packing up | Elaine Olsen

a view from my window…

April 21, 2010

I’m sitting in a place this morning where I’ve sat many times before over the past six years. I’m perched at my dining room table, looking out at the highway that runs in front of our home. The azalea bushes across the street greet me with their rich dressing of whites and pinks and corals—colors that will quickly fade in coming days. The rain is falling as cars are carrying their occupants to the busyness of a new day… this day… April 21, 2010. None of us—those who are on the road and those at home—can accurately forecast how this day is going to live itself out on the pages of history, but all of us have some expectations along those lines.

Mine are wrapped around the “big event” of the day. It may not seem like “big” to other people, but to me, it’s about as large as I want to live today. Tonight, I’ll be showing off the parsonage to the new clergy couple who will take up occupancy within these four walls come June. There’s not much “showing off” to do. The house is old, the rooms are small. To those accustomed to high class, this house wouldn’t make the cut. Still and yet, it has a beauty all its own… not because of its outward attractiveness but rather because of its inward pulse.

You see, my family has crammed a lot of living into these four walls over the past six years. To date, our time here has been the longest tenure of our ministerial lives. All four of our children consider this “home” and rightly so. Many personal milestones have been achieved while living here, too many to chronicle in this moment, too many emotions for me to personally deal with and still be able to finish this post in tact. Safe to say, the best part of this house hasn’t been its amenities; the selling point of this house has been the history that’s been written by its occupants over the past seventy-two months.

Family is what gives a house its character… its worthiness and its value. Could this one use some cosmetic work on the exterior? You bet, but you’d have a hard time improving on its interior. And that’s what I will tell the new clergy family tonight when they come to imagine their lives living here within these four walls… not to major on the “externals” but to realize that for every way it might fall short in their expectations, God has expected bigger. That he can take the simplest of dwellings and make it into something extraordinary. That being a “home” has less to do with the four walls that encase it and more to do with the inward pulse that exists within it. That this place has been a good place to grow a family and to mark the passage of time with “stone upon stone” of God’s faithfulness.

Like the Israelites who were crossing the Jordan River in order to possess the promise of Canaan, we’ve collected and gathered a gracious plenty of stones from the riverbed along the way so that in days to come, when our children and our grandchildren ask us regarding the story behind those stones, we can sacredly and reverently say,

We have crossed the Jordan on dry ground. For the Lord our God did to the Jordan just what he had done to the Red Sea when he dried it up before us until we had crossed over. He did this so that all the peoples of the earth might know that the hand of the Lord is powerful and so that you might always fear the Lord your God (paraphrase of Joshua 4:21-24).

The memories we’ve made in this place will serve as our stones of remembrance for years to come. None of the six of us can accurately forecast the eventual depth and witness of those stones, but we can all be sure that they matter. That the collective life we’ve lived here beneath this roof has shaped us, strengthened us, matured us, and furthered us along in the pilgrimage of faith. What’s been lived here writes as history for tomorrow, and that fact alone, my friends, should make the living of our todays (wherever that might be for you) a worthy investment of our hearts.

Home truly is where the heart lives, and mine has lived here for six years. My family and I are better for having pitched our tent upon this soil and for allowing it to penetrate its worthiness into our history. It’s a good perspective to hold as I move throughout my day and begin the imaginations of my heart regarding my next home. I haven’t seen it yet, but I can feel its worthiness sight-unseen. Why? Because I’m bringing my home with me as I go. I’m bringing my family, and they are enough to warrant a substantial increase in property value wherever they reside.

Would you pray for me that I will be able to do this thing? To relinquish my hold on this temporary dwelling into the hands of another? I want to do it graciously, humbly, and considerately. God has been very good to me; I want to release that blessing and goodness to this new family with no strings attached. I want to leave a piece of my heart here so that in days to come, perhaps in a season when they’ve got a few questions regarding the worthiness of their ministry time here, the inward pulse of my family’s witness will reverberate within these walls reminding them of just how good a life can live upon this soil.

