living God’s truth | Elaine Olsen

Praying my Peace…

August 24, 2010

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Phil. 4:6-7)

Before I write my heart to you this morning, I need you to know this one thing up front:

I’m writing from a place of prayerfulness and peacefulness in the Lord… emphasis on the “fullness.” With prayer comes peace. It’s God’s promise to us as his children. Several years ago, I memorized this portion of Scripture because it was a promise I could hang my heart on—a truth that has proven truthful to me time and again as I have been faithful to meet the requirement therein…

To pray about everything.

Prayer is directly connected to the thoughts of our hearts and minds. Keeping connected to the King in prayer is a fail-safe way of taking all thoughts captive and making them obedient to Christ. When we’re talking to him, listening to him, sharing life with him in the most personal of ways, we experience one of the purest, most holy avenues of worship we’ll ever know on this side of eternity. When we pray, we acknowledge our humanness and our righteousness all in the same breath. Prayer is the link between our flesh and our faith, between our hearts and God’s.

Prayer is a gift and a privilege and the one reason I am able to type this next sentence with a strong measure peace in my heart.

My good and kind friends, I have breast cancer.

Yesterday marked the beginning of my official diagnosis. Today marks the beginning of my living within the reality of what all of that means. I imagine it’s been with me while—the cancer—hiding quietly in the lower quadrant of my right breast. Three weeks ago a mammogram detected a discrepancy which led to further tests which led to a biopsy which led to yesterday’s labeling. And while it has come as a shock to my family (and rightly so) there is a deep sense of understanding and “settling” within my spirit. I can only attribute that kind of personal peace to the prayers and the faith that have been lived out prior to this moment in time.

God has well-prepared me for the road ahead, friends. I haven’t a clue as to the particulars, and I’m certain that there will be times of confusion, pain, questions, and tears. But I’m also certain that there will be times of clarity, answers, joys, and victories. This morning, I’m reminded of something that God scripted onto my heart a season back when a similar “threat” loomed on my horizon (first written in this post). He has embedded it into my thoughts over time; it will serve as an anchor for me in the days to come.

“It doesn’t matter how long God chooses to preserve my earthly life. What matters is how I choose to preserve him in the earthly life I’ve been given.”

Pray that I preserve him well each step of the way. And if you would, please pray for my family—that God would give them, each one, a similar measure of peace and strength for the journey ahead. We walk it together, you and me and them. It’s what Christians do best—corporately loving and living out our kingdom conferment. You bless me with the gift of your friendship—your sacred participation in my life; I need it now more than ever. As always…

Peace for the journey,

~elaine

a toast to daily grace…

August 3, 2010

Fantastic life stories.

Do you have one? I don’t… at least not when measured by the world’s standards. Let me explain.

By fantastic, I don’t necessarily mean grand, glorious, excellent, superb or a dozen or so other synonyms meaning the same. What I mean is more along the lines of a “brought-back-from-the-ashes” kind of fantastic. You know what I’m talking about. A life-story that includes an extreme, seemingly debilitating circumstance that is eventually overcome by the kindness and grace of God to go on to become a shining witness for all those who happen by for a look, maybe even a best-seller.

I’ve come across a lot of those stories as of late; in particular, this afternoon while perusing the shelves at a local Christian bookstore. Rows and rows of books filled with the latest “triumph over tragedy” life-stories that ask for my attention… my wallet as well. And while I am grateful for God’s extension of grace and healing into the lives of those directly affected by painful, life situations, I’m wondering why the rest of our stories don’t “shelve” alongside these best-sellers. Why doesn’t a “less-fantastic” life get as much press as a “brought-back-from-the-ashes” kind of one?

As a writer, I’ve heard a lot of talk regarding “story”—about needing to have one… about what mine is and why others would want to read it. That kind of talk always leaves me feeling a bit hollow and inferior. Why? Because my life hasn’t lived, necessarily, in accordance with “fantastic.” Don’t misunderstand me. Grace is always fantastic regardless of how it arrives in the lives of God’s children. Every last one of us has experienced a “brought-back-from-the-ashes” kind of fantastic when it comes to God’s grace and all its amazing. What I mean is that not all of us have had to endure the trauma of something horrible prior to grace’s rescue. And just in case you’re wondering, I don’t wish for a Christian witness that’s in keeping with some of the horrors that my brothers and sisters have had to endure in order to receive their “fantastic” witness. I imagine many of them would trade their previous dread for a life lived less dramatically, less needful of an edge-of-the-seat, last minute kind of intervention. Still and yet, that kind of story seems to be what sells, what readers want, what lines the shelves of my local Christian bookstore.

