packing up | Elaine Olsen

sacred remembrance…

August 16, 2010

“Give thanks to the LORD, call on his name; make known among the nations what he has done. Sing to him, sing praise to him; tell of all his wonderful acts. Glory in his holy name; let the hearts of those who seek the LORD rejoice. Look to the LORD and his strength; seek his face always. Remember the wonders he has done, his miracles and the judgments he pronounced.” (Psalm 105:1-5)

I haven’t told you this story before.

Tonight seems a good fit for the telling. Why? Because tonight I need to remember. Remembering is one of the major mandates that God laid at the feet of his people throughout Scripture, thus becoming a lasting mandate for us as well.

To remember. To recall where we’ve been… where we’ve come from and the faithfulness of God therein. Remembrance is particularly helpful in a season where chaos abounds and our faith proffers more like a molecule rather than a mustard seed. As we become intentional with our remembrance—especially as it pertains to God’s everlasting faithfulness in seasons past when troubles assailed us and we couldn’t determine the workings of his hand only to be surprised in the end by a miraculous return to peace—when we recall those moments of grace and deliverance, then we’re better able to take hold of the doubts that overwhelm us in our current seasons of travail.

God knew back then, even as he knows now, the power that comes with our sacred remembering. Thus, tonight I remember… a day in recent history. A day dated April 14, 2010. But before we get there, let me set the stage.

In early February of this year, my husband received a call from our District Superintendent informing us that we were on the “move list.” No other details were offered, only that we were to begin making preparations for a move, both emotionally and physically. Over the next couple of months we did just that… not only preparing our hearts for a move, but also preparing the hearts of the congregation we’d served for six years. It was a difficult preparation from many different angles. That being said, we’re accustomed to moving. We’re a Methodist clergy family, wholly… holy committed to the itinerant lifestyle.

Fast forward to April 12, 2010. We received a call from our DS informing us of where our next pastorate would be. On paper, all made good sense. Great location; big enough parsonage; thriving congregation; a salary in keeping with expectation. We spent the day contemplating our “next,” but as the day wore on, so did our concerns. Before nightfall, we were a complete mess. We couldn’t put our finger on the pulse behind our concerns, but we knew something was amiss. The next morning, we received an answer.

A phone call arrived informing my husband of a situation surrounding our new appointment. In good conscience and after heavy deliberation with me and with God in prayer, my husband respectfully requested he be re-assigned to a new church. There’s always a risk that comes with making such a request of the Bishop, especially at the eleventh hour when appointments were being set in stone. To say that we were crushed in spirit with the recent revelation is to say too little. We had long felt this would be our moving year. Even prior to us knowing about our moving status, God had prompted our hearts along those lines. We were, however, content to let the process run its course, believing that God would move the hearts of the Bishop and his cabinet if he so desired to move us to a new place of ministry.

The day was fraught with anxiety. Hours went by before hearing anything. And then he called. Not God… the Bishop. He was sympathetic to our concerns and assured us that we could return to our previous appointment without any problem. And then, he offered a postscript.

“By the way, I have another appointment you might be interested in…”—something about a dying congregation, about our coming in as a first, test-case for a revitalization effort going on within the UM church and how our support would be generated in partnership between this new church and the conference. I wasn’t thrilled; I was confused.

Thus began an all night deliberation regarding a “move” not in keeping with our personal expectations. However, by morning, we’d decided to “go” with a few conditions attached to our “going.” Apparently, conditions don’t always mesh well with a Bishop’s offer, thereby creating another five tenuous hours of back and forth between my husband and the Bishop’s cabinet. Not handling the pressure very well, I did what all smart women do when confused.

I went shopping.

I told my husband that my phone would be on and that he should call me should something change. He did… a couple of times. His voice was tearful, his pain palpable. It didn’t look like a move was going to “press through” for us this year. During his final call to me, he said, “Elaine, the DS just called again and wanted to know if he should remove us from the ‘move’ list.” I hesitantly replied with my “yes.” We closed our conversation, and I headed to the dressing room.

