Holy Spirit | Elaine Olsen

"a little bit of money…"

August 9, 2010

My daughter celebrated her 8th birthday this past week. At the top of her wish list?

A little bit of money (her words, not mine).

I read her list aloud to my precious group of “ancients” back in my former town (I had to return this week for a Dr.’s visit, scheduling it on a Tuesday to make sure I didn’t miss the weekly lunch gathering). When I finished reading her list, not only were there chuckles a plenty, but also there was money flying at me from every direction.

“Give this to Amelia… a little bit of money from me, one of the ancients.”

On and on it arrived into my lap, and in the end, Amelia had more than a little bit of money. She had forty-two dollars worth of money! Needless to say, her heart smiled big as she opened up her unexpected treasure. The moment reminded me, yet again, of an important truth regarding our God and his surprises.

He always surpasses our expectations. He can’t help himself. He’s God. Exceeding expectations is a quality built into his character.

We can’t always see it; further still, there are seasons when we refuse to believe it. I know. I’ve been there recently. My little bit of money has seemed paltry at times. Accordingly, I’ve kept my expectations pretty low. These are the steps I’ve lived. I’m not proud of them. I’m just keeping it real with you.

But so is God… keeping it real. And just this morning, he surprised me with a little bit of something…

Himself… right around 11:45 AM while sitting amongst the few saints gathered in corporate worship at Christ UMC.

I don’t know if it was the text that was being preached from John 4—the interchange between Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well. Or, perhaps the preacher—he has a way of making my heart skip a beat from time to time. Or, maybe the fact that my family was gathered all around me. Regardless of the externals, somewhere around 11:45 AM, my husband’s words admonished us to consider “true worship” and the “audience of One” who awaited our worship on Sunday mornings—the One who rends the heavens in order to get a closer look at the two or three gathered to entreat the Lover of their souls. As the words were falling from his lips, I felt the tremor of all creation radiating through my body. From head to toe, outward and in full measure, the Spirit of God resonated with his Spirit living in me, and I was surprised by the gift.

Not just a little bit of God. A whole big bunch of God. And for the first time since being in my new house of worship, I felt a pulse—the living, breathing pulse of heaven, convincing me that God is alive and active and on the move amongst our lampstand. I think others felt it as well, and I am glad for some corporate understanding at this level. I don’t think God’s pulse beats in isolation. There’s something about the gathering of two or three hearts in unified purpose that seems to manifest the presence of the Almighty—one of the primary reasons for our “doing church” as a family.

“I’m counting on the probability that when our Sunday gatherings commence, there will be at least two or three others who have gathered with a similar intention. I want my children [as well as myself] to be in the path of other believers, giving them the opportunity for the sacred intersection of their hearts with the heart of the living God, who knit them together in his likeness.” (pg. 135, “peace for the journey: in the pleasure of his company”).

God is not “dead” in this place. God’s pulse has never been absent from this new congregation. Rather, God’s just been waiting for his children to put his presence at the top of their wish list. To dare to ask for a little bit of himself in hopes and in expectation for eventual fulfillment. Today, I received an inclination of just what that might mean for all of us in the days to come—one sacred dollar at a time, collected and gathered over time, until our laps are overloaded with joy and merriment for the lavish outpouring from his heart into ours. He just can’t help himself. He’s God, and exceeding our expectations is built into his character.

Today, you and I stand on the threshold of a new week. Many are the plans we’ve made; many of them based on necessity, on survival, on making it through another 24/7. Some of us enter the week full of expectation; some with little more than limited hope to make it through. Some of us have God’s presence at the top of our wish list; some of us have asked for lesser things. Regardless of what we’ve asked for or how the level of our anticipation currently measures, God, too, stands at the threshold of our new week. He walks it with us; not apart from us, and if we could get an inclination of just how much he wants to bless us with the revelation of his presence, I’m certain that we’d ask for more. Not just a little bit of God, but rather a whole big bunch of him. That kind of asking is in keeping with our God and his “real.” That’s just how much he wants to be known by his children.

