Category Archives: living God’s truth

winter’s work and the wind’s breath

winter’s work and the wind’s breath

Today’s walk outside has been a beautiful gift to me. Today, I left the iPod behind, and for the first time in a long time, I could hear my thoughts think. Thoughts about…
winter’s work and the wind’s breath.
Winter’s work. I saw evidence of it while making my trek around the neighborhood. Brittle, brown leaves lined the gutters, skittering along behind me, in front of me and all around me at the whim of the wind. A lovely sound… a gentle tapping of the pavement reminding me of winter’s work on their previous vitality. And even though their green has faded, their moisture gone, and their lush diminished to dryness, their occupancy on the street remains despite the beginning buds of their replacements. And they are still lovely. Still shapely. Still intricate in their design.
A memorial to an earlier season.
Wind’s breath. A carrier of brittle things. Lighter things. Things that have allowed winter its work within them. The wind cannot carry things heavily tethered to earth. Whether a leaf, a blossom, a bird, or a heart, when life stays attached to worldliness, life will never know the uplift of the wind—the soaring, gentle, gracious rise of heaven’s breath.
A memorial to an eternal truth. One that says there comes…
a going down before a going up.
a drying up before a flying high.
a letting go before a being held.
a tender fall before a gracious lift.
a sacred burial before a sacred resurrection.
a winter’s work before a spring’s revival.
Indeed, my thoughts could think again today, if only in brief. Just enough of a reminder to me that all has not been lost in my winter. That with the brittle and brown and drying of this season, I have retained my occupancy upon this earth. Still intricate in my design; still retaining the veins and shape of an earlier season. Still here amidst the promise of spring, yet lighter because of the stripping of winter.
Today, like my leafy friends, I’m better able to rise with the wind’s breath because of winter’s work within me—a going down, drying up, letting go, tender falling, sacred burial kind of work. A vigorous work in my flesh and in regards to my faith. Winter seasons are like that. Rigid and unrelenting at times, forcing their agenda, begging no apologies.
As with the seasons on earth, so it is with our hearts. We cannot forego winter, in favor of spring, summer, or fall. We simply must receive it as it cycles around, believing that “to every thing there is a season and time to every purpose under heaven.” Winter holds a wealth all its own, and today I briefly caught a glimpse of its worthiness. I heard it as well.
Skittering leaves pushed along and lifted up by the wind.
Winter’s work and heaven’s breath.
Even so, carry me Lord Jesus, and let the chorus of my winter be your spring’s reminder to someone who’s yet to take hold of a sacred letting go. Lift us all to that higher place.
Amen.
post signature