And then it happened… a moment I couldn’t have planned… a moment I didn’t anticipate. As I live and breathe, I was standing before the mirror in the Belk’s dressing room, arms extended into the air in preparation for trying on a blouse. As the blouse enveloped my frame, so did a warmth I’ve never experienced before (even typing this now, I feel the witness of the Holy Spirit running throughout my body). From head to toe, I was wrapped and energized in the marvelous light and life of God’s Spirit within. I immediately retrieved my cell phone from my pant’s pocket and speed-dialed my husband.

“Honey, text message the cabinet and tell them we’ll come… no strings attached.”

He thanked me and immediately sent this message to the cabinet:

“We’ll go and we’ll go with God. No strings attached.”

We were later told that with the receiving of that text, the climate in the conference room immediately shifted and every one of our “attachments” were not only met, they were exceeded. Now here we are, almost eight weeks down the road, and I’m telling the story again. Not only for your sake, but mostly for mine. Why? Because I need to remember tonight; need to be reminded that for all the unknowns that currently torment me, there was a day in recent history when God firmly and beautifully gave me his “go” to be in this place.

I’d be lying if I told you I haven’t wondered a least a thousand times “why?” over the past eight weeks. It’s been a difficult “fit” with my heart. That being said, I’d also be lying if I tried to deny that dressing room moment. I can ask “why” all I want, but the truth is, I cannot deny the Spirit’s presence on April 14, 2010, in Belk’s. It’s almost as real to me this day as it was then, and friends…

Who of us doesn’t want some of that?

Remembrance is a good thing. It keeps us moving in a right and holy direction, even when we cannot see our next step. Remembering the presence and faithfulness of God in our past better enables us to move forward with our future. It’s one of the strongest tools we have in our spiritual arsenal to fight the enemy’s schemes for personal disaster. Tonight, I’m wielding that sword. Tonight, I’m writing my faith, out loud and on display for all the world to read. I don’t know if you needed it, but I certainly did, and I happen to believe that there might be a few of you who need to remember as well.

Remember God. Remember him well. Remember where you’ve come from, where you’ve been, and where you’re headed. Remember how he’s been there each and every time. He’s in it all—past, present, and future, and his faithfulness never ends.

Remember God and find your thanks, sing your praise, and tell of all his wonderful acts of kindness toward you. Your deliberate remembrance this day will be the spontaneous hallelujah of your tomorrow! As always…

Peace for the journey,

~elaine

PS: Thanks to Sandi Patty’s wonderful marketing crew, I have three copies of her newest book to give-away. The winners are… Cheryl B., Teresa, and Joan. Send me your snail-mail girls, and I’ll get your book to you this week! Enjoy.

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.

living my ellipsis…

June 21, 2010

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

I’m a fan of the ellipsis—the “dot, dot, dot” (…) that is sometimes used in writing to denote a pause in thought. An ellipsis is a connector of sorts, a bridge linking a previous moment with the next one. Sometimes the link is obvious; sometimes more veiled, but always intentional. Ellipses are my friends. They allow me to explore the inner conversation of my soul on a continuum that keeps the flow of thought fluid and pulsing. Without them, the thinking stops, the conversation ends, and what began as a good pondering gets tucked away for another day’s rumination.

As it goes with my writing, so it goes with my life. Today, I’m living in the midst of my “dot, dot, dot.” Today an ellipsis has arrived on the page of my life, and I am reminded of the importance of its existence. Without this bridge, I’ll never be able to connect my yesterday with my tomorrow. Without the pause, without the indicator that something is soon to follow my “dot, dot, dot,” then all that remains for me is that which has come before—the previous forty-four years’ worth of days that I call my life.

I happen to believe that there is more to my life than what has come before. I happen to believe in tomorrow and in its connection to all of my yesterdays. They cannot be separated even though they will try. What lies ahead… what is lived ahead is intricately linked to every moment that has lived previously. This is the way of a pilgrim’s journey.

