knowing God | Elaine Olsen

Deep Waters…

September 20, 2010

“The purposes of a man’s heart are deep waters, but a man of understanding draws them out.” (Proverbs 20:5).

A couple of years ago, I attended a women’s conference where I had the privilege of meeting a few of my blogging friends. At that time, I was fairly new to blogging, so the depth of relationship with other bloggers remained somewhat superficial. (It takes time to build depth of relationship, does it not?) I’ll never forget a comment I received from Lelia after spending some time with her one evening.

“Elaine, I thought you would be this deep, philosophical, thinking kind of person, but you’re really normal and fun to be around.”

I immediately understood what she was saying, and after a hearty, belly laugh we went shopping… for underwear. Yes, it didn’t take long for me to dispel any myths regarding my ponderous estate, and I was glad for the disclosure. Why? Because I sometimes think it is easy for us to paint a picture with our words in our blog posts that misses the mark regarding who we are in our day-to-day, real life. I never want to be accused of “writing someone” that I’m not. Accordingly, I’ve tried to keep it real here at the blog, even as I try to keep it real in on the pavement of my everyday life.

Am I normal and fun to be around? Ask anyone who knows me. They’re the accurate judge on the matter. On the contrast, am I a deep, philosophical, thinking kind of gal? I’ll let the archives of my some 350 blog posts tell the story. I am a woman who loves to laugh and who loves to ponder. Laughter and thinking are compatible sojourners on this pilgrimage of grace. They balance one another… knowing when to defer center-stage status to the other and when to step in as a replacement. I don’t have to be one or the other. I can be both.

And just this morning, I came across the above verse from Proverbs which seems to grant me permission to keep pondering… keep thinking… keeping digging deeply into the recesses of my heart for the hidden mysteries that reside beneath. God mysteries. The ones that belonged to him first; the ones that belong to me now because of my status as his child.

“However, as it is written: ‘No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him’—but God has revealed it to us by his Spirit. The Spirit searches all things, even the deep things of God.” (1 Corinthians 2:9-10).

I’ve got some “deep waters”, friends. So do you. You may think that you don’t… that somehow you’re just an average thinker with an average heart that doesn’t dip too far below the surface to mine the treasures of God—to contemplate his heart, his thoughts, and his perspective. Some of you feel ill-equipped for the task, perhaps even wrong for wanting to try. God is big… really big, and you feel comparably small. Digging below the surface to get to the heart of God may seem dangerous to you… even treacherous, almost as if to “go there” would be to cross some spiritual boundary or to break some religious law that wrongly states, “You can go this far with God and no more.”

God doesn’t put limits on what can be known about him. Certainly, in this season of our lives we see in part, live in part, know in part, walk in partial understanding. Fullness of understanding will come when we get home to Jesus, but until then, we have the freedom to dig.

Deeply dig.

To dip our buckets into the well of perfect understanding and to wait for God to fill them accordingly. We get to live deeply because we anchor our personal ships in some deep waters. When our lives were formed and fashioned in the secret place (Psalm 139), they were created in depth, with depth, to live depth. There was nothing shallow about that moment; in contrast, your conception represents, perhaps, the deepest, most hidden moment of your existence. When God weaved you together in your mother’s womb, he variegated your flesh with colors and contrasts and intricacies that can only be discovered with your willingness to go deeper with your Creator.

In doing so—in mining the treasures beneath your surface—you discover some of the mysteries that better enable you to live your life with sacred perspective. You discover the wise counsel of God which sheds light into your plan and your purpose for being on this earth. Without the dig comes the risk of remaining shallow—of living the rest of your days with surface understanding.

For some of you, that’s enough. You don’t have to think too far beyond current wisdom to be secure in your faith. You’re happy with the knowledge that you hold, and it will be more than enough to carry you through to glory. I celebrate that in you. I wouldn’t want you to be someone that you’re not. But I will tell you this one thing because, just maybe, you haven’t realized this about yourself.

You’ve got some deep waters bubbling beneath the surface of your heart this day. A big, huge cauldron of wet waiting for you to dive into in order to discover some hidden truth that you’ve yet to hold as your own. To get there, you need to be willing to get wet—to ponder and to think with your heart wide-open before God. You’ll need to ask questions in prayerful pause. You’ll need to wait for our Father’s response. It won’t be immediate, but as you are faithful to press into the heart of God, he will be faithful to fill yours with a ladle or two of his personal mystery.

And for that, friends, I’ll keep digging. I want to know Christ. I want to live the resurrected life while my flesh yet tarries in this land. Today is the day of salvation, and we have a God who can be known… deeply known. And for as much as I can know God on this side of eternity, I’ll keep dipping my bucket into his well of grace.

“The purposes of a man’s heart are deep waters, but a man of understanding draws them out.”

Even so, Lord, make me a woman of depth this day. Keep me drawing from your well and keep me believing that with every personal, intentional pursuit of knowledge that I make will come further understanding into the deep things of you. Forgive me when I choose less. Bless me when I choose more… choose big… choose deeply… choose you. I thank you for your mystery. Even greater, I thank you for allowing me to hold some of it as my own. Amen.