Oh for faith to ask him for more. For faith to trust him more. For faith to expect his more. For faith to unwrap his more. May God extend his heart of mercy into your faith this week and surprise you with a little bit of himself until his pulse multiplies and gathers to become the great expectation of your heart.

Let’s unwrap our awesome God together. I’d love to know how our Father reveals his presence to you this week. As always…

Peace for the journey,

~elaine

PS: The winners for Sandi Patty’s new book will be announced with my next post. There’s still time to enter. Just add a comment to that post, and you’re in! Shalom.

the fire in my bones…

July 15, 2010

“But if I say, ‘I will not mention him or speak any more in his name,’ his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot.” (Jeremiah 20:9).

I wish you could see me this morning… all fussed up in the middle of my bed with grandma’s quilt as my covering and with my “parchments and scrolls” littered about—written words about the Word messing with my heart and mind. Some familiar works; some lesser known, but all of them with one thing in common—

Jesus Christ.

He has that effect on people, you know… starts messing with a heart and then doesn’t leave it alone until it is undone before him requiring a response therein. He’s been messing with me for a long season, and after four months of a grueling faith workout, I’m finally finding some rest. I don’t imagine it will be permanent. Every now and again, faith’s progression requires some strengthening, thus the need for a month or two or four of a strenuous heart-stretching in order to reach the next, higher plateau. I think I’ve reached it… at least for now, and with the accomplishment comes a day or two or four of some sweet steps with the Father where his mentoring is tender and his Word serves as the gentle salve to soothe my aching bones.

We’re in this together, God and me. He keeps reminding me of this… keeps returning to the pavement of my real life with his kindness and goodness—a grace that supersedes any menial expectations I might lay at his feet regarding his participation. God makes it his habit to exceed my limited understanding where his character and his Kingship are concerned. Rarely do I get it right, but always is he faithful with his correction. He can’t help himself. He simply and profoundly wants to be known by his children. God longs to reveal his fullness to his people; all too often, though, we’re unprepared and unwilling for his weighty disclosure. Why?

Because to receive God in all of his glory… to know him as he longs to be known, well with that kind of revelation, we make ourselves vulnerable to full, personal disclosure and for most of us, that isn’t a comfortable fit. The closer we draw to the purifying flames of Christ’s candle, the clearer we see our own deficiencies. God’s fire rids the flesh of everything temporal and replaces it with everything holy—a consecrated word or two or four about the Word that, eventually and in God’s timing, must be spoken aloud so as to avoid personal, internal combustion.

When God embeds his branding upon a heart—when God burns his mark upon a soul—one cannot help but show the world. If you’ve no compulsion along these lines… no need to rip wide-open your heart in order to reveal the sacred imprint that God has left behind in the wake of his purifying flames, then may I be so bold as to suggest that you’ve yet to fully come to the furnace in the matter of your sanctification? If there is no burning desire in you to tell others about Jesus and the saving work of the cross, then what’s the point of your salvation… my salvation? Just to make it home to him in isolation? Just to narrowly escape the flames of hell while our brothers and sister, neighbors and strangers are strangled and confined with their eternal punishment all because we’ve put our personal safety above corporate well-being?

I know it’s a heavy word and, perhaps, not in keeping with the message you might imagine arriving from a day or two or four of sweet steps with my Father. But you’d be wrong, friends, because a message like this is sacred sweetness to my soul. The weightiness of my Father’s presence in my life is the kindest, most generous work of grace I have ever known. Accordingly, with God’s fullness, comes God’s mandate—his words about the Word and about the need to rip wide-open my heart so that those around me might be able to see and to smell the scorch of heaven’s branding.

