all eternity.

I will miss Maxine in the days to come. I will want for her presence in my life. But none of my missing or my wanting, would keep her from knowing what she now knows. Her faith has been made sight, and she has received her “well done.” Today, I am all the more eager to receive mine.

Of all the “things” that Maxine could teach me…could give me in this life…a hunger for God’s presence is the best. We are all headed to God’s presence, my friends. One way or another, we will all make that pilgrimage to his feet. Some of us will go gracefully. Some of us will go cursing the inevitable. But make no mistake…all will go. And in a single pause, we will bow before our God and receive our “next.”

What an incredible beginning to an inescapable ending! Eternity with Jesus. Eternity with Maxine. Eternity with you. How I pray for your participation alongside me in the most sacred pilgrimage we will ever make. Who we stand to gain will be worth every loss we have known, and so I pray…

Take from me, Lord, that which will keep me from You. Nothing I have known in this life is worth losing eternity with You. You are the Gain that trumps all my losses. You are my “next.” My forever and always. And until my faith is made sight and I see you upon your throne, keep my feet to the path of grace. Give me a Maxine kind-of love for your world and a Maxine tongue to sing your praises. Amen.

peace for the journey~elaine

Gettin’ our Bounce On…

OK…fellow bouncers…this one is for you.

I can’t believe what a blast I had with each one of you last night! Truly, God was in our midst and gave us a great beginning to our seven week pilgrimage together.

Road signs…road signs. Which one was your favorite? I am torn. As I journey on pilgrimage with God and with you, I need to heed the “Ditch the Witch” sign. I am always relieved to see the “Weight Limit: 6 1/2 tons” sign and the “Bournemouth” sign is a good reminder to me that my silence is necessary if I am going to be able to hear God along the way. Perhaps my favorite, though, would be the “Misty Meadow” sign. It reminds me that I am almost home. You see, after a “timber crossing” and a “slow…funeral in progress”, there always comes a spacious place–a garden of God’s grace. When I turn on “Misty Meadow, I’m entering the territory where my daddy resides, and what awaits me when I arrive are the arms that have always stretched long and wide and high and deep. My Father’s love is a grace that I have never been denied. Neither have you. Sometimes we simply don’t bother to make the trip.

Well, girls, this is one I am willing to pilgrim alongside each one of you. We may not know about the “outlets” and “warning signs” that lie ahead, but we have a God who does. And still he asks us to come. To run our race. To walk it. To crawl it. To simply do it. His promise is to abide with us every step of the way.

What do we stand to lose if we don’t?

Spacious living. Time with our Father around the table of grace. Words of commendation for a journey well done. A privileged commissioning to go and bear his fruit to all peoples of the world. We can make the choice to live life at status quo, or we can put on our shoes, point our feet toward Zion, and begin the pilgrimage toward our Father’s house.

How I hope and pray that you decide to come along for the ride.

College has commenced at the Mount of Olives, my friends. Come and “transform your life one night a week.” Our Professor stands at the podium, and the seats are filling fast. I hope to see you in class next week.

peace for the journey~elaine
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OK…your turn. Feel free to comment about anything that God is teaching you through this study. This is not about me and feeding my ego. This is about you telling the rest of us what is on your heart. What “road signs” is God intentionally placing in your path this week? What Scripture means the most to you in this time? What prayers do you want to be prayed over your life? What profound insights can you share with one another? This is as much a corporate pilgrimage as it is an individual one. Feel free to use the comment section as the Spirit leads.

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