the road-walking Jesus

“So Jesus went with him. A large crowd followed and pressed around him.” {Mark 5:24}
I think about both of them today—two needy souls approaching Jesus from different angles some 2000 years ago. I imagine that day was in keeping with most of the days of Christ’s earthly tenure. Days of…
crowds;
forward movement;
teaching;
healing;
praying;
touching;
loving.
Days of doing what Jesus did best—unearthing the treasures of heaven, revealing the heart and hands of the Divine. Those who knew him and loved him followed him closely, kept his words within earshot and his flesh within arm’s reach. Others—those who knew him less—followed closely as well… their motives in keeping with their needs. Some physical; some spiritual; some just trying to make sense of the rumors that preceded his arrival. Regardless of their reasons for following after Jesus, wherever he went he drew a crowd.
That day would be no different. Fresh off a detour to Gerasa and a showdown with demons, Christ stepped ashore to find a crowd awaiting his arrival. A synagogue ruler named Jarius approached Jesus with a frontal advance, fell at Christ’s feet and earnestly pleaded with him for the life of his young daughter. An unidentified woman approached Jesus from behind, earnestly hoping that a stretch of her arm through tangled robes might grant her a temporary grasping of his hem and, therefore, a permanent healing of her flesh.
Both of them candidates for healing. Both of them operating with a measure of faith. Both of them knowing that proximity to Christ’s presence was the optimum course of action to procure a sought after victory. There would be no sideline watching that day… no curiosity mingling on the outskirts of a moving grace. Instead, they would urgently press into that grace… into Jesus from different angles, believing that with him would come the answer to their need—their pain and their suffering.
I am moved by their simple, yet resolute understanding of who Jesus was; not an understanding birthed from years of scholarly tutorial or religious instruction or thousands of years of hindsight, but rather understanding birthed from personal experience. From hearing and seeing firsthand the generous dispensation of his miraculous grace and then, further, believing that such charity was intended for them at a personal level. They didn’t underestimate Christ’s sacred intentions; instead, they had enough faith to believe that they were, each one, his intention—the reason behind his walking along their road that day. And so, they approached his majesty and his mystery amidst the chaotic pageantry and secured the longed for victory that would forever change the trajectory of their lives.
Proximity to Christ’s presence is the precursor to change, friends. Whether it be a healing of the heart, the mind, or the flesh, taking hold of Jesus in your midst will secure for you his undivided attention and active willingness to undertake you cause. To place upon himself the burdens of your heart and then to mediate his grace and mercy into every angle, nook and cranny, twist and turn of your plight. When it comes to a personal need for healing, a sideline faith laced with tentative curiosity and rumored possibility holds no curative power; instead, it keeps hope and expectation lingering at the edge of what Christ came to do… comes to do…
to free us from that which entraps us—body, soul, and spirit.
We don’t get to choose the blueprint or course of action for how that freeing will occur, but we do get to choose our participation in the matter. When we approach Jesus Christ with our needs, whether it be from the front, back, or from a side-to-side angle, he never fails to get involved. God isn’t reluctant in offering his grace and tender mercy into our situations. He won’t ever force his grace upon us… make us choose him, prefer him, rely on him when our wills are tethered otherwise. But when we do ask Christ for a moment or two of his consideration—his divine intervention into our need—we can be certain of his willingness to act on our behalf.
We are what he came to do—the reason behind his walking his daily grace some 2000 years ago. The reason he left us his personal diary of sorts… a forever record of remembrance so that we might find ourselves somewhere within the story. So that we might live and record our own stories of faith, so that they might serve as a lasting memorial to the transformational power and generosity of our road-walking Jesus.
Today, if you have a need, then you have a Jesus who’s headed your way. Word is… he’s in town. Word is… the crowds are pressing in. Word is… he’s got room for one more. Won’t you join me on the road to behold the Lamb of God and then to take hold of all of that for which he has taken hold of each one of us? I’ve got just enough faith to take me there. Just enough faith to keep me there until I’ve seen his face, felt the transfer of his power, and heard his voice speaking over me…
Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace, and be freed from your suffering. {Mark 5:34}
Indeed, blessed peace for the moment. Blessed peace for my journey. Even so, dear Jesus, I come needy to your feet this day. May your peace be my portion and your healing my freedom song. Amen. So be it.
post signature
entrusted {word for 2011}

