Category Archives: peace

Running my Peace…

Running my Peace…

“… You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body.” (1 Cor. 6:19b-20)
 

I just got in from my run. It felt good… almost sacred. The time is fast coming when I’ll have to put running away for a short season. I can’t imagine myself running then… after surgery. So I don’t… imagine. Instead, I run in my today, because today is all I have been given and because running is a discipline that has been part of my life for twenty-five years.

I’m a runner. Not a fast one, but what I lack in speed I make up for in obedience. I’m a deliberate runner. A runner who chooses to lace up her shoes even when her heart lags behind. Why? Because running is good for my body. In doing so, it also serves the well-being of my mind, heart, and soul. It’s a way of honoring this temporal flesh that, for reasons beyond my understanding, God has chosen to make for his dwelling.

My flesh doesn’t belong to me. Neither does yours. We think that it does; spend a great deal of time and money pretending that it does, but the truth is…God paid a high price for our flesh—the flesh of his One and only Son. Accordingly, it belongs to him… all of it. No body part is exempt. I understand this more fully now; I thought I had a pretty good understanding prior to my diagnosis, but now the focus has become clearer.

In my quiet time yesterday morning, I handed over my flesh to him again. Over the course of my forty-four years, I’ve come to the altar in the matter of my flesh on many occasions. Time and again, God has been faithful to gather up my remnants and cradle them as his own. Today he cradles them again; today he cradles more of me—my all. What remains of my flesh is all that I have left to offer him. Long ago, I settled the matter regarding my heart. It’s been God’s for as long as I can remember, but I imagine my flesh has been lagging behind.

No longer, my friends. No longer. And here’s what I’m thinking about tonight…

God’s kingdom is an everlasting kingdom. It’s an enduring kingdom. It’s going to go forward regardless of my fleshly surrender. Therefore, I have two choices standing before me in this season:

To be a participant in God’s kingdom or to remain as an outsider.

I’m in… all in with God and his kingdom plan. In this time of change for me and my family, I pray you won’t find me on the sidelines of faith; I pray that, instead, you will find me leading the charge… staying the course and shouting the victory every step of the way. I want to keep running, friends, especially on those days when my flesh cries out for complacency. I want to keep doing what I’ve been doing for as long as I can remember.

I want to keep living Jesus, out loud and on purpose. It’s all I know to do.

I want to close this post with some thoughts from one of my favorite authors, Alicia Chole. In her book Anonymous she shares an important, life-changing truth that embedded its witness into my heart upon my first reading it a few years ago. Almost immediately upon receiving my cancer diagnosis I thought upon it. It’s been my shadow over these last few days. With Alicia’s permission, I share it with you tonight:

Marie was a very private person, but when she opened up the door to her personal life you needed to take notes. I always called her with a journal open and a pen poised. This woman was profound. And like most truly profound people, she was intimately familiar with pain. One day, Marie told me about a friend who visited her in the hospital after her third miscarriage. Trying to console her, the well-meaning friend had said, “You know, Marie, God is going to make you even stronger through this.”

My mentor smiled, thanked her friend, and thought about her words for several days. Relaying the hospital conversation to me, Marie explained that though she appreciated her friend’s intention, she questioned her friend’s conclusion about the purpose of pain. Marie ended our time together that day with the thought: “I feel that trials do not prepare us for what’s to come as much as they reveal what we’ve done with our lives up to this point.”

As Marie considered the pain of her third miscarriage, she realized that her response to this trial was less of a window into her future than it was a window into her past. Her current choices reflected and revealed her past choices. How had she responded previously when her dearest dreams perished in her womb? Did she withdraw from God in bitterness or come near to him with her unanswered questions? Had she tried to outrun the pain, or had she given herself permission to grieve and let the tears wash her wounds? The choices of her yesterdays were revealed through the window of her responses to her current trial.

In other words, trials tell us less about our future than they do about our past. Why? Because the decisions we make in difficult places today are greatly the product of decisions we made in the unseen places of our yesterdays. (Alicia Chole, Anonymous, Integrity Publishers, 2006, pg. 14-15).

What decisions are you making in your today that will better prepare you for your tomorrow? Are you currently complacent regarding your faith? Are you tending to your soul? Are you taking time to study God’s Word and to be in fellowship with other Christian believers who are building your faith rather than tearing at your resolve? Are you working in your churches? Are you praying every day? Are you listening to the promptings of God’s Spirit within? Are you participating in God’s kingdom cause? Are you speaking your faith? Are you loving God, knowing God, celebrating God, believing God?

If you are, then you can be certain that when tough times role your way, you will be well-equipped to handle the struggle. If you’re not, then it is time to start making some better choices today. Time to start deliberately living your faith, friends. Time to step it up and keep pace with the King. It’s what I plan to do in my “next.”