Thanks, friends, for taking this journey with me. For being willing to entreat these soul-stirrings of mine and for allowing me to flesh out my “faith” while still living with my “elaine.” All of “this” would be so much harder if I didn’t have you to come alongside me and lend me your strength for the road ahead. May the presence of our Father and the “endurance and encouragement of the Scriptures” (Romans 15:4) be the anchors that bring your heart hope this day. As always…

peace for the journey,

a view from the Jordan…

April 19, 2010

“… ‘When you see the ark of the covenant of the LORD your God, and the priests, who are Levites, carrying it, you are to move out from your positions and follow it. Then you will know which way to go, since you have never been this way before….’” (Joshua 3:3-4)

Never having “been this way before,” at least not exactly, it occurs to me this morning that I just might be standing in the middle of the Jordan River… awaiting the promise of Canaan, yet so completely overwhelmed and awestruck by the demonstration of God’s power in the moment that the view from the “middle” writes as promise just as much as the view from the other side does. The view from where I’m standing this morning feels right and good and in keeping with God’s plan for my life—our lives. You see, a walk to Canaan is never isolated from the presence of others. There will always be those who go ahead of us in order to point us in the right direction, those who look for our leading from behind, and those who take our hands mid-stream feeling every inch of understanding as we go and along the way.

Promise-land living is corporate living, where all pilgrims willingly take ownership of the responsibility of the priesthood—to carry the presence of the living Lord along for the journey and to interject his witness via the feet of faith. Faith feet aren’t afraid of getting wet and are strengthened in their resolve to stand firm so that others might walk through on dry ground. In many ways, those feet belong to me. In other ways, those feet belong to my husband. Together, we’ve made some deliberate choices in recent days to take those first steps of faith into the Jordan. But long before we ever imagined this “route” to Canaan, there were and still are a few people whose feet walked this route first. They have gone ahead of us and have been waiting for us to follow their lead and to join them on the march to Promise.

My dear blog readers, hear me and hear me well. As people of faith, each of us is currently standing in one of three places on the road to Promise:

Viewing Canaan from the opposite side of the Jordan;
Viewing Canaan while standing in the Jordan; or,
Viewing Canaan beneath our feet.

Not one of these vantage points holds precedence over the others. None. All are worthy points along the way in our faith journeys because all of them have Canaan within sight. Our walkabouts in faith are cyclical trails of trust. No one currently living in the flesh holds the treasure of his/her eternal Canaan in its fullness right now. That crossing over occurs when the last vestiges of the flesh surrender their pulse to the grave. Therefore, while moving toward God’s kingdom to come, there is room enough for us to move within-and-around this process of faith’s progression. In the past week, I’ve seen Canaan from all vantage points, and my faith isn’t “less” because of it. My faith is stronger because of it.

We are doing a great disservice to a great many Christians when we try to put parameters around what “Canaan” should look like for other believers. I’m a firm advocate of abundant living, but I can never live abundantly until I have first known poverty of soul. One of the greatest tragedies of a walkabout in faith is for complacency to root in our hearts while living in Canaan. God doesn’t intend for us to set up our tents on the banks of the Jordan as a permanent place of residency. Certainly, he intends for us to rest there, gain perspective there, but eventually, he’ll require us to move deeper into the heart of the Promised Land. And for that to happen, friends, we must be wiling to keep the tent pegs pliable regardless of how firmly they’ve become tethered to the soil beneath our feet.

I don’t know where you and your faith are standing this week; it’s likely that, before it comes to conclusion, you’ll experience Canaan from all vantage points. Regardless of where your feet are planted this morning, let me be a voice of encouragement to you that as long as Canaan is your goal, then your faith is well-placed and will keep you moving despite your willingness to stay where you are. God will tend to the issue of your faith’s progression; he won’t make you move, but he’ll be certain to allow you the opportunity to keep in step with his best plan for your life.

How I pray for God’s strength, wisdom, and endurance to be your portion and mine as we continue to live out the calling of the priesthood that he’s placed on each one of us! We are the living witnesses of faith whose names are being written into a history that will, one day, read like the stories of our spiritual ancestors from long ago. They didn’t know then what the fullness of their faith would mean to us now, but they lived it anyway. Not for us, but for the promise of the One who authored their lives.