entrusted {word for 2011}

From my perch on the couch, I watched him trim her nails. Never in her eight years on this earth did I recall him trimming baby girl’s nails. She was caught off-guard as well, looking at me occasionally as if to say, “Daddy isn’t doing this right…” or “What’s with the nail file?” And while I should have been grateful for his willingness to help, instead I was sad. Really sad, and I began to cry.
“I should be doing this, Billy. I always do this for her. You’re doing it wrong. I want to do this.”
He offered his apologies, understanding that there was something greater going on inside of me than just a compulsion for nail clipping. He knew that my mothering heartstrings were pulling hard and that his helpfulness was a direct reflection on just how little energy I have for the small things of life these days. That out of his great love for me, he wanted to spare me the details and allow me room enough to focus on the stuff that really matters. What he doesn’t understand is that nail-clipping really does matter to me; not because I’m an expert. Rarely have I acquiesced to a manicurist’s touch. No, my daughter’s nails matter to me because there are just some jobs that belong to me as her mother. Some things that I’ve always done… still need to do, because in doing them, I feel like I matter. Like I’m needed. Like I belong to something bigger than myself. Like my being here has purpose, even if that purpose seems small to others. Perhaps you understand.
We all need jobs that belong to us… need a focus and a reason to stir our hearts into action each day that we live on this earth. Without our attachments along these lines, we default to couch-livin’ and ample tears. We pass on the duties that are supposed to be ours rather than living out the responsibilities that are within our reaches and tethered closely to our hearts. God made our hearts for good work—for putting our hands to the plow and breaking up the unplowed earth beneath our feet. He understands that faith is best preserved when faith is liberally sown. Thus, he’s given each of us a job.
A similar job. We may travel all manners of terrain to get there, may institute a wide variety of regimens to accomplish our goals, but at the end of the day… at the end of this life, our life’s work really boils down to one, main objective.
To know God and then out of that knowing lead others to know the same. (I wrote about that here).
Accordingly, as I look to the New Year and as I have been reflecting on this one job that God has given me, several scriptures (with one overriding theme) have come into focus to serve as my anchor verses for the year. Read them to discover a common thread:
“You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men….” (Matthew 5:14-16a).
“Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.” (Matthew 28:19-20a).
 “So from now on we regard no one from a worldly point of view. Though we once regarded Christ in this way, we do so no longer. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation the old has gone, the new has come! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation… And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation. We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us.” (2 Corinthians 5:16-20).
“Now I rejoice in what was suffered for you, and I fill up my flesh what is still lacking in regard to Christ’s afflictions, for the sake of his body, which is the church. I have become its servant by the commission God game me to present to you the word of God in its fullness.” (Colossians 2:24-25).
And finally,
“So then, men ought to regard us as servants of Christ and as those entrusted with the secret things of God. Now it is required that those who have been given a trust must prove faithful.” (1 Corinthians 4:1-2).
Entrusted.
My “word” and my focus for 2011; not just with any task, but with the high and holy task of telling others the reason behind the hope that I hold in my heart. A weighty assignment for certain, but one that is required of me because of my status as a daughter of the King. I hold a great Truth inside of me. Sharing about Him isn’t an option for any believer. We think that it sometimes is… that sometimes we get a pass because we didn’t go to seminary and get the professional degree or receive official ordination from a committee. But kingdom work of this kind belongs to all of us. It’s simply time for me to get a bit more serious about it all. Wouldn’t you agree?
As I reflect back to my anchor verses for 2010(1 Cor. 6:19-20), I had no idea at the time of my selecting them just exactly what would be required of me to honor them. My body… a temple of the Holy Spirit? Honoring God with my body because I was bought at a price—the very blood of God’s own Son? Have mercy, I imagine it a good thing I didn’t fully grasp the breadth and depth of what that would mean for me on the front side of 2010. It’s only now, standing on the backside of an almost indescribable year of suffering faith that I’m even able to hold a bit of insight along these lines. I imagine I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make the puzzle pieces fit together neatly, but I am confident that they will… fit. One day… on the backside of my earthly tenure.
Until then, I’m going to be busy with God’s business… with the sacred trust that’s been entrusted to me. No more couch livin’ and ample tears because I’ve handed off the responsibility to someone else. Instead, the clippers are in my hands for the trimming. For the mattering. For the needing. For the belonging to something… Someone bigger than myself. For the only purpose that truly matters on the front side of my living this thing out—
to know God and then out of that knowing, lead others to know the same.
Therefore, I no longer regard anyone from a worldly point of view. I view them from God’s point of view and that, my friends, is a rich perspective from which to anchor a year’s view.
Entrusted. Oh God keep me faithful to the truth I’ve been given. Keep my brothers and sisters as well. As always…
Peace for the journey,
post signature

planning for more… content with less

Last Friday, I loaded up on my pain meds and had my mother taxi me to the local Michael’s craft store. Sunday morning loomed on the horizon, and I needed a few Christmas activities to keep young hearts and hands engaged. I took my time, making sure to pick out things I would like to do, knowing that my enthusiasm as the children’s Sunday school teacher would translate over to them. Over the next twenty-four hours, I read my lesson, made notes, and photocopied the corresponding papers to go along with the day’s activities. I even purchased McDonald’s gift cards for each one of them and stuffed them inside cute little stockings from the Dollar Tree. Sunday’s lesson was well-prepared, thought out, and greatly anticipated by my teacher’s heart. I just knew it would be a hit with everyone.

Sunday arrived, and I suppose it was a hit with the two kids that showed up. My two kids, per usual. Occasionally, another child will trickle into our midst to bolster our numbers, but not yesterday morning. It was just me, my kids, and Preacher Billy (a.k.a. their dad) working on cute crafts, eating delicious snacks, and hearing, once again, the story about the good news given to some unsuspecting shepherds on a night some 2000 years ago. And while my heart hungered for more kids to come and be a part of my plans, I wasn’t surprised by the turnout. I’ve come to expect it since our ministry move here this past June.

We (I say “we” because ministry life is so much more than my husband’s paid position) pastor a small congregation on one of the busiest streets in Fayetteville, NC. Our facility is dated, but it is large and could easily hold 400 people on a Sunday morning. Mostly, we average around 75. We came here in sort of a missional capacity—to revamp and revitalize this church with a fresh witness of God’s Spirit. Over the next few years we’ve been charged with the church’s growing and its re-establishing itself as a self-supporting, vibrant house of worship.