If that’s the case, then I don’t have much of a story, at least not one that would sell. Certainly, I could talk about being the mother of four kids, but that’s not very original. I could talk about being a pastor’s wife, but that’s been done before. I’ve walked through a divorce, but these days that’s nothing new, certainly not headline worthy. I suppose if you’re the one walking through a divorce, it is. Sixteen years ago, it was a big, huge deal for me, but I’m mostly past that now. I don’t want to write about it, anymore than you’d want to read about it. It’s just not that fantastic. Today I live and walk in the grace that’s been afforded to me via the cross and in the spirit and freedom of Romans 8:1-2:

“Therefore, there is now no commendation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death.”

So I’m wondering; perhaps you are as well…

What makes a life a worthy read? Why does one merit more press than another? Why do some stories garner the attention of readers while others get passed over? What if you had to “sell” your story to a publisher? Why would anyone choose to read your “life” over another one that has lived, perhaps, a bit more “fantastically?”

It’s not a fair question, for I happen to believe that all stories of grace are worthy of print. Funny how we get hung up on ranking the witness of God’s grace. Maybe you aren’t that shallow. Maybe you see the bigger picture. Maybe I’m just on a bit of a soap box tonight, but truthfully, I’ve grown a bit weary with it all.

I don’t need a story of “fantastic” grace to buoy me along in my faith journey. Rather, a story of daily grace will do me just fine. A day-in, day-out, walking it through kind of story that has lived a lifetime worth of days within the boundaries of holy living. An everyday life lived in an everyday way because a long time ago the lead character in the story made a decision to live an everyday Jesus in every kind of way. Not fantastically; just daily.

I imagine that’s most of you. Thank God for that… for a life that has lived free from some of the hardships of our brothers and sisters, from some of the prodigal lifestyles chosen by them as well. If today you’re living and breathing the same witness of faith that you lived yesterday… that you lived ten years ago, maybe even fifty years ago, then to God be the glory, and pass me your book please! What makes your story a worthy read (at least in my opinion) is your steadfastness to keep on doing what pleases God, come what may. To never stray too far off the path of grace, thus sparing yourself the need for a dramatic rescue from the heavenlies. To be content to live godly, even though it may never garner you the attention of the world.

Make no mistake… if you’re living godly, you’re being noticed. God is paying attention to your every chapter, even if you or others currently consider them mundane and ordinary. He’s adding the color along the way and as you go, and one day soon, you’ll see the fruition of his “fantastic” spin on your story. When you get home to him, you’ll find your book, shelved there alongside those of the ancients of old. It won’t go unnoticed or unpublished. It won’t be tucked away or forgotten or overshadowed by those whose stories you once deemed more worthy of recognition. No, your story of daily grace will stand front and center… in the very hands of God, and he will call it good and finished and a perfect fit in keeping with his kingdom library.

And that, my friends, is the making of a fantastic life story—one that begins and ends with our Father’s commendation. It may not make the shelves of Borders, but you can be certain it will make the shelves of heaven. I, for one, cannot wait to sit ringside with you and hear our Father read your story aloud for all of creation’s notice. Your life is just that good… just that worthy.

Believe it. Live it all the more. Here’s my toast to your beautiful, noteworthy life lived with God’s daily grace. I love you and thank you for investing good kingdom seed into the soil of my heart. As always…

Peace for the journey,

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Investing…

July 26, 2010

I asked him to repeat his name to me, not because I didn’t hear him but, rather, because I didn’t think I heard him correctly.

Doris. Or Dorrace.

That’s what he said. I “googled” it upon returning home; apparently Doris was a popular name for boys in the 1930’s. Seems in keeping with the age I determined him to be in our moments of exchange. He was hunkered down over his cart while pushing it through the paint aisle at Lowes when he stopped just short of me.

“Ma’am, can I ask you a question?… What color would you paint a bathroom?”

I knew there was more to his question than just paint, but it served as our starting point. Every good conversation starts somewhere (usually with a question), and ours started with paint. He showed me his card of samples; I showed him mine. His included shades of brown. Mine included shades of green. We covered the generic questions in keeping with paint conversation, and then the dialogue moved to a deeper level.

“Haven’t painted the house in years, but I’ve been taking on more projects these days. It’s just me now, so it doesn’t much matter the color I choose. But she’s still with me, you know. I don’t think she’d mind all the changes. I talk to her about it every day.”