Always for the promise of the One. He is why I’m here this morning, taking time out of a very busy day to remind you of your kingdom conferment and of the joy that comes to God’s children as we are faithful to keep our focus forward and our feet all the more.

Love you each one. Go in the strength you’ve been given, and until next time…

peace for the journey,

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letting go at "44"…

April 12, 2010

“And we also thank God continually because, when you received the word of God, which you heard from us, you accepted it not as the word of men, but as it actually is, the word of God, which is at work in you who believe.” (1 Thessalonians 2:13)

My boy turned twenty-one this past weekend. I turned forty-four. Together we celebrated our milestones at my parents’ house on Saturday. Mom made sure we each had our own cake (only a mother would do this), and dad made sure we had steak (only a dad would go to some out-of-the-way butcher and pay $85 for the filets we enjoyed).

The food was tasty, and the fellowship was rich. I come from good roots, friends, and I am mindful and grateful for the privilege of what it means to have grown up in a household that promotes generosity and faith, all in the same setting… not just on birthdays but, consistently, on every occasion over the past forty-four years. What a joy it is for me to be surrounded by those who know me the best and love me still—those who birthed me, those whom I’ve birthed, and those who’ve married into the crazy lot of us. It was a good memory and one that has me thinking, yet again, about the one, consistent theme that has followed me all the days of my life.

Letting go.

A hard portion of Christian obedience, yet perhaps, the greatest “tool” our Father uses to shape us more perfectly into his consecrated people. “Letting go” comes in all shapes and sizes. Letting go of…

Children.
Parents.
Friendships.
Careers.
Dreams.
Money.
Time.
Childhood.
Carefully planned agendas.
Distractions.
Addictions.
Selfishness.
Consistency.
Routine.
Ministries.
Concerns.
Expectations.
Regrets.
Anger.
Unforgiveness.
Life.
_______________.

Regardless of the object behind the fierce and determined “holdings” of our hearts, it’s only in the letting go of those objects that we begin to fully participate in the life of faith to which God has called each one of us. By nature, we clothe ourselves with the outward manifestations of an inward pulse. What beats on the interior, wears openly and outloud on our exteriors. And while not all outward attachments are inherently detrimental to our faith’s progression, a tight-fisted grip on them can be. When what we’re holding becomes more important to us than the One we’re holding, then a readjustment of perspective is often needed.

God is faithful to bring that readjustment; we, however, are not always faithful to submit our hearts for his evaluation. Rather than releasing our grip on worldly attachments, we cling tightly to them in hopes of managing and manipulating them for a season longer. Sometimes we are successful in doing so, but rarely does it last and most always is it to our disadvantage. When we refuse relinquishment of our “stuff” (whether people or things), our clutching often becomes the stumbling block that prevents us from moving forward with Jesus and his plan for our futures.

Paul understood this. His heart was primarily tethered to his calling in Jesus Christ, but secondarily to those who stood on the receiving end of God’s truth. The church at Thessalonica represented one such group. His time with them was brief, thus prompting his later concern regarding their “continuing in the faith” and not succumbing to the persecution and false teachings that were circulating in their midst. He felt, perhaps, that they could have benefited from further discipleship under his tutelage. I understand. How many times have I longed for further mentoring from a beloved teacher or have thought that, perhaps, those sitting under my mentoring might benefit from our spending more time together? It’s a valid concern, but even more valid and potent is the truth that came to the Thessalonians while in the presence of Paul.

That truth cannot be contained within dates on a calendar or parametered within the context of a mentoring relationship. God’s truth is timeless and is too big for confinement. Once it is released, it exponentially manifests its worth into the lives of all who come in contact with its witness. His truth is stronger than our concerns regarding its diminishment and tightly anchors itself within the soil of a receiving heart. Paul planted those seeds in Thessalonica; God was faithful to water and to grow them—a truth later verified by Timothy after his visit to the church there:

“But Timothy has just now come to us from you and has brought good news about your faith and love. He has told us that you always have pleasant memories of us and that you long to see us, just as we also long to see you. Therefore, brothers, in all our distress and persecution we were encouraged about you because of your faith. For now we really live, since you are standing firm in the Lord.” (1 Thessalonians 3:6-8).