Jesus Christ is like a fire shut up in my bones. Like the prophet Jeremiah, I am weary of holding him in for these past few months; indeed I cannot. Christ’s love compels me to release him… to unleash the hot and fiery passion of the cross so that all who are caught in its wake might be consumed by its truth. I don’t know where this passion will take me in the days to come. My world lives pretty small right now, but even small presents an occasion for the dispensation of God’s flame every now and again.

A trip to Wal-Mart.
A phone conversation.
An e-mail.
A blog post.
A jog around the neighborhood.
A gathering of the saints at Christ UMC.

Indeed, a small extension in this big arena known as our world, but the last time I checked, roaring fires didn’t start out with a roar. Rather, they began with a single flame lit in honor of a single King for the single purpose of igniting a single heart until one by one, singleness morphs into corporate witness.

A roaring fire, flaming with the truth of heaven… shaking the very foundations of hell.

Indeed, I wish you could see me this morning… all fussed up and messed up with the truth of Jesus while sitting on my bed. I cannot think of a better consumption for my soul in the next day or two or four of my life. Thus, I pray…

Come and be my consumption, Lord Jesus. Fuss me up and mess me up with the truth of your weighty presence. Brand me with the cross and burn me brightly on the hill of your choosing so that others might come to know a day or two or four of sweetness in your presence. I put no conditions on my burning fire, Lord. I only ask for your faithfulness to fill me with your kindling and then to light me with the flame of your abiding Holy Spirit. We’re in this together; apart from you, I burn to ashes. With you, I burn for all eternity. Even so, come and set my heart ablaze for the kingdom. Amen.

Peace for the journey,

post signature

consider your walls…

July 1, 2010

“God is in her citadels; he has shown himself to be her fortress…. Walk about Zion, go around her, count her towers, consider well her ramparts, view her citadels, that you may tell of them to the next generation. For this God is our God for ever and ever; he will be our guide even to the end.” {Psalm 48:3, 11-14}

Do me a favor. Find your Bible and read Psalm 48 in its entirety out loud. Read it from this perspective… a personal perspective. One that understands that you, because of your sacred status as a believer in Jesus Christ, are the living temple of the living God’s, living Spirit (1 Cor. 6:19). That the outward and visible signs of the old covenant, which were once carved in stone, have now moved inward and are carved upon your heart by the precious blood of the cross. Read Psalm 48 that way and when you are finished… walk about your temple and compass around her walls. And then…

Count your towers.
Consider your ramparts.
View your citadels.

Towers. Migdal in the Hebrew language meaning, “elevated stage, pulpits, raised bed.”

Ramparts. Cheyl in the Hebrew language meaning, “fortress, wall.”

Citadels. Armown in the Hebrew language meaning, “palace.”

Thus, count your stages; consider your walls; view your palace.

What God is asking us to do with this passage of scripture is not only to ponder this holy admonition as it occurred in context a couple of millennia ago, but greater still to ponder its worthiness as it pertains to our lives right now. I don’t know about you, but as I walk about my “temple” this day, I’m not sure I see what God sees. The last few weeks of my life have been a blur at best, and I seem to be crumbling to rubble rather than rising to the “temple status” as described in Psalm 48.

I have no personal pulpits to mount (although my family might disagree). No gleaming ramparts to display. No citadels in which to stage my kingdom. Instead, I have boxes and stress and precious few moments of intimate exchange with my Father. No, when I look around at this crazy mess that I call my life, I don’t see much personal application in keeping with the status of Psalm 48. But then again, I don’t always see like my Father sees.

