living God’s truth | Elaine Olsen

Noticing Love

May 17, 2009

“Early in the morning, Jesus stood on the shore, but the disciples did not realize that is was Jesus.” (John 21:4).

He saw her across the dimly lit restaurant. He hadn’t seen her in over a year. Last year, they shared a first grade classroom. Today, they shared only vague remembrances of one another. He’s stayed put. She’s moved on to another school.

After brief words of conversation with her family, we made our way back to the table. My eight year old son gave his best efforts at coloring the sombrero on his children’s menu and then hand delivered his gift to his friend. Moments later, she responded by doing the same. Back and forth, waves and glances, until the hour was complete, and we said our good-byes.

On the way out to our car, my son shared his thoughts with me.

“Mom, you know I kind of like that girl.”

“Son, you haven’t seen that girl in over a year, and you didn’t even remember her name. I think you’re confused.”

“No, mom, I really do like that girl.”

“How can that be, son? You’ve never even talked about her before.”

“Mom, I know when I like somebody. I’ve had love before.”

“Really? When?”

“In K4.”

And with that proclamation, the conversation ended and the contemplation began.

I’ve had love before … in K4.

What my son was saying was that this “inkling” that he felt … this notion of emotion … wasn’t the usual everyday kind of love that he carried for his friends. This was a different kind of love. A love that tugs deeper, breathes bolder, and speaks its insistence over top of the others. An unfolding type of love that, when “presented” to a heart, calls for its notice.

Jadon noticed, and tonight he has me wondering if I do the same—

Notice love when love comes knocking.

The disciples didn’t notice Love’s knocking … not at first. The confusion resulting from competing stories about his death and their hopes deferred in keeping with that death, kept their hearts at a distance; the sea was deep enough to hold their uncertainty and wide enough to harbor Love’s recognition at bay.

But then Love called, offering an invitation of familiarity—a common conversation that collided with past remembrances. Something about catching fish and casting nets and the “right” side of a boat. And with that summons and subsequent obedience, Love struck a chord deep within their hearts, calling forth a recognizable “inkling” that beckoned them shoreward to share in a meal and to bask in a few moments of tender reunion.

The gathering would be brief, but it would be more than enough time to amply seed them with the truth of Love’s embrace—a three-fold asking, a three-fold response, and a three-fold commissioning to go and to feed the Father’ sheep out of the overflow of Love’s consumption. That was the heart of the matter on a day set aside for God’s presenting Love.

When the disciples walked away from the shore’s table, they knew they had tasted Love. Why? Because like my son, they’d known Love before. They shared a classroom with him in an earlier season. He had been their teacher; they had been his willing pupils, and in the end, the kingdom of God was best served by the sacred collision of their hearts with his.

Thus, a question a two for your heart this night.

Do you notice Love when Love comes knocking? When was the last time that Love stopped your heart in its tracks and forced your perception? If Love were sitting across from you in a dimly lit restaurant, would you feel his pull and look up from your table to search out Love’s glance? Would you color Love a picture? Would you then deliver it in hopes of receiving Love back?

Or has your love for Love grown cold, distant and harboring within the waters of an uncertain tomorrow? Have you given up on Love’s embrace? Have you forgotten the sound of Love’s beckoning call? Has life hammered its cruelty so loudly that you are deafened and blinded by the truth of Love’s approach?

It’s easy to miss Love, especially when our hearts are prone to a constant wandering. If we choose the world’s classroom over God’s classroom, then we choose our handicap. Love is always presenting himself … always passing our way … always sending his notes of affection to our tables. But if we haven’t logged in some hours under his tutelage, rarely will he garner our notice. Instead, we offer him our neglect, leaving the table with but a whisper of a vague recognition that was always meant to last longer.

We could leave better, friends. God intends for us to leave with a heart full of Love’s recollection. With a pulse that shouts,

“I’ve been with Love today because I’ve known Love before.”

That is the heart of the matter for our everyday … noticing Love when Love comes knocking because Love has been our companion all along.

My prayer for your life and mine is for a blatant and sacred intersection between Love’s heart and ours. I pray for eyes to see him when he walks in a room. I pray for hearts to receive him when he knocks at the door. I pray for ears to hear him when he calls from the shore. And I pray for the “yes” to answer him when he asks for our more.

May the holy and gracious presenting Love of a Father’s heart be your portion as you walk this week. It is his joy to give you the abiding truth and fellowship of heaven’s native Son. As always,

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PS: If you want to spend some more time in God’s classroom via a long ago breakfast on the shores of Galilee, then hop over to John 21 and let the truth of that moment be the truth of your moment with Jesus today. The winner of Kennisha Hill’s “Simply Wisdom” is Joye at The Joyeful Journey. Congrats, Joye. Please send me your snail mail via my email, and I will send you Kennisha’s book. Shalom.