For six years’ worth of days, my journey’s been lived upon the hallowed ground known as Rosewood, NC. Mind you, that’s not our official name. My mailing address reads Goldsboro, but for those of us who live within a few square miles of the 581 and Rosewood Rd. intersection, we name our residency accordingly. One doesn’t know that going in; some things about living here are learned… earned over time. Love stands a prerequisite for that learning; without love, Rosewood is just another location between here and there… another obscurely hidden dot on the map easily missed if one isn’t intent on the find.

Six years ago, I was intent on the find, and I am not disappointed by my discovery. What Rosewood lacks in aesthetics is amply made up for by the beauty of its inhabitants. People are what make this place a worthy investment. Long before I arrived here with family, God saw fit to include us in Rosewood’s history. It’s been a very good place to raise a family, an even better place to live a faith. Tonight, we stand in the middle of our ellipsis. We cannot go back and rewrite the previous years’ remembrances. Instead, we can honor their existence by pausing in this “dot, dot, dot,” believing that what has been scripted into our hearts here has counted and will continue to count for what God is going to script into our hearts next—the other side of this ellipsis.

This is our leaving time, friends, a time of going so that the time of God’s up-and-coming can arrive. It’s not an easy advance for any of us; our hearts are tremendously grieved with the good-bye. But as our dear friend, Tom, reminded us over lunch today (thank you Friendship SS Class for showing up in force at Torero’s), we risk something with our loving… we risk the pain of the “letting go.” Still and yet, we wouldn’t choose otherwise. To limit love is to limit authentic living. This, too, is the way of a pilgrim’s journey.

I imagine it will take me a long season to unpack the lessons that I’ve learned over the past six years in this place; some thoughts are better processed on the other side of the bridge. I’m looking forward to reflecting on them in the days to come… to holding them closely as my comfort and to recalling them as stones of remembrance in honor of the faithfulness of my Father’s love and watchful care over me and my family in this past season. I’ve spent nearly one-seventh of my tenure on planet earth in this place, and it’s been a good fit for my heart. I pray the same for the other side of my “dot, dot, dot.” I ask the Lord to be as good to me there as he’s been to me here. I cannot imagine him doing it any other way.

But I’m not there yet; tonight I’m resting in this ellipsis… confident of the words that God has written into my journey up to this point… confident of the words that will arrive via his pen to continue my story until they write me all the way home to heaven.

Perhaps, like me, you’re living in an ellipsis right now. There’s been a pause in your heart that has you wavering in between your yesterday and your tomorrow. You’re not stuck; you’re simply waiting… believing… hoping… dreaming. It’s been a hard bridge for you to navigate, yet to forsake these necessary steps is to miss the other side of your “dot, dot, dot.”

Don’t miss your “dot, dot, dot,” friend. Walk it. Quicken your pace, strengthen your feeble knees, and fortify your faith for the second half of the sentence. There is a tremendous beauty that comes with a finishing thought—a wholeness that replaces the partiality of a single phrase. Don’t be afraid to allow God to complete your pause. Instead, ready your heart for its arrival. God never writes anything into our stories without his corresponding punctuation. It may take a season or two to arrive at the conclusion, but when it comes, we can be sure that it comes in the fullness of a Father’s understanding and with his best intention for our lives. He, alone, can connect the “dots” and have them make sense.

Thus, watch out my tomorrow. I’m walking my “dot, dot, dot” tonight, and I’m bringing Rosewood, NC, with me as I come. You and her will be forever connected because of this pause that resides in my in between… because of this heart that is willing to carry the influence of my yesterday into the seeding of my tomorrow. I’ll see you when I get there; how I pray to live you all the more.

Until then…

Peace for the journey,

PS: Please forgive my absence from your blogging addresses, friends. I’ve barely had a moment to myself and only squeezed this post in because I desperately missed my “pen” this week. I won’t have Internet connection most of the week, but as soon as I’m up and running again, I’ll be sure to stop by for a visit. Thanks for all of your prayers. We’ve felt them all, especially today. We’ll be pulling out Tuesday morning and would appreciate your continuing thoughts. Shalom.

headin’ home…

June 14, 2010

“… And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own.” {Hebrews 11:13-14}.