Peace for the journey,

elaine

PS: Many of you have asked regarding my schedule for the week and how you might pray for me. In the future, I may initiate a “caring bridge” page to keep you updated on the medical trail I’m traveling, but for now, here’s the latest:

Tuesday: Genetic counseling and BRCA testing in Chapel Hill.

Wednesday: PET/CT scans locally

Friday: MUGA (heart) testing, along with chemotherapy counseling locally.

In the next week, a follow-up meeting with my oncologist, the placement of a port-a-cath, the beginning of an eight-cycle regimen of chemotherapy over the next four months.

Please pray for continued healing from my surgery… still very sore and the thought of implanting a port-a-cath sends my stomach reeling! For strength enough, peace enough to courageously walk into this new chapter of healing. We love you each one and covet your prayers as we go forward. Now, how might I pray for you? 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,

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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.

the riches of knowing God…

May 17, 2010

{I love my kids… front yard PR!}

“What are you going to do with all your riches, Elaine, now that you’re famous?”

This was the question that assaulted me this morning when I walked through the doors of the church. It was said in jest with good intention, still and yet, it stuck with me.

All my riches.

How do I begin to measure the bounty that I have known at the hand of God, not just over the past couple of weeks, but the entirety of the past forty-four years? It’s an impossible endeavor to be sure, but one I’m trying to work my way through in this season of my life. We should all take time to pause in order to consistently contemplate our riches. It is the “way” of a grateful heart. And so today I’ve taken that occasion… spent some time reflecting and remembering the riches of God.

How well I remember a December day four years ago when my writing dreams were shattered by a publishing company that had held onto my first manuscript for nearly eight months. It was my first attempt at writing a book, a Bible study on the book of Nehemiah. I was certain it would “hit the mark” with publishers and, for a season, all seemed to be clicking along.

Until that day.

I received a courteous but succinct “pass” on my work, and I was crushed. I still remember my young son standing on the other side of a closed bedroom door, listening to my guttural weeping. Before long, I saw his tiny fingers reaching through the crack at the bottom, clutching in his hand two quarters. After opening the door to his generosity, I asked him regarding those two quarters. His reply?

“I’ll buy your book, mommy. Even if no one else wants to read it, I’ll buy it, and when I’m old enough to read, I’ll read it.”

That day was a turning point for me. My son’s two quarters sealed something in my heart… something I’d known for a long season, yet something I hadn’t allowed myself to believe.

My giftedness with the pen is fueled and maintained by my Father’s heart and kindness toward me. His willingness to use my feeble flesh for his kingdom purposes is far beyond my understanding and doesn’t compute with human reasoning. Still and yet, he allows me a measure of influence along these lines and, therefore, I must write for him alone. His approval is the only one that matters to me. Man’s opinion will come and go, mostly based on the bottom dollar and with a “what’s in it for me” attitude, but God’s opinion isn’t fleeting. It doesn’t come with an expiration date. My words leave a lasting impression upon his heart and in his world, and when those words write otherwise—when I am tempted to offer up a “flavoring” in keeping with trends and statistics and with “what’s selling”—then I forfeit a piece of my soul. The world becomes too important to me, and I lose focus of the truly satisfying and singularly focused passion of my heart…

Knowing God.

As a people in search of a meaningful identity, we spend a great deal of time exploring our “passions,” do we not? We invest our energies into discovering God’s calling upon our lives, God’s will for lives, wearing ourselves out with comparing our lives to that of “so and so” and wondering why his or her fruit is harvesting at a seemingly more rapid rate than ours. Why that person seems to be getting all the breaks while we languish in our desire to do something, be something, live something more than what we’re currently living. We make God’s “calling” regarding our lives a difficult embrace (something our market has hit upon as evidenced by the number of books, seminars, Bible studies written on the topic) when all the while, he keeps it pretty simple.

“Now this is eternal life: that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent.” (John 17:3).

Knowing God. It’s what I’m about. He’s my passion. He’s my calling. He’s my meaningful identity, and for the time that remains for me on this earth, my pen will write accordingly… about my knowing God and then from that knowing, leading others to know the same. Therefore, I no longer feel the need to chase after the approval of man. It’s nice when it arrives to validate my heart-felt rendering, like when…

My mother takes my book to Curves (her workout establishment) and witnesses other patrons reading the desk copy she’s left there for promotional purposes. When one of those patrons voices her approval by saying, “This is really good; how can I get a copy?”

Or when…

A friend I’ve never met face-to-face from the opposite side of the country sends me an e-mail to let me know she’s spent some time in the “desert” section of the book and that the reflection entitled “a turn toward the better” was just what she needed to hear… “These are words of life, dear heart. They are something one can weep over because of shared pain: different in specific, similar in cost. But more importantly these are fighting words for me. The journey ahead is unclear, but walk it I will. Not at all in the spirit of my own might but in the spirit of the blood of the resurrection bloom. These are words, unusual words, that excite to love and good works.”

