living God’s truth | Elaine Olsen

the purest place…

October 7, 2009

The purest place.

The place from which I want to write my words. Greater still, the place from which I want to live my life. To write and live otherwise is hypocrisy.

Hypocrite. The word hupokrites meaning “one who acts pretentiously, a counterfeit, one who assumes and speaks or acts under a feigned character; a dissembler, pretender.”

I’m not a pretender; I live out loud before my God and before you. The me you find here isn’t the sanitized, polished version of me. Some are uncomfortable with that; some would rather see me otherwise. No, what you find here is a woman on the road toward perfection. Some days getting it right; most days living beneath that “right”. If there is any good living in me, it is solely based on the sanitization that has come to me through the blood and righteousness of Jesus Christ. He, alone, is my worthiness.

To write from a place of perfection is to never write at all. If “having it all figured out” were the prerequisite for blog entries, then none of us should ever pick up the pen again. I’m not kidding. What kingdom profit is there in our pretending? What can be gained from prettying up our “pictures” other than to stroke our egos via the compliments of others? I don’t want to write from a place of pretension. I don’t want to read it as well. I just want to live real and to be in a community of people who feel the same way.

This means, there will be days when I struggle…

with Sundays.
with worship.
with sin.
with disappointments.
with regrets.
with anger.
with love.
with parenting.
with selfishness.
with unkind words.
with unclean thoughts.
with unforgiveness.
with _____________.

This also means there will be days when I joyously overflow…

with Sundays.
with worship.
with freedom.
with hope.
with promise.
with kindness.
with love.
with parenting.
with selflessness.
with encouragement.
with purity of thought.
with grace.
with ______________.

You’ll find it all when you come here because my all is what I have to give you, not some sanitized version therein. This is my life; my walk of grace; my journey toward peace. No one thing, one experience, one difficulty gets a pass. It’s all open ground for God’s kingdom purposes.

Our days and nights, nights and days, are filled with the stuff of our becoming. Our moving closer into the image of Christ. Our being shaped and fitted for a bridal gown worthy of the aisle of heaven. We don’t get that dressing overnight, friends. In fact, until we shed this flesh, we live each day exposed, half-dressed for the entire world to see. I think God has created our flesh for public disclosure. In doing so, you and I become a living witness and testimony to the power of God’s transforming work in our lives.

But we’ve perfected our cover-ups, and they are easily detected by God and others. It’s painful to watch, painful to read, painful because there is no healing, no moving onto perfection, as long as the hiding of our “stuff” takes precedence over the exposure therein.

I’m not suggesting that your “putting it all out there” in a public forum is the best way for you to work through your problems; some issues are better dealt with in the privacy of your own sacred space with God. Some things are too raw for public viewing. What I am suggesting, though, is that when you and I do take the steps to “work out” our salvation with our words and our honest approach to the process, grace and kindness should be the portion we afford one another; not judgment or condemnation.

The purest place. The inner chamber where the living God resides and where faith’s illumination and grace’s redeeming work is accomplished.

If we cannot write our words from that place because we fear the words of others in this place, then we live as hypocrites. Counterfeits. Characters on a stage that, when the curtain is drawn and the applause has subsided, go home to live in isolation and emptiness. And I, for one, refuse to resign my life to isolation.

I choose exposure. To God and to you. For some of you, that’s not an easy swallow. Your palate prefers a smoother, more digestible menu. I understand, and I graciously excuse you from the table. But for the few of you who’ve made it this far, who’ve hung with me and who think there just might be something to this “being real” with one another, then stick around. There’s more to come because, God willing, I have a few more seasons to walk. And whether I want them to or not, words find me on the path. Fill me, and then force me to pen them for public disclosure.

The sustaining prayer of my heart is that when I do dip the pen into the inkwell of my thoughts—when I choose public disclosure over private rumination—my words will write from the purest place within. The place where my heart intersects with the heart of God and where the resulting conclusion births kingdom seed.