It’s not my pulpits or my best efforts at polishing my life or even the thrones that I ascend that give occasion for my Father’s notice. None of my self-impressed notions, self-imposed restrictions, or self-maintained guidelines garner me the attention of my King. What makes me attractive to him—what elevates me above all the other “fortresses” that are being erected around me in hopes of garnering the world’s notice—is the One, luminous stronghold who lives within my temple walls:

“God is in her citadels; he has shown himself to be her fortress.” {Psalm 48:3}

Indeed he has… shown himself to be my fortress—the Hebrew word misgab meaning, “high place, refuge, secure height, retreat.” I shudder to think of how miserable my life would be living right now if not for the saving, long-reach of Father God. If he were not my high place… my retreat, then my walk about within my palace would be a futile attempt at grasping for personal significance. And quite honestly, who of us needs that kind of exhaustion? Trying to matter to the world without the fortification of and identification with the King will, indeed, leave us with our rubble rather than his restoration. If we’re counting on the outward manifestations of our “pretty” to serve as a lasting impression for the generations to come, then we are one generation away from being forgotten.

Why? Because our attempts regarding our “outward” don’t last; God’s continuing perfection of our “inward” is enduring. When we allow the Master Builder his hands in our palace construction, our tower raising, and our fortress fortification, then what is left behind is something worthy of survey and remembrance. Therefore, precious sojourners on the pilgrimage of grace…

Count your towers. Consider your ramparts. View your citadels.

Because of Jesus, you are a gleaming temple fit for the presence of the glorious, ever-present, always-with-you, King. Only he can bring such beauty to the messiness of your flesh. Only he can make Psalm 48 an up-to-date “write” for your life; mine as well. Thus, I pray…

Walk with me, Father, around my temple today. Together, let us count these towers, consider these ramparts, and view these citadels from your heavenly perspective, not mine. Where there is crumbling, Lord, repair the brokenness. Where there are personal pulpits erected for personal means, tear them down and replace them with your cross. Where there is dullness, shine me with the lustrous revelation of that first, Easter morning sunrise. You are what makes me beautiful and worthy of the next generation’s pause. Today, I humbly ask you to come and make my temple a commendable home for your heart. Thank you for making Psalm 48 a good “write” for my life. Amen.

Peace for the journey,

PS: Please note that all word study references were obtained from Studylight–a wonderful website devoted to helping the average Bible reader strengthen his/her understanding regarding the original language/text of Scripture. Check them out.

a single thing

February 15, 2010

“…being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus” (Philipppians 1:6).

A few days ago, I wrote a post—a few rambling words brought about because of a single picture that spoke a single word to my spirit. Peace.

If truth be known (and really what profit is there in pretending), I didn’t want to write anything. My pen has grown weary in recent days. In fact, a certain fear crept over me last week, albeit momentary, that, perhaps, for the first time in a long time, I had nothing to say… nothing worthy to write. I’ve heard of writer’s block before, but I’ve never experienced it. Even typing that feels strange, almost ominous, almost as if by speaking it aloud, it might come on in full measure after hitting the “publish” button to this post. If I’ve written it once, I’ve written it a dozen times…

For as long as God allows the ink, I’ll keep penning my heart for him. And so, despite my feelings regarding an empty computer screen and with ample tears to go alongside, in obedience I began to type and pray. Pray and type, all the while asking the Lord to just use it as he would… if he would. Apparently, he has, and that, my friends, is no credit to me. It’s a credit to him.

God honors our obedience to use our gifts, most days in spite of us. We can choose our “no’s”—decline his offer of kingdom investment into the lives of others—but our “no’s” do nothing to further his agenda. Certainly there are seasons when our weariness and worn-out status diminish our effectiveness. We must heed those prompts of needful restoration. But even then, God will always use our willingness when our willingness concedes the struggle to his hands over ours… when we get to the end of ourselves and simply say, “If you will, Lord, use me once more in this single thing.”

A single thing.

We never know when ours will make an impact… our single thing—our one act of obedience, chosen freely despite feelings, emotions, and wills that sometime lead us to consider another direction. Instead of choosing self, we choose a single thing that extends influence beyond personal gratification—that changes the direction in someone else’s life, albeit seemingly small and immeasurable. We…

Bake some bread.
Pen a card.
Visit the sick.
Send a gift.
Run the carpool line.
Make a call.
Share a ride.
Hug a neck.
Speak a word.
Write a check.
Answer an E-mail.
Say a prayer.
Lend a hand.
Offer some time.
Share a smile.
Voice some truth.
Do some chores.
Live some love.
Give some Jesus.