Ruby Tuesdays: A Mighty Woman (part seven)

May 12, 2009

“She is like the merchant ships, bringing her food from afar.” (Proverbs 31:14).

In 1957, my mom walked across the stage of Bob Jones University and received her degree in “home economics.” You heard me … “home economics.” She would later go on to share her wealth of wisdom with less than appreciative junior high and high school students. She wouldn’t teach long, at least not within the walls of a school building.

But today, some fifty years down the road, class was, once again, in session. Mom still teaching; a student still learning. The classroom? Her kitchen. The subject matter?

Freezer jam.

Strawberry jam. Jam that’s been rolling around on my taste buds for the past thirty years. I suppose that I should have learned her techniques earlier. Heaven knows, I’ve been ringside to the canning process on multiple occasions. But rather than learning her secrets as my own, I’ve been content to simply “borrow” from the fruits of her labor and to stock my freezer accordingly.

She’s always been willing for me to do so. That’s what mother’s do … feed their children, at least they should. My mom has been faithful to that doing for forty-three years now. I can always count on her to give me her best when it comes to both the bounty of her table and the overflow of her heart. She is generous on both counts.

Mom has always had a knack for making the most out of our dining table. Undoubtedly there were seasons throughout my growing up years that required her creativity alongside a fledgling budget. Meals were always balanced with ingenuity and, on occasion, were beautifully decorated by some extras. But the jam? It was always in ample supply at mealtime.

I am thankful for that. We all need some staples in our lives—some things around our nightly tables that can be counted upon to be in attendance. The main course might vary, but the “sure and the certain” should remain. Why? Well, because we are a people in need of some sure and some certain.

When we arrive at the end of our “9 to 5’s” and gather up our “empty” for the “feeding”, it’s good to imbibe the comfort of some certain. A mighty woman … a woman worthy of a ruby’s bestowing … is a woman who brings some sure and some certain into the lives of those who sit under her influence.

She searches for it; watches for it. Runs to the market for it; banks on it. The intention behind her labor springs from a heart that understands that her table serves better when it is dressed with the comfort of certainty.

My mother gave that to me; she still does. She did so today as she watched and hovered and taught and sowed some of her wisdom within the soil of my understanding. Every now and then, I saw a glint in her eye; I certainly heard it in her voice. There was something insistent and purposeful about it all, and I was blessed to sit under her tutelage.

After the process was finished, I found a scrap sheet of paper and began to write down all the “extras” that weren’t scripted into the recipe. Extras that add to the mix and make for a better outcome. Extras that belong to a mother’s wisdom and a mother’s love that are willing to share tips and secrets and “how to’s” for the dressing up of an extraordinary table. Extras that I hope to one day share with my daughter when, in a season to come, she sits in my kitchen to receive her heritage—

the sure and certain of a family’s faith that’s been sitting down at the table of grace every night with the sure and certain of some jam alongside.

Jam and Jesus. An acceptable conclusion to a day’s doing. An ample seeding for a night’s rest.

May it be so for each one of us this day. Thus, I pray…

Bring us, Father, the sure and certain of heaven’s wisdom and truth as we gather our hearts in worship around your table in this hour. Teach us for we are stubborn in our learning. Show us for we are blind in our seeing. Sow into us all of your extras that make our lives shine with the witness of having sat under your tutelage. Thank you for bringing us your “food from afar” and for feeding us with all the tender care of a Father’s great love. Strengthen our hearts to mirror the same for our families, our friends, our country, our world. Amen.

Copyright © May 2009 – Elaine Olsen

PS: Please join us for more Ruby Tuesdays’ post over at Refreshmoments. We’d love to see more participation. Mary explains it all over at her place. Also, the winner of Celia Whittler’s “One Wish for You” is skoots1mom. Please send me your snail mail, and I will get your book/cd to you in swift order. Shalom.

Leaving Seasons

May 8, 2009

“‘ … Come now; let us leave.’” (John 14:31).

Leaving seasons.

Have you had one lately? A moment when you’ve distinctly heard the voice of your Savior calling out his command for you “to come and to leave”?

They go together … coming and leaving. Moving on to a “next” requires the relinquishment of the “prior.” Obedience is the bridge that stands between the two. Otherwise, we remain stuck—trapped in the comfortable, wrapped in the familiar. Little does it matter if that familiar is draped in difficulty; often we reason it better than the risk of the unknown. Accordingly, we’re stuck.