Cancer may be my “next,” but so is Jesus. I’ll be doing them both—cancer and Jesus together. I’ll be living them both with a kingdom view in mind. I pray your willingness to join me on the road. As always…

Peace for the journey,

~elaine

PS: I cannot begin to express to you my heartfelt thanks for all the many kindnesses you’ve extended to me in the past few days. There simply isn’t any way to make it around to all of your blogs and weigh in with my paltry “two-cents” right now, but as I can, I will visit you, because I dearly love you each one. Every now and again, I’ll give you a health update. Here’s the short version for tonight:

I had an MRI this morning in Greenville. After much thought and prayer, we’ve made the decision to stick with the breast oncologist there. He’s incredibly kind, and the man knows breasts! He’s also a man with a plan who is ready to move on with surgery, etc. We’ll be traveling back there on Monday to discuss the results of the MRI and how we will proceed. I imagine that things will move quickly. I want to take a moment to thank Rev. Homer Morris of Jarvis Memorial UMC for graciously gifting us with a motel room in Greenville last evening so that we wouldn’t have to endure a lengthy travel time this morning prior to my 7:00 AM appointment. I also want to thank my good friend, Judith, for receiving my many cancer related questions like “What is an MRI?” and “What should I wear?” (The bedpants and warm socks were a life-saver friend!). And of course, I want to give a special shout-out to my parents and Billy’s parents for being willing to make the trip to help us with childcare. Truly, you know what it means to “circle the wagons,” and we are so blessed to have you with us to love us as only a momma and daddy can do.

Praying my Peace…

Praying my Peace…

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Phil. 4:6-7)
 
 
Before I write my heart to you this morning, I need you to know this one thing up front:
 
I’m writing from a place of prayerfulness and peacefulness in the Lord… emphasis on the “fullness.” With prayer comes peace. It’s God’s promise to us as his children. Several years ago, I memorized this portion of Scripture because it was a promise I could hang my heart on—a truth that has proven truthful to me time and again as I have been faithful to meet the requirement therein…
 
To pray about everything.
 
Prayer is directly connected to the thoughts of our hearts and minds. Keeping connected to the King in prayer is a fail-safe way of taking all thoughts captive and making them obedient to Christ. When we’re talking to him, listening to him, sharing life with him in the most personal of ways, we experience one of the purest, most holy avenues of worship we’ll ever know on this side of eternity. When we pray, we acknowledge our humanness and our righteousness all in the same breath. Prayer is the link between our flesh and our faith, between our hearts and God’s.
 
Prayer is a gift and a privilege and the one reason I am able to type this next sentence with a strong measure peace in my heart.
 
My good and kind friends, I have breast cancer.
 
Yesterday marked the beginning of my official diagnosis. Today marks the beginning of my living within the reality of what all of that means. I imagine it’s been with me while—the cancer—hiding quietly in the lower quadrant of my right breast. Three weeks ago a mammogram detected a discrepancy which led to further tests which led to a biopsy which led to yesterday’s labeling. And while it has come as a shock to my family (and rightly so) there is a deep sense of understanding and “settling” within my spirit. I can only attribute that kind of personal peace to the prayers and the faith that have been lived out prior to this moment in time.
 
God has well-prepared me for the road ahead, friends. I haven’t a clue as to the particulars, and I’m certain that there will be times of confusion, pain, questions, and tears. But I’m also certain that there will be times of clarity, answers, joys, and victories. This morning, I’m reminded of something that God scripted onto my heart a season back when a similar “threat” loomed on my horizon (first written in this post). He has embedded it into my thoughts over time; it will serve as an anchor for me in the days to come.
 
“It doesn’t matter how long God chooses to preserve my earthly life. What matters is how I choose to preserve him in the earthly life I’ve been given.”
 
Pray that I preserve him well each step of the way. And if you would, please pray for my family—that God would give them, each one, a similar measure of peace and strength for the journey ahead. We walk it together, you and me and them. It’s what Christians do best—corporately loving and living out our kingdom conferment. You bless me with the gift of your friendship—your sacred participation in my life; I need it now more than ever. As always…
 
Peace for the journey,

~elaine

"peace for the journey: in the pleasure of his company"

Every now and again, a day lives beyond predictable expectation. Routine is replaced with something different, and ordinary succumbs to the shadows of something extra. Today is one of those days for me. I’ve spent the last five years contemplating its arrival, imagining how it might “live” for me… to finally arrive at this point in my writing journey where my thoughts are gathered together between a front cover and a back one to serve as a collective offering of my heart to Jesus and his world.

Today, my imagination is put to rest, at least temporarily. Today, I experience the fruition of a dream that was embedded into my spirit long before I ever held a pen in my hand. It was a dream given to me at the earliest of ages by my father whose imagination coupled with his love for telling the “story” worked their magic into the fabric of my fragile understanding about how life should live—

With details.
With expression.
With questions.
With emotions.
With the expectation for a good ending.