Paul experienced “real living” because the faith of the Thessalonians was standing firm, was active and breathing and increasing daily despite his absence. Paul worried about his “letting go” on the front end of his ministry. The churches he had planted were his joy and crown, his children and his delight. It was hard to release them to “go it alone” without his watchful guidance and care, but hearing about their growing in the faith buoyed his flesh for the price that would be paid for their knowledge—his personal persecution. For Paul, it was a fair exchange—their faith for his flesh. It was a calling he willingly chose, lovingly fulfilled, and dutifully wrote about so that we could have a better picture of what it means to “let go and let God.”

I don’t know what you need to “let go” of in this season of living. I know that God is calling me to “let go” of a few things I’ve been clinging to—stuff that is keeping me too closely connected to this earth. I know that I cannot walk completely free from my worldly attachments. God has given me many of them for my benefit. But I can walk free from their hold on me, from their being too important to me. None of them (not one person or one thing) is more important to me than the hold that I currently have on the hem of Christ’s garment. When anything or anyone starts to pull me away from those threads, then I pray for a holy readjustment of my heart. Why?

Because those threads are the ones that will pull me home. I’d rather get there with “nothing” then to arrive there with everything only to be turned away from my kingdom inheritance because my earthly vision was short-sighted and temporarily focused. Yes, I turned forty-four this past weekend. My son is twenty-one, and my parents? Well, they are on the backside of the journey home. The passage of time is evident to all of us. We cannot stop the hands on the clock, and while I love every minute of my life with them here, I’m keenly aware that our “here” is just a foretaste of what awaits for us “there.” “There” is where I want my thoughts and heart to anchor because there is where I will spend forever.

Thus, a letting go. Indeed, a hard portion of the Christian obedience, but in the end, the very best obedience any one of us can yield to the process of our completed consecration. May we all take the time this week to examine the holding of our hands and hearts and then, further, to be willing to lay something/someone down in order to take hold of more of the truth that is ours in Jesus Christ.

Hold loosely the things of this earth, friends; hold tightly to things of heaven; stay focused until the end. And as you go and along the way, may Jesus Christ always and forever be your…

Peace for the journey,

PS: Leah @ the Point is hosting her pay-it-forward giveaway. Please take time to visit her and enter your name for an opportunity to win some fabulous prizes!

Produced by Faith, Prompted by Love, Inspired by Hope

April 8, 2010

“We always thank God for all of you, mentioning you in our prayers. We continually remember before our God and Father your work produced by faith, your labor prompted by love, and your endurance inspired by hope in our Lord Jesus Christ.” (1 Thessalonians 1:2-3).

Work. Labor. Endurance.

Produced. Prompted. Inspired.

Faith. Love. Hope.

Work produced by faith.

Labor prompted by love.

Endurance inspired by hope.

A day’s doing motivated by a heart’s holding. When was the last time the same was said of you… that the sum total of your long day’s labor was wholly {holy} fueled by the faith, love, and hope you have in and for our Lord Jesus Christ? When was the last time that these “three” enduring virtues {see 1 Cor. 13:13} produced, prompted, and inspired you to live and to do your life with an “as unto the Lord” kind of approach?

It’s something I need to keep in mind as I prepare my heart for another’s day labor within these four walls that I’ve called home for the past six years. There is a work going on in my heart that exceeds boxes and packing tape—a greater work that is prompting and inspiring me to keep at the task at hand. In some small measure {albeit much smaller than what was going on in the church at Thessalonica in Paul’s day} the work of my hands this day is part of God’s kingdom business. It doesn’t seem that way… most moments proffer as monotonous, customary, routine and necessary, and in truth, they are. But they are also so much more—a more that is attached to a hot July afternoon nearly thirteen years ago.