Staying stuck is a deliberate choice; we may think differently. We may conclude our options as limited; it’s a rational response when our walls begin to shrink and our resources know depletion. Rather than move beyond our safety zone, we choose the confinement of its comfort, hoping for a better outcome; believing that in our hiding and through our tearful pleas we will be able to manifest a change in the situation.

The problem with this thinking is that change almost always initiates from another location. Another direction and another understanding. Change comes with a knock on the other side of the door and offers its voice of invitation and hope.

Come now; let us leave.

Not, come, it’s time for you to leave, but come now; let us leave.

There is a difference between the two; so often we miss the mark in the matter. We forget that when God issues his command for us to the leave the cloaking of our current, he does so with an “us” in mind. Never does he vacate the process; rather, he initiates it and asks us for faith enough to open up the door and to walk through to the other side.

For the disciples it meant leaving the confinement of a holy moment—a night’s long dialogue and final meal with the man they called friend … Jesus … Christ—the Son of the living God. It would be a difficult leaving; the uncertainty about what awaited them on the other side of the door was enough to warrant their concern, at least some confusion.

As far as their minds could reason, the situation wasn’t matching up with their imagination … with how they envisioned this journey with their Jesus to end. The painful resignation to the truth of what they were hearing was a difficult swallow. Talk of death and sorrow and returning to a Father’s glory sounded heavy and weighed fully upon their hearts.

Jesus understood; it weighed fully and in heavier measure upon his. Like the disciples, Jesus wrestled with the conclusion. Still and yet, he came to earth to do what his Father asked him to do; everything else—every feeling, desire, fleshly want and temporal satisfaction—fell prey to this overriding mission.

Accordingly, Jesus opened that door, and in doing so, made a way for us to mirror the same. Jesus walked his faith; he intends for us to follow his lead.

Come now; let us leave.
Come now; let us get on with the “getting on.”
Come now; let us be about the business of our Father.
Come now; let us take to the road of faith, believing that as we go and while we trust, we will behold the truth of a better moment.
Come now; let us not be afraid of an unseen obedience.
Come now; let us move forward, leaving the past where it remains.
Come now; let us believe in the One who made us, who loves us, who shapes us, and who keeps us.
Come now; let us take hold of all of that for which I have taken hold of you.
Come now; let us hope. Let us live the truth of our salvation. Let us move beyond the comfort of our today to embrace the wide and the wild of a trusting grace that was always meant to walk; not hide.

I don’t how if you needed to hear this today. I did. I’m experiencing my own sort of “leaving season” right now. I thank God for the courage that he has given me to walk through a pretty heavy door. My comfortable “difficult” was no longer a cup I could abide; it was keeping me stuck, friends, and I don’t like being stuck inside when there’s so much life to live beyond its confinement.

Can I clearly see the road ahead? No. In fact, very little. But there is someone who visions quite clearly. My Jesus. My companion. My faithful friend whose gentle knocking was recently replaced by his firm command.

Come now, elaine; let us leave. It’s time for the “getting on” and the moving forward.

Maybe today, you’re hearing his voice more clearly than before. Maybe today marks the beginning of your leaving season. If so, I walk it with you. I understand the amount of faith that’s been required to get you to this point of trusting our God; I applaud your confidence in his holiness. So does he. Nothing pleases God more than watching your faith blossom into an intentional obedience. This is what the “ancients” were commended for—believing when they couldn’t see, but always certain that, one day, they would see.

They have seen, friends, and so shall we. Come now, and let us leave our “prior” and move on with our God to his next. His intention for our lives exceeds our own. May we all have the willing trust and the certain faith to take him at his word. Thus, I pray…

Give us courage to move beyond our shut doors, Father. May the unexplored and promised vistas of a forward faith be the anchor that moves us outward in obedience. Clearly sound your voice so that we might be able to discern your truth. Where we are comfortable, prod us. Where are complacent, poke us. Where we are fearful, calm us. Where we are weak, strengthen us, and where we are faithless, show us … teach us what it means to walk in sacred trust. Shape us, Lord, for we are a people longing for more. Amen.

Copyright © May 2009 – Elaine Olsen

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PS: In honor of all the women that we will be celebrating this upcoming weekend, I will be giving away a copy of Celia Whitler’s “One Wish for You”–a beautifully illustrated book paying tribute to the women in our lives, along with a CD that includes five songs written and performed by Celia. You can click here to listen to a sample of Celia’s music. She’s new to me, but I love her earthy, raw voice that beautifully weaves its tender chords into the accompanying music. Celia also has a book/CD combo for graduates and others. Please take time to visit her website and leave a comment here to enter the drawing. Have a blessed and “full of Jesus” kind of weekend. I love you, friends. Shalom.