Single things, when gathered and collected, become a big thing in the lives of those who stand on the receiving end. We’ve all been the recipients of single things; time and again our need has dictated their arrival. If we were to chronicle those single things—perhaps even the ones that have been lavishly bestowed upon us over the past week—then we would begin to understand the length that our Father’s love is willing to travel in order for us to have a more perfect life.

He’s working it all out, friends, in a way that exceeds comprehension, and he’s using us as his conduits of sacred dispensation. He’s taking the single things of our single days and weaving them into a tapestry that radiates with kingdom color and creativity. Rarely are we aware of his workings as they unfold, for we are a people easily distracted by temporal details and frustrations. God’s goodness continues in its liberality within our day-to-days, but without pause in our spirits to receive his invitation of sacred participation or to receive his goodness as it arrives, we come to the end of our days barely aware of his entrance and intervention on our behalf.

This week you will stand on both sides of God’s equation for goodness; you will receive it in abundance as well as be called upon in some capacity to add to someone else’s. Your obedience with your single thing will bring color to God’s bigger thing—a portrait that collectively gathers grace upon grace to paint a masterpiece worthy of the throne room of heaven. You may think that your single thing doesn’t matter, is too small and too inferior to make a difference. But your obedience to that single thing may just be the one thing that shifts the eternal foundation of someone’s forever.

Don’t underestimate your single thing, friends. Don’t diminish your obedience to use the gifts that God has generously seeded within your heart for kingdom progress. He who began a good work in you is faithful to bring it to completion. Not just for your sake, but more importantly, for his.

Keep to your single thing; keep yielding your heart in obedience as the Spirit prompts, and see if he is not faithful to make it all count! These are good days to be serving alongside of you in continuing faithfulness. Let us march the steps of our spiritual ancestors, believing God for far more than the eye can see, mind can conceive, and heart can imagine. I love you. As always…

peace for the journey,

post signature

on "going public" with Jesus…

January 17, 2010

“As soon as Jesus was baptized, he went up out of the water. At that moment heaven was opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and lighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, ‘This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.’” (Matthew 3:16-17).

Today we celebrated “the Baptism of the Lord” in our worship service. I didn’t know that this particular event in Jesus’ life received a Sunday all its own, even though I’ve been doing this “liturgical” dance with the Methodists all of my life. Christ’s baptism certainly is worthy of remembrance as are all his moments, but this one in particular marked the beginning of something special.

It marked Christ’s beginning journey to the cross—his public ministry on this earth. What began in the Jordan would climax at Calvary. When John baptized Jesus in keeping with the fulfillment of Scripture, God introduced his Son to the world with a few words of sacred commendation. With his affirming love and with his “well-pleased.” The Holy Spirit lighted upon Jesus in the form of a dove, empowering him to walk the earthly road assigned to him.

Today, my preacher (a.k.a. “my man”) admonished us to “remember our baptism” as well. To acknowledge that moment from our past when we first “went public” with the grace of God. My public moment came as a young adolescent, kneeling at the altar railing of the Wilmore United Methodist Church. Dr. David Seamands spoke the moment over me. I remember my white dress, the one I desperately searched for because it was so very important to me to look pure—to be adorned in white raiment in keeping with the sacred occasion. A few friends joined me at the altar that day. They other details have long since faded from memory, but I do remember thinking that this occasion was something more than in keeping with religious protocol. It was a day that marked the beginning of something bigger in my own journey… a walk to the cross of sorts, where my heart and life identified with the heart and life of Jesus Christ at a deeper level.