People who say such things.

When was the last time you said such a thing… made an admission regarding your tenure upon this earth? I suppose we all say it from time to time; if not with words, then with our thinking… maybe even with our actions. On every occasion when we encounter the pull between the temporal ramifications of our flesh and the eternal, hidden pulse within, credibility is given to this faith-filled yearning. We don’t live very long in our skin before feeling the effects of such an understanding. We may not know what to call it—this ache that resides so very close to our hearts—but we cannot deny its existence. We simply feel it as it happens. Some of us receive it as a gift from God; others retreat from its witness in hopes of abating the inevitable—a final moment of final witness with some final answers regarding a final finish. Some of us would rather wait for then, but not me.

I want to be a person who says such things now; not then. Now is when faith happens; not when God reveals himself in final splendor. Faith doesn’t grow in that finishing moment when God is clearly obvious. Faith grows now, when God’s pulse within us quickens with ours and we can no longer keep our silence regarding such things.

I had a such things kind of moment today. I said something this morning during my prayer time that seems to echo the refrain of my spiritual ancestors from Hebrews 11. They may have said it better than me; I fully imagine that they lived it better, but all of our hearts, whether then or now, anchor with the same God. Thus, a few similar words from a similarly captivated heart.

I want to be a better pilgrim, Lord.

It’s a good prayer to pray… an honest prayer of confession. As of late, I’ve been tightly focused on my agenda to the neglect of God’s bigger picture. None of the details that have garnered my attention are unnecessary or unimportant. They are a requirement of the journey that I’m traveling. But because of it all—the packing, the phone calls, the address changes, the good-byes—it’s sometimes easy to miss the pull of heaven. Sometimes the “necessary” gets in the way of my pilgrim focus, and if not carefully guarded, becomes the cloud that blocks my view of home.

I’ve been missing home in recent days. Not this one; in just over a week, I’ll have a new roof over my head and a new life to get to know. No, when I speak about missing home, it’s not this one that I’m pining over. I miss the view of the home that’s coming—the one that’s free of the flesh and full of the Spirit of God. My attachments here have made me weary and have brought me to my knees and my tears and my wondering about their worthiness as it pertains to my pilgrim status.

True pilgrims of God don’t get bogged down in the particulars. Instead, true pilgrims keep their focus. Keep looking ahead. Keep pressing through the “necessary” without ever losing sight of the “next.” True pilgrims share a few common traits. Traits like…

Dreams. Determination. Discipline. Devotion.

Dreams to start the journey.
Determination to make the journey.
Discipline to stay the journey.
Devotion to finish the journey.

Short change any one of these steps, and homeward focus can easily be replaced by temporal visioning.

Long ago and faraway, I had my first dream about home. Today, I am determined more than then to get there. I pray for the discipline to take me there, and above all else, for an unbridled devotion to the Lover of my soul that will land me safely on his front porch where he will carry me through the portal of my forever.

I want to be a better pilgrim. I want to a woman who says such things… who lives such things all the more. I am an alien and a stranger on this earth, in search of a country to call my own. It belonged to God first, and because of his Son, Jesus Christ, it belongs to me now. I cannot see it in this moment, but I can dream it. Tonight, it matters not the roof that serves as my shelter, nor the address that claims me as resident. My temporal cannot replace dreams eternal. It will try, but at the end of the day, the ache that resides deep within me cannot be denied. It must be addressed. It must be remembered. It must be given the honor that it is due.

Home really is where the heart is, and tonight my heart is with Jesus.

People who say such things.