On that day, I signed on for the role as helpmate to my preacher husband, Billy. It’s a role I freely chose and understood on the front end of our “I do’s”–the moment when he took my hand and the hands of my two sons into his and promised his forever love and watchful care over our lives in exchange for mine…my forever love and watchful care over his life. Together, we all said “yes” to the itinerant, ministry life of a Methodist preacher, knowing and believing that the One who called us would be faithful to “complete” his work in us… wherever he leads and whatever is required of us because of that leading.

You see, as I’m pitching and sorting, throwing out and packing in, it’s all just part of being faithful to my “right now” and God’s “what’s ahead.” Without my work, labor, and endurance on the front end of this move, God’s “what’s ahead” is going to arrive in my life, and I will be unprepared for its advent. If I don’t allow my faith, love, and hope in Jesus Christ to be the underpinning of today’s activity, then God’s “what’s ahead” might be met with my dread and bitterness rather than with my sacred expectation.

I want to be found faithful with my day, friends. I want my trust in God to be the solid foundation from which I draw my strength for the tasks at hand. I want the accomplishing work of this day to, in some small way, add to the kingdom work that has been assigned to my family as we seek to honor the calling that he has been placed on us to be a people of movement.

Really, it’s a calling that has been placed on all of us as disciples of Jesus Christ. Faith moves forward with the cloudy pillar of God’s leading. Faith never stays mired in the current soil for very long. Faith stays long enough in a certain assignment to accomplish God’s kingdom agenda, but then faith has the wisdom and the courage to move on. This is my moving on moment; perhaps you’re experiencing one as well… if not a physical move then, perhaps, a movement of your heart in a new direction.

Would you allow your faith in God to produce the work of your hands this day? Your love for God to prompt your labor? Your hope in God to inspire your endurance?

God is after far much more in you and through you than what your mind can currently conceive or imagine. I don’t hold all of the answers for your life; I really don’t hold many of the answers regarding mine. But I do firmly believe in them—the answers—and I hold fast to the One who authors them all. And as far as it concerns me and my household this day, we’re putting all of our faith, love, and hope in Jesus Christ for those answers and will be faithful to do our part to make sure that God’s kingdom isn’t hindered by our unwillingness to move forward with his plan.

Let us not be a hindrance to the advancement of the kingdom, friends. Instead, let us take to our days with the understanding that even the smallest measure of willing obedience on our part will yield an eternal result that fits perfectly into the bigger plan that belongs to God. Packing tape and boxes may not look a whole lot like “faith”, but my heart tells me otherwise.

It’s also telling me, I’d better get busy, so until next time…

peace for the journey,
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Good Gravy and the Beth Moore Closet

March 24, 2010

“Oh good gravy!”

(My newest expression used in times of frustration. Please don’t tell me there’s something wrong with it; I could have said something else, have often said something else, but please don’t take my “good gravy” away from me. Thanks to Jet and Cord, cowboy brothers currently running “The Amazing Race” on CBS, I have a new expression for my moments of frustration. It’s nice watching two brothers being kind to one another on this show, considering that most of the other paired contestants are challenged when it comes to kindness and to finding alternate expressions for the four-letter expletives that flow like water from their mouths. Yes, I love me some clean-shaven, boot-wearin’, nice-talking, momma-lovin’ cowboys.)

Back to my “good gravy.” (Which, by the way, I couldn’t make any to save my life. I’m not a cook. On Monday I ventured into the kitchen to make spaghetti for my family and set the smoke alarms off… I’m not kidding. But I digress, again. I imagine it might happen to me a great deal over the next three months. My brain is being pulled in a thousand different directions. Bear with me, K?)