I suppose we thought that growth would be automatic. After all, it was clear to both of us that this was the place of God’s choosing for our next. On the front side of our arrival here, the challenge intrigued us, and we were ramped up for watching our God work a miracle in and through this little church. We’re still waiting for that big miracle—one that says on paper and with numbers that God, through us, has accomplished huge growth for the kingdom. In small ways, we’ve seen some growth. Not so much in numbers, but in the interior work of our collective hearts. We’re getting to know our new people, and they are getting to know us. It takes time to grow a church, and it takes the right motivation—love for God and love for his people.

And we certainly do love… love God and his people. But despite our loving, growth has been minimal. Thus, we wait for the movement of God, realizing that in our own strength, we can do nothing. We hope. We pray. We move forward, planning for a crowd, but being content with less. Sometimes with a less that includes only two kids who look a whole lot like my own. Who’ve heard the story of the shepherds a hundred times over. Two who are used to seeing me as their mom throughout the week and would, more than likely, desire to see someone else take the lead on Sunday mornings. Two who are still willing to humor me when it comes to my teaching style and to “craft” alongside me, even though they would prefer the company of their peers. Two who are stuck with me and their father, regardless of the ministry twists and turns that lie ahead for all of us.

Ministry life is hard at times, especially when it seems all you’ve got is the two. I know many of you attend large churches with tons of programming, a rockin’ band, and a collection plate filled to overflow. Some of your churches have two or three services, a large amount of volunteers to equip your programming, and a plethora of Sunday schools/Bible studies from which to choose. It’s not about if you have anywhere to plug into at your church, but rather, which outlet to choose. I understand. I’ve lived that life previously. But now I’m here, with my husband and with the two and with the few others who come together on Sunday mornings for worship at Christ UMC, and there are times when I wonder about it all. And I hope that it’s enough, that we’re enough. That the simple acts of obedience we follow through with on a daily basis will some day make their marks on our congregation… on our city.

But that’s an “unfolding” for another season. I’ll have to wait for those answers and that revelation, and mostly I’m OK with the waiting because I understand that Rome wasn’t built in a day and that God’s kingdom isn’t built solely through big churches and big programming. Rather, I believe that the kingdom of God is most solidly built one brick at a time. One hug at a time. One prayer at a time. One kind gesture at a time. One dollar at a time. One well-planned Sunday school lesson at a time, if only boasting the audience of the two.

The two serve as the why behind my mid-week planning for Sunday services. They are the reason behind my Friday trips to a craft store. They are the rich soil for the ministry of my heart in this season, and while I might not always feel like I’m enough for them, they are always enough for me. Accordingly, I’ll keep to it, even as I commission you to always do the same. I’ll keep planning for the crowd, expecting the crowd, but never feeling unsatisfied by the two. For with the two, a world can change.

In fact, I think my Sunday morning lesson with my two wasn’t so far off from that Bethlehem lesson for the shepherds all those years ago. We don’t know how many of them showed up at the manger (whether two or four or an entire passel of sheep-tenders), but we do know that they left that moment “spreading the word concerning what had been told them about this child and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them.”

Indeed, a small beginning—a tiny gathering of recipients—for the greatest revelation known to mankind. I don’t imagine that God ever wondered if it was enough. Instead, he was content for truth to fall into the hearts of a few, knowing that in seasons to come, truth would expand its witness throughout the ages to include the hearts this generation. Our hearts. Yours and mine. Christ kept to his plan; he keeps to it this day… one brick at a time until the kingdom is fully built. I’m so glad that he didn’t get hung up on numbers back then but that, instead, he got hung up on a tree… for me, for you. His ministry may have been collective in scope but it remains personal in priority and nature to each one of us.

May we always be found willing to follow his lead by reconciling our ministries and our hearts to the one or two who show up for the receiving. In the end, we will probably be surprised by the far-reaching effects of our simple acts of obedience therein. Keep to it, sweet friends, keep planning for God’s more in the midst of your seemingly less. He is faithful to complete that which he began in you. And while you might not always be aware of what your single, simple faith is yielding in others, he is. And for that you will be richly rewarded. Have a blessed walk to Bethlehem this week, and as always…