Ruby Tuesdays: A Mighty Woman (part six)

May 5, 2009

“She opens her arms to the poor and extends her hands to the needy.” (Proverbs 31:20).

I carried them last night.

Four names, scrawled onto a scrap sheet of paper just minutes prior to my departure. Four of your names representing four different requests … four different pains … four different hearts from four different homes. Four lovely women in need of one thing…

A great big God who loves them individually and who is well pleased to receive their names and requests before his throne.

I took them there … carried them in my hands and cradled them tenderly during the entirety of our nightly revival gathering so that I wouldn’t forget; hands are a good place to keep things when forgetfulness is our portion. Why?

Because we depend on them; we use them with almost everything that we do. Thus, when I shook hands in fellowship, when I opened up the hymnal to sing, as I cradled the Word of God, and when I bowed my knees at the altar in prayerful pause, I was deliberate in my remembrance of the four lives that I carried within the palm of my hand.

It was my privilege to do so. When lives behind the names are in need, and my hands are tied as to how much I can “do,” then opening my hands up to receive them for my prayerful consideration seems fitting … feels good and walks better.

I can go about my day, occasionally thinking of names; perhaps even scheduling some times of specific prayer therein. That too, is a fitting discipline for the life of a believer. But when needs are pressing in, when the weight of a world’s intrusion falls heavy and full upon a brother or a sister, sometimes the cause of Jesus Christ is better served by dropping our agendas and by picking up the needs of the brokenhearted … immediately.

Not tomorrow. Not when life slows down or becomes more manageable, but now. Today. The twenty-four hours that lie in our wake. Going into a day, we cannot foresee the needs that will present themselves to us, but we can be sure that they will … present themselves. Our goal in that moment of their arrival is to pay attention, to receive them as our own, and then to fill our hands with a doing that will seed eternal rather than temporal.

That seeding plants in a variety of ways.

Fixing a meal.
Working the carpool line.
Making a phone call.
Writing a note.
Running to the grocery.
Sitting bedside with a loved one.
Sitting beside to a stranger.
Wrapping a need with a hug.
Folding two hands in prayer.

Regardless of the doing, a “mighty woman”—a person of noble character worthy of ruby’s bestowing—is a person who fills his/her hands with the needs of another and who can be trusted with their worth.

Needs are worthy of more than our casual commitment and pleasant platitudes. Needs are worthy of our trust—our reliable convictions that lead us to active participation rather than passive inactivity.

Thus, I carried them last night. Four names. Four of your names to the gathering of the saints in eastern North Carolina, where not only our hearts were revived, but also where your names were presented before the King for his good and holy consideration. Your needs were carried; your needs were heard. Your needs were received by the One and only God who can best service your heart in this difficult and uncertain season.

Some of you have carried my name to Jesus in recent days. Some of you have “picked up” on a few of the signals via my writings and called me to let me know that are cradling my heart before the Father (thank you Sassy…). Some of you have sent e-mails, said some prayers, and have taken me seriously when I asked for your consideration.

You bless me by your sincerity. It is more than I deserve, and yet it is exactly as God intends.

We are the body of Christ; our hands were meant for the helping, for the receiving, and for the carrying of one another’s burdens. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for the times when you have carried mine. It brings me joy and peace to do the same for you. Thus, I pray…

Show me, Father, how I can help my friends. Keep my hands and my heart open to receive the needs of others as they present themselves. Give me the wisdom and grace to willingly embrace the gift of their trust and then keep me mindful of that trust as I go and as I do. Thank you for placing my life within the palm of your hands; may I always be found faithful in leading others to your embrace. Amen.

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PS: Join us over at Refreshmoments for more Ruby Tuesdays’ posts. Let me know how I can pray for you today.

In addition, I wanted to let you know about our blogging sister, Denise, who recently lost her blog, “Teacups and Time” for some unknown reason. Can you even imagine that, friends, losing your blog? You can find her at her new address, A Sacred Longing. I know she’d love a visit from friends, new and old.

Paying Attention

May 3, 2009

“While he [Peter] was still speaking, a bright cloud enveloped them, and a voice from the cloud said, ‘This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!’ When the disciples heard this, they fell facedown to the ground, terrified. But Jesus came and touched them. ‘Get up,’ he said. ‘Don’t be afraid.’ When they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus.” (Matthew 17:4-6).