Anyway, yesterday I made the brave decision to venture into one of our closets in our spare bedroom. Not just any closet; the “Beth Moore” closet. Yes, I admit it… I have one. My husband added shelving to the closet several years ago as my Bible study resources began to multiply. Along the way, Beth’s made shelf-room for some of her other author friends. Over the past six years, I’ve accumulated curriculum kits that include:

Beth’s

Jesus the One and Only
John the Beloved
Believing God
Psalms of Ascent
Esther
Daniel
The Patriarchs
Living Beyond Yourself
A Woman’s Heart, God’s Dwelling Place

Nancy DeMoss’s Seeking Him
Priscilla Shirer’s One in a Million
Jennifer Rothschild’s Fingerprints of God & Me, Myself, and Lies
Alicia Chole’s Anonymous

I’m sure I’m leaving something out… help me Bible study gals! That’s a lot of meals out, friends, approximately $3000 worth of eating out or buying clothes or taking a nice vacation with my family, but I’m not bitter, I’m just sayin’, that’s all. And then there are the file boxes crammed with other teachings, ones I’ve developed and ones that I used prior to our moving here (a spiritual gifts study, advent study, Easter study, etc.). Oh, and the “props” attached to the studies (the golden scepter, the crown, the fountains, the candles, the dozen or so table cloths made to match the colors of the bookcovers, etc).

And lest I leave out the rest of the closet’s contents, how about the 100 or so CD’s that have done little more than collect dust over the past six years, and the craft supplies crammed in the upper corner, along with an endless supply of gift bags and wrapping ribbon, and the spiral notebooks crammed with study notes to which I will never again refer; not because they aren’t worthy, but because there is absolutely no organization to any of it.

And this is just one closet, friends (HELP ME, Cindy!). The more I dug, the more I found. Quickly I was surrounded in a sea of struggle, and with tears running down my face, I simply looked up to God and offered my “Good gravy!”

His response?

“Yes, Elaine, a lot of it.”

And as I looked around me, on the bed and stacked all over the floor, I saw the witness of a good investment, some “good gravy.” I could have invested my money elsewhere. Even more importantly, I could have invested my time in a thousand alternate directions, but as I began to sort and pitch—being careful to hold onto the good and eliminate the non-essentials—my heart was tendered by the reality of what God has done through me over the past six years, most days in spite of me.

Not only has he taught me a great deal about his Word via some awesome Bible study mentors, he’s allowed me the lavish fellowship of friends who have come alongside me to share in the teaching. My Tuesday night gals have made the investment worth it. Collectively, we carry the wealth of the kingdom within us, exponentially increasing its value everywhere we go. We may not be able to recall with specificity all the valuable insights we’ve received via the fourteen-plus studies we’ve done together, but we’ve certainly taken hold of the one thread that’s been woven throughout them all.

Jesus Christ and the life-altering truth of his Word.

That’s why most of the participants kept coming back to study on Tuesday nights. They understood it wasn’t about me, but about God. About learning more, seeking more, growing more, living more. About realizing that the “more” is best lived within the context of community, rather than in isolation. Could we have grown in our spiritual walkabouts with Jesus apart from one another? Certainly. God’s Word tells us that he has given us everything we need in the power and strength of the Holy Spirit to grow in our faith and understanding of his truth (see 1 John 2:24-27). But without one another, we would have grown differently, perhaps at a slower pace and without the benefit of sacred participation—of having our hearts intersect for a season so as to bring about a richer, fuller expression of faith.

My Tuesday gals have been my “charge and keep” for a long season, my very “good gravy” and then some. They will continue on without me, for they have seen the merit of what it all means. I’m not sure if I’ll be facilitating another study come fall in my new home, but one thing is for certain.

I’ll carry my closet with me as I go. And should my new home have ample room for a “Beth Moore” closet, I’ll tenderly unpack each study, give them a place of individual prominence, and be thankful for the “good gravy” that has already come to me because of their presence in my life.

Thank you, Beth, Priscilla, Jennifer, Nancy, and Alicia. Most importantly, thank you Tuesday night gals for making Bible study a priority and Jesus Christ, all the more. He is our anchor, our Teacher, and our very great Reward. Keep to him all the days of your lives and see if he is not faithful to fill your plate with enough “good gravy” to keep you well fed for the pilgrimage home. I love you more than words will allow. As always…

peace for the journey,

PS: For those of you interested in simplifying your life and especially your home, Cindy at “Letters from Midlife” has done umpteen posts along these lines. You can find them HERE. Thanks, Cindy. I imagine that I’ll be revisiting your thoughts/words often in the weeks to come.

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