Peace for the journey,

post signature

on writing words…

Words.
I don’t have many of them these days, at least not the written kind. If you were here in person, I’d have plenty to say, but as it pertains to my writing them, I’m struggling. I don’t know if the chemo is to blame or the busyness of the season, but safe to say, either one of those might be reason enough to warrant a dry spell as far as my pen is concerned.
I hate that; there’s nothing worse for a writer than to be void of words. Certainly, I have plenty of good thoughts that come my way—inclinations that, in seasons previous, would have easily written into worthy prose. But now, as quickly as they come, they seem to vanish. By the time I arrive at my computer screen, I get confused and messed up all over again… frustrated by this new reality.
So, rather than writing nothing, I thought I’d write about my frustration, thus allowing me a moment or two of connection with you this week. I wish I had something more profound to say, something that would leave you breathless and wanting more of your Jesus. He’s certainly worthy of the chase, and it has always been my endeavor to lead you in the pursuit. And for all the things that I could tell you this morning (that currently have vacated my thought coffers), I will remind you of this one thing that I remember most prominently…
Regardless of how you and I might be feeling in this moment, regardless of life situations and difficulties, no matter the ills and aches of the flesh or the problems that land at the doors of our faith, our God is still faithful to deliver a word of hope and comfort to us via his Word every time we’re faithful to open it up for a read. Unlike my many words, or lack therein, God’s Word is never void of purpose, never lacking in pointedness or punctuation. God’s Word wasn’t written out of frustration or from a drying ink well.
When and where God had thoughts, man had inspiration. His computer screen (a.k.a. parchment or stone tablets) was never empty. Even before man put God’s divinely inspired thoughts to paper, the Word was there from the very beginning. He hovered over the dark and the deep, contemplating the many words to come. Never was he confused or messed up or frustrated by the reality of what was to be written. There was order to his thoughts, his plans, his actions; no chemo brain or busyness to impede the flow of his thought processes. Only a sanctioned progression of thinking until an accumulation of those thoughts became words that spoke light and sky, land and sea, stars and moon, plants and animals, man and woman into creation.
We didn’t arrive here, nor do we hold the things that we hold this day, because God had writer’s block and couldn’t think of anything else about which to speak. No, we are here at his determination, and I am thankful for the daily reminder of that gift—for the various Bibles that line my bookshelf and for the one that lies open within arm’s reach. I don’t have to travel very far in order to fill my heart with perfect truth. All I have to do is to make room for it; take time for it; prefer it over other activity. In doing so, I open up my thoughts toward heaven and allow Jesus to lead me in my pursuit of all things his… all things sacred. And that, my friends, is the one thing I could write you about today that leaves me breathless and wanting for more.
Jesus Christ, the Word made flesh, dwelling amongst us for a season; living within us for always.
Truly, is there anything else I could pen that would be more pertinent, more potent for your faith journey? When we stray even a step or two away from that reality with our thinking, then our words (whether written or spoken) become vacant of great purpose, leaving recipients void of anything more lasting than a momentary fill of the temporal. Heaven knows, there’s plenty of that floating around this time of year. Accordingly, we must be all the more intentional about our pursuit of the lasting Truth, about choosing our words carefully (those we read; those we speak; those we write).
I don’t ever want you to leave my blog feeling that you hold less of Jesus than when you arrived. I don’t ever want you to come here looking just for me, alone, without Jesus. I want my words to be about the journey we walk together, Jesus and me. And when they don’t, when words fail me and I am tempted to make it all about me, then I implore my Heavenly Father for a holy hush to take up residence here. Why? Because you don’t need any more filler in your life; you certainly don’t need more of me and my endless blah, blah, blah. What you need is Jesus… the Way, the Truth, the Life. He is your pathway home; I’m only required to serve as one lamppost along the way.
Thus, I will endeavor to keep doing what I’ve been doing for nearly three years now—writing a few words of witness in keeping with my kingdom conferment. Forgive me for the times when they write less; grant me grace for the occasions when they fill you temporarily. My flesh isn’t always the best conduit for faith’s dispersion. Even so, I get to try, and with God’s pulse living inside of me, there are a few occasions when I come close to getting it right. Thus, I offer this simple prayer in accordance with the pulse of my heart…
Even so, Lord Jesus, let the further words of my mouth, the continuing meditations of my heart, be found acceptable in your sight. I want to honor you with my pen in this place. I want to honor the pulse you placed within my heart so long ago. Guard me against inerrant teaching; keep me from penning anything that would deliberately dishonor the call that you’ve placed upon my life to know you more. You’ve entrusted me with much. May I always be found willing to guard that trust with sacred reverence and to dispense it accordingly. You are the Word behind my many words. Let your truth shine forth through me and through my pen. Amen. 
~elaine
PS: My friend, Cindy @ Letters from Mid-life, is a beautiful photographer. Recently, I received some Scripture note cards, displaying her photography. You can get a peek at them by clicking on her etsy link here. I’m giving away two sets (each set contains 5 cards) this week to comments on this post. I love sending cards to others and am always in the market for original work by artists. These would make a great gift for someone’s stocking this year. Please take time to visit her work. Shalom.
error: Content is protected !!