You are my friends. I value your presence in my life. I value your life. This isn’t a game for me, and certainly isn’t about painting you a perfect picture. It’s solely about living God’s truth out loud and on purpose with the hope of encouraging your heart to do the same.

May the words of my mouth, and the meditations of my heart, always be found acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer. Amen. So be it. As always…

peace for the journey,

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“hupokrites” from… Spiros Zodhiates, The Complete Word Study Dictionary Old Testament (Chattanooga: AMG Publishers, 1992), 1423-1424.

a simpler season of Sundays

October 5, 2009

{me and sis in a simpler season}

“Could you just come for me?”

The clarity of his question startled me. I wasn’t expecting it in my early morning hours. Instead, I was content to marinate the thoughts that assaulted me as I awoke from a restless night’s slumber, one enhanced by the fact that my young adult sons arrived home around 2:00 AM following a U2 concert.

I’m not a good sleeper. On any given night, I’m glad to receive a solid, four to five hours. So when the routine tumbles out the window for any number of reasons, I’m toast. Add to it a lot of miscellaneous extras and a Sunday morning routine that calls for more chaos than usual, well, you can imagine the thoughts I was harboring.

Cranky thoughts. Deliberate thoughts. Thoughts that serve no good purpose other than to whip me into an emotional frenzy prior to my car ever arriving in the church parking lot. And while this attitude isn’t a good fit for any of us who hold worship as sacrosanct and as a deeply-rooted tenet of our Christian experience, the truth is that there are some Sundays when I approach church with resentment rather than with expectation.

Some Sundays proffer more like work rather than worship. Anybody else?

When I was a child, I loved going to church, and most days, I still do. My parents didn’t have to twist my arm or coax my participation. Church is what we did; it still is. Not because we’re bound by legalism, but rather because we’re bound to the One who entreats our communal participation with other believers.

While growing up, church seemed less complicated. For me, it meant seeing my friends, sharing some laughs, and celebrating the simplicity of being together… and actually liking it. Somewhere along the way and as I grew older, church became more tricky. More problematic. More thorny and more self-centered. As my intellect grew alongside of my flesh, so did my ideas about how things should work. How church should be. How services should flow. How people should act and how preachers should preach.

After forty-three years of “doing church”, I’ve amassed a rather lengthy list of “shoulds”. I recognize this in me, and for the most part, the list has been drastically reduced and tempered by the gracious grace of God. But every now and again, it flares, and rather than approaching church with sacred expectation, I come through its doors with an expectation of failure—my deciding on the front end of worship that the “menu” for the morning’s events aren’t going to pass muster with my prerequisites. On those Sundays, my heart is hardened by the preliminary thoughts preceding my arrival, thus blocking my heart’s soil from the tilling of a Father’s love.

I don’t like it. It’s not pretty. It’s certainly not befitting for this woman who is in desperate pursuit of her God; still and yet, this is where I found myself this morning. A struggle I don’t want and one that sometimes gets the best of me.

Sometimes, but not today. Today, God interrupted my preceding thoughts with a thought of his own. A question he voiced early on in the unspoken banter that was taking place between me, myself, and I.

“Could you just come for me?”

A clear, simple, direct question posed to me from the heart of God, just as clearly as I’ve ever heard his “voice” within me. And with those six words, the matter was settled.

“Yes, God, I’ll come for you.”

I cannot tell you much else about my morning other than those six words from him and my six words of response. They kept repeating themselves over and over again throughout the morning and the rest of my day, drowning out any refrain to the contrary. It’s been a rich gift to me and helped me to refocus my thoughts around the true meaning of worship.

Today hasn’t been about coming to church. Today has been all about coming to God. About responding to the call from the King for an intimacy that cannot be found via our “shoulds” and menus and the complicated ways we approach the worship process. True intimacy and worship comes from an obedient heart that is willing to push aside cranky thoughts in order to receive the hand of fellowship from Almighty God.

Today, my church experience found its way back to a simpler season… a time when Sundays didn’t require my work, only my willing participation. My expectations were exceeded, and my hope was renewed.