Long before I ever felt the “wetness” of Dr. Seamands’ hands upon my head, God’s grace was working on my behalf. There has never been a time in my life when Jesus wasn’t real to me. He’s always been present; always been part of my thoughts. He began the sacred conversation with my soul at the earliest of ages. It continues to this day, and I cannot imagine my life without him.

I suppose there have been seasons when I tried… tried to live free from him. Times when I deliberately chose flesh over faith, but even in those moments of willful rebellion, the conversation continued. Muffled some days because of my freely chosen decisions, but present nonetheless. Jesus Christ has kept me, friends, all the days of my forty-three years. He is the reason I have peace in my heart. He is the reason I gather with the saints on a Sunday morning to reflect and remember, rejoice and relive the single truth that has claimed me and transformed me.

Today I remembered Christ’s baptism. I remembered my own. I dipped my hand into the water and clutched remembrance to my chest. I knelt at the altar again and considered my “long ago and far away.” I considered Christ’s as well, and I was thankful for his “entering into” that Jordan River so that I could, one day, enter into my very own moment of “going public” with God.

Please don’t misunderstand me. Baptism, for me, exceeds religious practice. I understand the huge denominational divide that separates our views along these lines. I simply don’t get hung up on it. God’s grace and his Son’s moment at the Jordan are too big to allow me to linger in my limited understanding therein. Some of you are dearly devoted to Jesus Christ and have never had a moment of “going public” with your heart. No water has sprinkled its wetness upon your head; your body hasn’t been submerged in a baptistery, much less the Jordan River. Let me assure you of this…

You are no less precious in our Father’s eyes. If Christ has entered into your broken and weary estate, if you have received him as your Lord and Savior, then you have “gone public” with your Jesus. You have been baptized with the renewing power of his Holy Spirit. When it comes to the matter of our hearts, we answer only to One. And if your heart belongs to the King, then all of heaven rejoices and bends low to offer their chorused applause. Your wetness on the inside far exceeds any public display of “wet” on the outside.

Does that mean that “baptism” is nothing, that it accomplishes nothing, isn’t important or not an appropriate response to the working of the Holy Spirit within us? Not at all. Baptism is an outward and visible sign of an inward working of grace. It is one of the ways we “go public” with our Jesus and our profession of faith. And I happen to believe that “going public” with Jesus is always in keeping with his plans for the crucified life. A life that identifies, in part, with the Savior who went public with his commitment to the cross so that you and I could better walk our commitment accordingly.

Today I remembered my baptism, I remembered Christ’s as well. Tomorrow I pray to remember the same—to never walk a single day without the grace of Calvary pulsing through my veins. I want my life to be the lavish expression of the life that he lived and breathed and walked and surrendered some 2000 years ago on my behalf. To offer any less to him, is to live less. And the last time I checked, “less” didn’t fit with God’s agenda of more.

It’s been a long time since my “long ago and far away” moment of “going public” with Jesus. There are few remaining persons in my life who actually remember that moment. I don’t imagine they think on it very often. The water that poured down my head has long since dried up, and the godly man who put it there? Well, he walked home to Jesus not long ago. But there is One who thinks on it very often. His memory is clear, and his rejoicing still resounds throughout all of heaven to announce that I am his, that his working grace continues on my behalf, and that the indwelling power of his Holy Spirit has found a good and spacious rest within my soul.

{lisa leonard designs}

I am the living temple of God’s living Spirit. So are you. In wearing him, we wear our “going public” display of his witness for all the world to see.

Wear your baptism this week, friends. Remember it well, and walk it into a world that needs the pulse of Calvary moving through its midst. As always…

peace for the journey,

post signature

PS: Friends, please refrain from allowing our comments to become a heated debate regarding the practice of baptism. This is not my intent with this post, but rather to allow us remembrance and reflection regarding the importance of wearing our “baptism”–whatever that has been for us–as a living witness to the world. Shalom.

Category Archives: Holy Spirit