“Your wife?”

“Yep. Almost sixty years of living together. She died a year ago, but she’s still with me. She’s on the mantle in the den.”

Another starting point for a more pointed conversation… one that lasted a good thirty minutes. We covered a lot of ground in that time. Mostly I just listened to his lonely heart. Words about extended family members who’d been here for a recent visit. A collection of Hummels his wife had collected over the years. Life in Fayetteville, the traffic, and then a final probing question from my heart to his.

“What about friends, Doris? You’ve lived here so long; you must have some good friends to spend your days with.”

“Oh, I don’t have many friends. I live a pretty lonely life, but I’ve got her with me everyday. Whenever I feel alone, I just talk to her.”

And my heart broke into a thousand pieces as I listened. I reached into my purse, grabbed a piece of paper and wrote my name, along with my husband’s name and phone number, onto it and handed it to Doris.

“You’ve got two friends now, Doris, and when you get that bathroom painted, we’d really love to stop by for a visit and take a look. Everyone needs a few good friends, and I’d like to be yours.”

He said that he’d call; I hope that he does, but I don’t imagine he will. Something tells me he’s not quite ready to let a stranger through the front door. That’s OK with me; I much prefer the access of a back door friend. Back door friends talk about everything… soul things, whether over a cup of coffee at Starbucks or in the paint aisle at Lowes. Perhaps thirty minutes was all that was meant for our paths… his crossing mine and mine crossing his.

Sacred intersections… that’s what I call them. Two roads that collide to further God’s kingdom work. A moment that stands at a crossroads where two hearts connect intentionally, purposefully, non-coincidentally, perfectly timed and orchestrated by God and feeling as natural as the air we breathe. I’ve had a few of them in recent days. Not as many as I would like, but just enough to remind me of what I’m supposed to be doing with my days…

Investing.

In others.

Not just in things, or endeavors, or plans, or goals, but more importantly, investing my time and energies into people. I cannot always pick when that happens, don’t always have the luxury of planning my sacred intersections. I much prefer it that way. Plans can sometimes be full of pretense and projected outcomes. I’d rather let the intersections arrive as they will and along the way. God knows when they’re coming; he sees them from afar and is more than capable of making sure that my heart is prepared for their arrival.

So tonight I think about Doris. I think about the joy I would have missed if his cart had not connected with mine. I think about my big God who sat back and watched the exchange… entered into the exchange, even though his voice deferred to mine in that moment. And I am thankful for the privilege of being his conduit of kingdom dispensation.

He’s trusted me with so much… the mystery and the secrets of the kingdom. He has committed to me the ministry of reconciliation… of being his mouthpiece as though he were making his appeal through me (2 Cor. 5:18-20). I cannot conceive of his choice, his trust and his willingness to allow me any measure of influence upon this earth. Instead, I can only receive it as yet another grace from his heart.

I don’t always get it right, friends, don’t always speak God’s witness as I should. Sometimes I keep my silence; sometimes I say too much, but every now again, a Doris-moment comes along, and I know that it was pretty close to perfect.

His path crossing mine; mine crossing his.

An investment of the richest kind.

I may never stand before a crowd of thousands or see my name in lights on this side of eternity, but you can be certain I’ll wake up every day to have that kind of sacred intersection. Some days it’s all I can do, all that I have to give, all that keeps me going when little else in my life is making sense, and trust me when I tell you that life doesn’t “feel” sensible right now. Even so, I pray the Lord to keep me to all that I can do and all that I have to give and to let my tomorrow be filled with more intersections and investments of the kingdom kind.

The Doris kind.

I pray the same for all of you this week. As always…

Peace for the journey,

~elaine

PS: Thank you for all of the kind comments on “the Goody Bag” and for visiting Judith’s new blog. I made sure to include your name in the drawing, whether you posted a comment here and/or there. Miss Amelia just drew the winner prior to going to bed. Jennifer @ The Spirit of Truth is the winner. Send me your address, Jennifer, via e-mail, and I’ll have your book to you this week. 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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the broken road of faith…

July 12, 2010

“Faith moves forward… faith anchors itself in the unseen. Faith doesn’t base its hope in emotion but in the truth.”

That was my answer this morning to the question that was raised in Sunday school regarding the definition of faith. I spoke it rather mechanically, almost as if rehearsed over and over again prior to its departure from my lips. I suppose I’ve been practicing it for a while now, not just with words, but in my spirit as well.