Couldn’t we all use a dose of sacred simplicity? Of getting back to a basic understanding that church isn’t all about us, and instead, really is all about our coming to God? I know you’ve heard it before (I’m pretty sure it was the premise of a recent, best-selling Christian book…), but today, I’ve lived it again fully, with a fresh perspective and a newness of heart that have stoked my heart for continuing compliance.

“Yes, God, I’ll come for you.”

May all of our thoughts, cranky and otherwise, be settled by these six words of chosen and joyful obedience, not just on Sundays, but on everyday that is given us through the gracious grace of Father God. Walk your week well, friends. Walk it toward Jesus. As always,

peace for the journey,

PS: My good friend, Elizabeth, has written a post regarding her Sunday worship. Apparently, we’ve had a similar day. You can read it HERE!

hunger pains…

October 2, 2009

Not long ago, my friend Beth asked her blog readers a question…

What are you eating at your house?

My response?

Condiments.

Ketchup. Mustard. Mayonnaise and relish. The meat to go with? Well, it was the end of the month, and as the family budget dictates, the cupboards wear thin by month’s end. Really, it’s not as bad as all that, but for any family living on a budget (and a single-income one at that), you “get” where I’m coming from.

We stretch our dollars to the max and then some, and are continually grateful for God’s ample provision that never fails to show up in time and on time. We’ve never been without. But there are days when my wants cry out for more.

For fullness instead of depletion.
For increase instead of decrease.
For variety instead of monotony.
For more instead of less.

Condiments serve little purpose when standing alone. They are best appreciated when serving their intended purpose—as a flavor, a topping; as a way of trimming the delicacy that lies beneath.

Meat. The main course. The stuff that fills us, that keeps us moving and upright and full of energy for the day ahead. Without it, we live less. We grow thin and irritable and become consumed by a gnawing ache that surpasses any reasonable response in the matter. Bare cupboard living never suffices the hungering needs of our flesh. Condiments serve temporarily and leave us wanting for more. They weren’t meant to fill, only to flavor.

As it goes with our flesh, so it goes with our faith. Bare cupboard living speaks to the hungering condition of our souls. As we expend our resources on the front side of our bounty, without pausing to refuel on the backside, we ultimately find ourselves empty and depleted. Left unattended, our hunger can morph into a prickly dissonance that quickly forces our confusion rather than bringing us around to a trusting, God-filled conclusion.

We banter about, moving from one moment to the next attempting to fill our plates with the temporal flavors from the condiment bar, all the while missing out on the main course that awaits our choosing. Hungering confusion breeds hasty consumption, and haste never births lasting fulfillment. There are no quick fixes to a famished soul. Lasting satiation comes from a willing duration at the feet of the Father.

What he gives us there is main … is meat … is the richest of fare, without need of further flavoring. God doesn’t fill us with end-of-the-month left-overs and extras. Instead, his food serves fully and completely, leaving us satisfied and prepared for the day ahead. Our hunger spaces evenly when fed through the hands of God. When fed elsewhere, our hunger lingers, never tasting the heavenly portion that was intended for our overflow.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve had my fill of condiments in recent days. Thankfully, God has sent a new month to our household and to my soul. Both are in need of refueling. I plan on trading in some ketchup for some kingdom feasting! My hunger indicates my need, and my need tells me to park my plate beneath the truth of God’s Word for the filling.

And just in case you’re wondering, the buffet is open to all. Leave your relish behind and join me at the table of God’s grace this weekend. His ladle serves hot, and his Word satisfies abundantly. As always…

peace for the journey,

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a gracious grace revisited…

September 28, 2009

I want to tell you how I feel tonight.

That being said, feelings are sometimes a dangerous soil from which to write. Seeds planted there spring forth from the rawest point of the human condition, and I have not always found this to be the most profitable way to manage my emotions. I long to put parameters around my weekend, to somehow be able to express to you all that’s going on inside of me, but in doing so, I’m afraid my words will fail … won’t adequately capture the depth of what I’ve tasted.