I didn’t want to go to sleep last night.

Not because I was scared of the dark but because in doing so … in succumbing to a night’s slumber … I was concerned about missing something. A Jesus kind of something. A something that sometimes comes to us in the deep of night when the rest of the world has kindly found its quiet so that we can find our God.

Last night I tossed and I turned and I thought about God. He was there, ever present before me and stirring my imagination in incomparable measure. I couldn’t shut him down. I didn’t want to, so I fought it. Vigorously. Painfully and willfully, until I could no longer force my flesh to the contrary.

My sleep was fitful; I had the “groggies” and the dark circles to prove it this morning as I rolled out of bed to prepare my heart for worship. But it was worth it. Who needs sleep when Jesus is on the brain? Who indeed?!

I’m not sure how I arrived at my late night wrestling, but I have a clue. Prior to going to bed, I spent some time perusing some of my favorite blogs. I came across this one. Its author always makes me pause. She’s eloquent in her delivery of her heart and never ceases to stop me in my tracks and make me think. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I laugh, but most of the time, I simply read and absorb and speak my whispered “yes” to her pen and to my God.

It’s not that her life is overly fantastic. Like most of us, she’s a “day in, day out” kind of person. Her life doesn’t live on the stage nor does she wear a title of fame and fortune. She simply walks her days and writes her thoughts and allows her readers to join her on the road. Even though we’ve never met, I feel the tug of the thread that ties our hearts together despite the miles and choices that separate our journeys.

I thought a long time about my friend last night … about the connection that we share and why her words strike a chord within me. And in the midst of my pondering, just as clearly as I’ve ever sensed the voice of God speaking to me in my spirit, I heard him saying this…

Laura pays attention to life.

“What? Could you say that again, Father? I’m not sure I heard you correctly.”

Laura pays attention to life.

“What does that look like, Father?”

Like details. Like pausing long enough to consider the noises around her. Like being willing to bend to those noises and to pay homage to the moment. Like wrapping up all the truth of a single encounter and writing its worth with all the tenderness a heart can hold. Like finding me in the details. Like…

paying attention to life.

“Well then, Father, teach me to pay attention. Teach me what it means to bow to the moment and to live my life with a richer understanding that you can be found in each one of them.”

And with that, friends, my night’s contemplation began. A conversation with God. A face to face encounter with the only God who can be known and who longs for us to feel the rhythm of his heartbeat as we go and while on the road.

Paying attention to life. It starts for us even as it started for the Apostle Peter.

“Listen to him.”

When we do …

when we stop our mouths from running and our selfishness from needing,
when we refuse our agendas their consumption and our preferences their pleasure,
when we silence our minds from chaos and our determination from willful control,

then we, like the privileged three, will look up and see our exceptional and only Jesus in all of his glory, knowing that we have stood in the presence of sacred moment.

Paying attention to life. Stopping long enough to pay homage to a single moment. That is when we will see our Jesus unfolding his extraordinary kingdom into our ordinary everyday. And to hold that? To walk the soil of that kind of sacred sowing?

Well, for that, my fellow pilgrims, I will labor to fight sleep. I will entreat a night’s wrestling in hopes of receiving a Father’s beholding. I will toss and turn and struggle to override my flesh so that I can take hold of the face of God and carry his glory with me down the mountain into the valley below.

Oh, that we would fix our gaze in intentional pause before our God this day. How he longs to show himself faithful to each one of us when we do. Thus, I pray…

Father, help me to pay attention to life; stop me, pause me, push me and prod me to my knees and to my silence until I can no longer see me but only you in your extravagant splendor and holiness. Embed your glory within my frame. Splash the truth of your living witness all over me until I’m dripping wet with you, Jesus. Forgive me for thinking that my words, my agenda and my needs, are more important than your presence. Break through the clouds this day for my friends, and show them your glory. Penetrate the enemy’s schemes to steal, kill, and destroy, with the awe-inspiring and conquering witness of who you are. Surround our lives with your presence, and then move us forward in obedience to share your truth with a world that needs to stop talking and to start paying attention. You, alone, are worthy of our heart’s pause. Humbly, I concede mine to your revelation this day. Amen.

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PS: In honor of my friend, Laura, I would like to honor her with one of the give-away books, “Finding an Unseen God” by Alicia Chole. The other two winners (randomly drawn by my youngins’) are Joanne at Blessed and Sharon at Sit With Me Awhile. Congratulations ladies. Please send me your snail mail via my email, and as soon as I receive the books from Alicia, I will send them to you.

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