It’s a good thing… this rehearsing of faith in an earlier, seemingly unchallenged season. Why? Because when uncertainties arise to challenge that faith, we need the advantage of a previously rehearsed faith. We need the anchor of truthful words when feelings pull us in the opposite direction.

I’ve been challenged lately… been hoping for some tangible validation to my deeply-held spiritual convictions. It’s not that God’s been unwilling to validate my inward pulse; no, instead, it’s been a great deal about my unwillingness to take the time to listen to his. Life and busyness and stress have shouted their insistence, almost to the point of sweeping me under the rug of doubt. I’ve caved many times, succumbed to my tears and frustration and feelings of numbness.

It’s hard to continue an old life in a new place. On the front side of my ellipsis nearly three weeks ago, I imagined this transition would be easier. I naively placed the enemy at bay, believing that my faith was unshakeable, unbendable, unwavering and steadfast. But naivety has little, if any, place in the life of a believer… especially one who is intent on the ongoing pilgrimage of faith’s perfection. Troubling times are sure to come, and while my “troubling” might categorize as insignificant to those who are troubled with a seemingly far worse scenario, it ranks pretty noteworthy for me.

“Whatever trips you up.”

This is what I’ve always told my Bible study gals (if you’re one of them, I miss you tremendously and am sending a heart full of love to you this night). We all have our triggers, and we can be sure that the enemy knows them full well and is ready to exploit them every chance he’s given. I suppose I’ve been more prone to opening up the door to his advances in recent days. Exhaustion has set in, and whenever we’re physically and emotionally tired—when the pavement beneath our feet feels more like rubble rather than smoothness—we’re prone for a misstep along these lines.

That being said, a “trip up” isn’t the end of a heart’s faith. A good faith acknowledges the imbalance early on. A good faith pauses to recognize the incongruencies between what is true and what is purported as truth. A good faith doesn’t linger too long in the rubble; instead a good faith picks itself up and moves forward, doing what it has always done.

Believing further. Looking higher. Walking onward.

Faith keeps going, and faith keeps speaking the truth, even when feelings lag behind.

That is what I did this morning. I spoke my faith despite my feelings, and as I did… something broke in me. Tears began to water my cheeks, and for the first time in a long while, God’s Spirit resonated tenderly with mine. I felt him nearby, and my heart was renewed for the journey ahead.

Sometimes, friends, we need to live our faith out loud and in living color, even when unfamiliar faces serve as our audience. I cannot pretend to be otherwise. Sometimes, my faith isn’t pretty or commendable. Sometimes it lags behind the expectations of others. But always, it lives out loud, and I just have to believe that somewhere in the living and telling of my story, someone else will benefit from the honesty.

There is no set of blueprints that perfectly defines how your faith and mine faith will cadence through until the end. We cannot predict on the front end (nor would we want to) of our ellipses all the “rough and tumble” of our tomorrows. But of this one thing we can be certain…

No matter the stones that present themselves on the path of faith, no matter the potholes and the gravel that serve as precursors to a personal fall, the One who stands at the end of the road is worth it. God is what keeps me going. I may be bloodied from the fall and the wounds may run deep, but you can be sure that I will rise again to a new day’s journey until my feet and my faith have landed me safely home. That is what I told my new friends this morning when the teacher (perhaps stunned and uncomfortable with my tears) thanked me for staying the course of faith.

“He is so worth it. God is the real deal; the only thing I’ve got going on.”

Perhaps this day some of you, like me, boast the bloody knees of a recent fall. Let not your hearts be completely troubled by the stumble; instead, believe further, look higher, walk onward. Remember the truth of your yesterday’s faith, and allow it to be the underpinning that moves you forward this week. Don’t linger too long in your guilt; let God’s forgiveness and love for you be the foundational truth from which you monitor your progress this week. You can never stumble so far as to miss the reach of God. You can never fall too far from his heart so as not to be pulled back into his loving embrace. The enemy would have you think otherwise, but the enemy is a liar. Tell him so, and then keep going. Keep speaking the truth out loud and on purpose, even when your feelings lag behind.

Faith comes through hearing, and hearing through the Word of God (Romans 10:17).

Be careful to listen to his voice this week; be willing to speak it all the more. As always…

Peace for the journey,

PS: I heard God’s voice this past week through the 32 Killian family members that gathered on the shores of SC for a family reunion, but no time more profoundly then the final night when we gathered for a family sing. I pray it blesses your heart as it did mine. Be sure and hang on for the final song by our beloved, Joni… our own Sandi Patty! Shalom.

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