May we all be found saying such things this week. As always…

Peace for the journey,

PS: In honor of the road ahead (my two older boys heading to Bolivia on Wednesday and our impending move in eight days) I’ll be missing from blogland for awhile. I imagine I’ll be checking in with you from time to time, but my pen will be taking a much needed break. My heart? Well, it never takes a break, so there will be more to come down the road. In the meantime, keep looking toward the horizon and keep thinking about home. Our God is so worthy of and honored by our thoughts. We covet your prayers. Shalom.

settting the stage for the divine "yes"

May 23, 2010

“I appeal to you for my son, Onesimus, who became my son while I was in chains. Formerly he was useless to you, but now he has become useful both to you and to me. I am sending him—who is my very heart—back to you.” (Philemon 10-12).

I’m not going to lie to you… last week was a rough week. Some weeks are like that. I’ve come to expect them; certainly not enjoy them, ask for them, lay awake in hopeful anticipation of them, just expect them. It is the way of pilgrimage.

Some days walk with the rich reminder of everything that’s good and right and pure in this life. Some days walk with the reminder of the treacherous terrain that anchors beneath our feet, reminding us again of the chasm that exists between our flesh and our faith—our “now” and our “next.” My prayer is to never get stuck there, to stay mired in the frustration and emotion of it all, but instead, to believe beyond the earth’s current deceitfulness and to take hold of God’s promise of perspective—to see what he sees and to live the kingdom possibilities therein.

With God, there’s always a better day coming. Always. And today was that day for me.

This morning I did what I’ve been doing for the past several years. I walked into the Friendship Sunday School class and settled into my spot. It won’t be long before that spot belongs to someone else. These are precious days for my family and me. We’re down to the short rows of our time here, and while it might be easier to begin the slow fade from the presence of those I’ve come to dearly love (thus making the “cut” a bit easier when June 22nd arrives) it’s harder to stay away from them. They are my family, and these “ancients” who have so graciously invested their hearts and love into me over the past six years have left a kingdom imprint across my soul. Thus, I cling to them rather than retreat from their witness.

At the last moment, our regular teacher for the morning called in sick (is that allowed in church?), and as a “fill-in” for such occasions I made a quick review of the morning lesson via our quarterly. I grabbed my Who’s Who and Where’s Where in the Bible before heading out the door, fully expecting the Lord to show up despite my lack of preparation. Today’s text?

Philemon. Twenty-five verses of holy writ nestled in between Paul’s letters to Timothy and the book of Hebrews. A letter in the New Testament that is easily missed if one isn’t intent on finding it. A single page of witness written by the gracious hand of Paul—a letter to one of Paul’s earlier converts named Philemon on behalf of Onesimus (Philemon’s runaway slave who had recently been converted via Paul’s ministry during his confinement in a Roman prison cell).

There are so many angles to this story, so many lessons to be learned about forgiveness and love and the treatment of fellow human beings, especially those who are brothers and sisters in the faith. We’re not given many of the details in these twenty-five verses. We can’t even be certain regarding how Paul’s appeal worked itself out in the end, both for Philemon and for Onesimus. We can be certain that, in fact, there was a grand conclusion to the story, but we’ll have to wait for heaven to live the details. It’s a story I want to see replayed in living color, but until then, I’m left to my imagining. What moves me the most about this story is the profound witness of one man who was, not only chained to his prison cell, but who was more fervently chained to the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Paul didn’t let his prison status confine his witness. He didn’t let his captivity define him. Instead, he took hold of those prison walls and shook their foundations with the revelatory truth of a wooden cross and an empty tomb and the gracious God who loved his people enough to make it all happen. It is told that prison officials learned to change Paul’s guards regularly because if they were with Paul for any length of time, they became believers. We have no way of verifying the authenticity of that story, but we certainly can authenticate the only God who is able to interject his grace and witness into the most dire of occasions, even penetrating through steel bars and cement blocks to make sure his grace isn’t missed. It happened for Onesimus, and therefore, these twenty-five verses of grace-filled endorsement from the hand of Paul.

Paul’s kindness toward Onesimus—his very heart—is what means the most to me about this story tonight. I’ll chew on the other lessons in the upcoming week, but today, Paul’s “backing up” of a sinner is what leads my heart toward stronger devotion and my thoughts toward a deeper pondering. What am I willing to do for those brothers and sisters in Christ who sit within arm’s reach of my personal influence?