Or when…

Another e-mail arrives from a former college friend telling me that a copy of my book (one that her dad insisted on her purchasing last week) arrived on her doorstep just twenty-four hours before he passed from his earthly pain into final heavenly glory and that her heart’s been stuck on pages 84-86, from the “peace in the suffering” section.

Or when…

A church friend makes her way to my side this morning to tell me that, while she knows she’s supposed to be taking her time to absorb each reflection, she couldn’t help but “read on” because, for her, it was like I was talking to her… like we were having a conversation over coffee.

Moments like that; validation that doesn’t necessarily come with the ratings of a New York Times’ best-seller, but validations that matter for all eternity. It stuns me and buoys me along in the journey of grace and for the continuing cultivation of the driving desire and goal of my heart…

Knowing God.

And so, this night I answer the question that assaulted my sensibilities this morning. What am I going to do with all my riches now that I’m famous?

Make God famous and continue to invest his riches into my heart and life so that my pen might flow freely for his good purposes and for his kingdom gain. All other endeavors of my well-intentioned plans fall prey to this one. Therefore, may the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart leave a lasting impression upon his heart and within the hearts of his people. To this end, I pray. I pray the same for you. As always…

Peace for the journey,

PS: Thank you, everyone, for your support over the last couple of weeks in regards to the promotion of my book. This week, I’ll be giving away another copy or two of my book to those of you who are willing to support me a bit further by contacting at least five people in your life who’ve yet to hear about “peace for the journey.” Perhaps someone in your e-mail address book, someone in your church, someone in your family, someone in your neighborhood. If you’d be willing to let at least five new people know about my book (and we’re operating on the honor system here), please let me know in the comment section. Please share the video link with your contacts, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qdJDjiHzCQI or a link to this post announcing the book, https://www.peaceforthejourney.com/2010/05/peace-for-journey-in-pleasure-of-his.html. I’d be so very grateful for your kindness toward me and toward God’s kingdom agenda for my life. Shalom.

{to order, click Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Winepress}

the kindness of God

March 10, 2010

They kept asking, “What does he mean by ‘a little while’? We don’t understand what he is saying.” Jesus saw that they wanted to ask him about this, so he said to them, “Are you asking one another what I meant when I said ‘In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me’? I tell you the truth… ” (John 16:18-20)

I saw something this morning, something I’ve missed a hundred times before while reading this passage of Scripture. I didn’t mean to come across it; it simply came across me—my heart and my thinking, and I am deeply moved by what I discovered. This morning in my reading, I saw the kindness of God displayed in a way I’d not seen it before; not just once but twice.

First in his astute observation of the situation. Secondly, with his answer to the situation.

Let me explain. It would be so much easier for me to tell you this via a video, even as I told my Bible study group this evening, but alas, videos take a ton of time to upload, and I’m afraid my energy reserves are at an all-time low. Thus, this is my quick attempt at sharing some truth with you that personally means so very much to me this night. I believe that someone needs the witness of the Word, even as I have needed it.

Our Jesus is kind. He tends to our needs, our questions, and our pains as they come to him; sometimes even before they move from our lips to his ears in the form of a prayer. Did you catch that here? Did you read that even in the midst of the disciples’ tremendous grief and confusion regarding Christ’s soon and certain departure, Jesus interrupted their pain with his answer? He didn’t wait for them to get around to asking the question—about what he meant when he said “in a little while.” He saw, in advance, the troubled nature of their hearts and interjected his witness into the mix. This is a tender, first kindness from Jesus to the children he loved back then… the children he loves still.

The second kindness he offered them was one of words. Five seemingly insignificant words that, when spoken by the Creator, have the capacity to change the direction of all hearts in a single pause.

“I tell you the truth…”.

It really doesn’t much matter the answer that follows. Well, it does to a degree. Christ clearly interpreted the meaning behind his words for his followers that day. But the truth is, when Jesus says, “I tell you the truth…”, you and I can take whatever words that follow to the spiritual bank. His truth is the lavish gift of all heaven; it keeps us, moves us, emboldens us, and points us in the right and good direction. This is a loving, second kindness from Jesus to the children he loved back then… the children he loves still.

Oh would you, Father, tell us the truth? For we are a people surrounded by temporal lies that are eating us alive. Everywhere we turn, every road we travel, everything we see, is littered with a scheme from the enemy to keep us as we are—confused, tormented, consumed by tragedy, blanketed in pain. We are up to our necks with the world’s version of “truth,” and we are drowning in its deception.

Are there any greater two kindnesses we could receive from our God today?

One—his intervention of an answer to our questions even before they are asked, and…
Two—the witness of his truth?

I wish so very much that I could sit with you in contemplation of our Father’s kindness. Something tells me he would be well pleased with the conversation, for where two are three are gathered in his name, he promises to come alongside and interject his thoughts into the mix. When God is the topic of our many words, he bends low to listen; he moves in to make sure we get it right. Get him right.

God is right, and he is kind, and his love for us extends reason and limits. It extends all the way from a moment 2000 years ago to right now, this day, when the truth of his Word still stands as the truth for all seasons. How I love God for interrupting my day with the witness of his kindness! May his kindness reach you this day as well. As always…

peace for the journey,

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