I’m not sure I need to. Some moments are better left to the sacred sanctuary of our silence. But throughout the past forty-eight hours, and in the midst of my desire to bookmark this chapter in my life titled Little River UMC, I’ve come to a simple, yet grand conclusion about the weekend. A few words I’d like to serve as my “stone of remembrance” regarding the grace of God and just how far he has traveled on my behalf to bestow on me the gift of sacred participation in his kingdom work.

I love God and his Word more today than I did yesterday. I want to jump into the pages of Scripture and be part of the story. I want to bury my head in the midst of God’s truth until it spews out of my mouth and ears and hands and feet. I want to scour every inch of every word that’s been written in the Word until it becomes the final word behind my many words.

Why the passion? Why the urgency? Why the need?

Because yesterday God proved himself faithful … again. Yesterday, I stood as a living witness to the power and transformation of God’s Spirit existing within me. To be used by God and to know that this usefulness is happening as it happens is the greatest joy and confirmation I have ever known. It wasn’t the expressions on the faces of those who gathered that signaled to me my effectiveness; it was the impression I felt deep within my soul.

Yesterday, I made a heartfelt offering to God. In my time of preparation leading up to the event, I promised to give him my best—to be a student of his Word and then to take my “learning” and to share it liberally with his children. Tonight, my heart longs to watch the seeds of that sharing blossom into something more … perhaps some of the reason behind my stirring emotions this evening. But yesterday’s sowing belongs to another … to hands that are better able to grow all things in accordance with a master plan that exceeds my efforts at cultivation.

Father God knows best the next steps in the journey … both theirs and mine. I must trust him with the “finishing” work. In the meantime, he tells me that we’ve got some finishing to do on my end. That I should fix my eyes on the road ahead, cast a glance in a forward direction, and continue my tutelage under his capable leadership.

I want to be prepared for more moments of having my heart stirred by holy impression. Whether they come to me through a group setting, a one-on-one encounter at the local grocery store, in my home or around the table with friends, wherever and whenever kingdom seed is called for, I want my pockets full for the sowing.

I don’t want to have to do research when the world comes knocking. I want to live the research that has come to me through intentional study and preparation. I want to prepared, in season and out to give a reason for the hope that I carry within my heart.

Thus, I get back to the Word this week. I keep learning, keep listening, keep bending to the leading of my Father’s initiative. He has something more for me, and I plan on jumping into the pages of holy writ in order to find it.

Would you join me in the search? Pull up your chair alongside of me in God’s classroom to see what he might want to teach you? Would you open up the good book to a good story and take your place as an active participant in the scene? All of God’s Word stands ready for our willing participation. None of it is null and void of purpose. It’s still breathing with authenticity, with life, and with the power to change hearts, move mountains, and bring us to our knees in absolute wonder regarding its worth.

I want God’s wonder this week; I want the same for you. All of us, every last one of us, are given a measure of influence upon this earth. Let’s invest our portion toward kingdom end, and let’s do so in remembrance and thankfulness for the grace we’ve tasted. As always…

peace for the journey,

PS: You might remember me writing about Mr. Calvin and the strong impression he had on me when I visited Little River last year (click here to read). That’s him in the picture above. He found me during a session break, and when I invited him to sit in on the last session with the ladies, he went home, put on a suit and returned. Truly, he is one of God’s most precious saints. I’ll see you again, Calvin.

the preceding effects of Presence

September 24, 2009

for the one whose pain caught my attention…

I recently received an e-mail from a stranger. She needed a safe place for her thoughts; I was privileged to receive them. If ever anyone needed a “passing by” from the Lord, it was her. I imagine it still is her, for there are no easy answers to the heartfelt pleas… just a lot of pain and partial peace wrapped up together in a life that belongs to her.

I pondered her situation throughout the night hours and awoke the next morning to a familiar Scripture text found in 1 Kings 19. A long ago story about a man who deeply desired a “passing by” from his God. His “weary and well-worn” led him to the comfort of a mountain cave—a place known for its proximity to the presence of God.