Paul wrote a letter on behalf of Onesimus to his former slave-master, Philemon. In doing so, Paul set the stage for a positive outcome—not just for Onesimus but for the greater good, God’s kingdom of good. Paul used persuasive language, his tenacious passion for all things Jesus, and the unwavering truth of the Gospel, to plead his case for kingdom favor to be granted toward Onesimus. Paul set Philemon up for a divine “yes.” Paul made is easier for Philemon to do the right thing—God’s right thing. And while we don’t know the outcome of that set up, history does record that “…about fifty years later, a church leader named Ignatius wrote a letter to the church leader at Ephesus—Bishop Onesimus. Onesimus the former slave? Possibly.” [Stephen Miller, Who’s Who and Where’s Where in the Bible (Urichsville, OH: Barbour Publishing, 2004), 293.]

I like to imagine it. I like to think that the church back then “got it” better than we “get it” now. That they were willing to love beyond borders and social class and poverty status and ethnicity to “be the church” and to grow the kingdom in accordance with the lavish grace of the cross. That there was no Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or female (Gal. 5:8), but that all were considered worthy of the blood that was shed by God’s Son. That, in fact, when Onesimus delivered Paul’s letter to Philemon, the servants were called and the fattened calf was slaughtered and a party, unlike any seen before in Ephesus, was given in honor of the saint named Onesimus—the one who was once lost as a slave but who now was found as a brother.

That’s the way I hoped it happened back then. Even more so, I hope it is the way it happens right now. That I, like Paul, would be willing to…

be chained to the Gospel of Jesus Christ;
be fervently deliberate in the opening up of my heart and mouth regarding that Gospel;
be an advocate for those who are coming into the kingdom and who need a “set up” for a divine “yes” from someone else.

I want to stand in the corner of my brothers and sisters in Christ, despite the earthly barriers that sometime separate us, and campaign for their kingdom favor. Not because it makes me look good or because I’m after a bigger crown or because I desire the praise of humanity, but rather because my championing on their behalf speaks of the goodness of my Jesus and of his royal crown and of his praise for his created. He has done no less for each one of us. He has written a letter on our behalf to his Father, championing our hearts before the throne and calling us worthy of kingdom favor. Accordingly, how can we do any less?

There will be a few people within your arm’s reach this week who need the benefit of your “come-alongside” kind of grace, friends. Those who are weak in the faith and who deserve the witness of your love. For Paul it was his pen. For us, it will be other things. Our time, our prayers, our money, our intervention, our courage, our voices, our willingness to bend and to bow and to get our hands dirty when we’d much prefer the cleanliness of an upright posture. We need to relinquish our pens to the heart of Father God and to allow him to write his letter of commendation through us on behalf of his people. We are the advocates of a great kingdom and a great grace. We need to set the stage for a divine “yes” from those who’ve yet to follow-through on the practice of their preaching.

With God there’s always a better day coming, and that day is today. Not just for us, but for those who need the truth of a Father’s love. It comes in the form of our obedience to stand alongside them and lobby for the kingdom favor that is rightfully theirs because of the collective grace of the cross.

This is the witness of my Sunday morning walk to Sunday school. This is what I learned, and with that, I’ve turned a corner. The week ahead doesn’t look nearly as bleak as the one previously lived. This is the way of pilgrimage. To believe beyond the earth’s current deceitfulness and to take hold of God’s promise of perspective—to see what he sees and to live the kingdom possibilities therein.

Indeed, a better day. I knew it was coming. I pray such a “coming” for you this week. As always…

peace for the journey,

~elaine

PS: The winners of peace for the journey: in the pleasure of his company are Gladwell and Cindy @ Consider it All Joy. Please send me your snail mail, and I’ll get these to you ASAP. We’ll have another give-away in coming days, but for those of you who’ve yet to get a copy, ordering information is available by clicking here. Thank you for all of your support! Shalom.

Category Archives: packing up