“Then the LORD said, ‘Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the LORD, for the LORD is about to pass by.’ Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. Then a voice said to him, ‘What are you doing here, Elijah?’” (1 Kings 19:11-13).

God would not disappoint Elijah. Instead, God would come to him in full measure… in a way that is often missed by most of us. Whenever we read this story, we tend to focus on the whisper of God—the gentle, tender voice of comfort that is most needed in times of great despair. But in doing so, in relegating God’s whisper above the preceding manifestations of his presence, I think we miss a valuable teaching about the existence of Almighty God.

God’s living presence radiates from the core of his being, mirroring (in much smaller measure) the ripple effects we witness after a pebble is thrown into water. Where God is, isn’t defined by his frame. I have no idea what God looks like, but in my wildest imaginings, I’m tempted to give him a body—a contained perimeter in keeping with something that makes sense to me. But God is bigger than my imagination and far surpasses any box I am content to wrap around him. When God walks, the ripples of that walking extend far and wide announcing (well in advance) his arrival to the world.

And here’s what I think.

Could it be that the winds and earthquakes and fires that precede his arrival are just God’s way of letting us know he’s coming? That he is, in fact, on his way to us? That the wind cannot help but sway with the reality that his feet are on the move? That the rocks cannot help but split and crack because they better feel the weight of his gravitational pull? That fires cannot help but fan into flames because of the intensity fueling his intention? Why are we surprised when we experience the wind, the movement of the earth beneath our feet, and the heat of a fire around our souls prior to his arrival?

Earth, better than humanity, recognizes the approach of its King.

“Clouds and thick darkness surround him; righteousness and justice are the foundation of his throne. Fire goes before him and consumes his foes on every side. His lightning lights up the world; the earth sees and trembles. The mountains melt like wax before the LORD, before the Lord of all the earth.” (Psalm 97:2-5).

God’s presence extends beyond his whispers. We do not often see him in these preceding moments of our sometimes excruciating circumstances. Many of you, this day, are in the midst of some earth-shattering situations. Pain and conflict are your portion, and you are tempted to keep your eyes fixed in the present rather than looking beyond to the Presence whose comforting whispers are soon to follow.

If we could get that, if somehow we could begin to see the wind, the earthquake, and the fires of our today as the beginning manifestations of God’s rippling presence, then, perhaps, we’d anchor ourselves tighter to the truth of a soon and coming sacred whisper. Our faith would grow with the expectation that what is currently seen and felt will soon be tempered and relieved by the unseen breath of God speaking his comfort into our chaos.

God is on the move, friends. He is in the business of “passing by” your way. He comes with intention and purpose and with the rippling effects that have always preceded his arrival. This doesn’t mean his coming has caused your earthquake, it simply and profoundly means that his presence cannot be separated from the world’s notice.

And the last time I checked, the prince of this world (the one whose sole intent for our lives is to steal, to kill, and to destroy) was very disturbed by the coming of the King. When God moves, so does he. Satan is the author of chaos and confusion, and he will go to great lengths to make sure you miss the arrival of your Father.

I do not fully understand the condition of human suffering, what’s allowed us by God and what we miss because of his grace. I don’t know the length of the leash that’s been extended to the enemy. It’s a hard wrestling for me, and at the end of the day, I concede those answers to my King. But just this night as I think about my new friend and her pain and the pain of so many who are desperately running to God’s mountain in hopes of receiving God’s whispers, I cannot help but imagine the rippling effect of God’s presence.

The winds … the earthquakes … the fires that precede his whispers. And somehow I am comforted, and all seems reasonable and acceptable to me.

Hang on for God’s whispers, friends. They are coming, just beyond these rippling effects of God’s approaching steps. The earth better understands the arrival of its King. It cannot help but be shattered by the thought and, therefore, bow in surrender to his steps. Neither can I.

May God’s good comfort and abiding presence be with you all this day as you seek him on his mountain. You are my friends, and you fuel my passion for knowing our Father at the deepest level. Thank you for sharing the road with me. As always…

peace for the journey,

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