My daddy never failed to bring about that good ending. In doing so, in giving a good finish to the sometimes wild and fantastic bedtime tales that he created in his mind, he painted for me a rich metaphor about how the “story” will end for me, for all of us who’ve come to know and to love and to trust the Storyteller. God’s finish doesn’t live without punctuation, friends. The blessed “amen” will come for each one of us, and we will be at final rest with our souls.

But until we arrive there, there is a journey to be walked… a story to be lived via our flesh. Along the way and as we go, I don’t imagine much of it will live as we anticipated on the front end of our book’s unfolding. The chapters in our lives have a way of keeping us on the edge of our seats in anticipation of the next page, the next plot twist, the next narrow escape, the next victory—all of which are certain to be part of this odyssey we call the Christian life.

Today’s book release is my next page—not the only page in my journey, just one of them. A day of something “extra.” A day of living a little bit beyond the “routine and normal” that usually fills a twenty-four hour period in my life. I don’t take it for granted; it is a gift of gracious grace offered to me by the Storyteller who has seen fit to allow a small portion of kingdom influence to flow through my pen. What God chooses to do with that portion and where he chooses to take it belongs to him and him alone. I’ve long since given up on trying to manipulate and manage his “story.” It’s simply and profoundly too big for my menial attempts at human administration. Still and yet, God affords me a moment or two of personal witness—of interjecting my “two cents” worth of sacred understanding into the mix—knowing that even the smallest offering of my heart will add to the beauty of a final masterpiece that will one day adorn the throne room of heaven.

And so, without any further words of coaxing regarding that offering, I give to God and to you this book—a little bit of “peace for the journey.” In doing so, I pray and humbly petition the Father that, through this offering of my heart, you will more fully know the Storyteller and what it means to rest “in the pleasure of his company.” He’s been my pleasure for forty-four years. He is my pleasure today. He’ll be my pleasure for all eternity.

To order your copy of “peace for the journey: in the pleasure of his company” visit any of the following websites (please note… some of these venues offer FREE SHIPPING when ordering multiple copies):

 

If you live in my area and want a signed copy of the book, please check with me later in the week as I am expecting a shipment of books. Also, I am giving away three copies of my book to readers who leave a comment on this blog post (you do not have to have a blog to leave a comment; simply sign-in as an “anonymous” commenter, leaving me an e-mail address so that I can notify you if you win). In addition, you can increase your odds of winning a copy by promoting the book in the following ways:

1. Announce the book on your facebook status–either linking back to this post or linking the video trailer to your status: video trailer

2. Announce the book by writing your own blog post, linking back to this particular post, adding the video trailer to your post by using the embed code found with the youtube link: (if you don’t know how to do this and want to include it, e-mail me, and I’ll walk you through it… very simple).

If you choose to do either or both of these, make sure that you leave a separate comment on this post informing me of each, thus increasing your odds for a win!

Thanks for helping me out, friends. Truly, you are more than I deserve, and I am grateful for your participation in my life. You make me want to be a better writer, thinker, seeker, and sojourner on the road toward peace—Jesus Christ. As always…

peace for the journey,

PS: A final word of thanks to Shirley and Susan (a.k.a. “runner mom”) for adding their artistic expression to the photographs found in the book trailer and for Susan’s photography found in the book. Your generous hearts have given me “peace” in this journey of publication and have added to the overall beauty of the book. I love you both!

Walking my Peace…

“As he approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it, and said, ‘If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace…’” (Luke 19:41-42).

I had a bad dream last night. Not surprising considering the events that preceded my final surrender to slumber. I’d already had my good dose of going-to-sleep, Bible reading and was happily drifting away when I heard the slamming of car doors on my front lawn. I awakened Billy and asked him, “Did you hear that?” As if.

He hadn’t. I ran to the dining room window to discover two trucks on our front lawn. Because of some recent car break-ins in our neck of the woods, I was certain that the bandits were making their rounds to my beat-up van, chock full of remnants from a day’s work in the attic that were soon to find a new home at the Salvation Army. My husband commented it would be a blessing if the robbers would cart the stuff off thus, saving him a trip. After pulling on his britches, he headed outdoors to take a look around. Alas, no bandits, only EMT workers responding to a neighbor’s call across the street.

Once I was back in bed, my adrenaline was still pumping and my mind began to entreat all the possible scenarios of what “might have been.” It took a long time for me to resettle my thoughts and move back to the calm I had previously known, but eventually I drifted off to sleep.

To a bad dream.

I won’t go into the particulars, but safe-to-say, it involved a couple of missing children… my children. Seems ridiculous even typing that now; dreams always have a way of living bigger when they’re “in the moment” and happening upon the stage of the subconscious. At the time, the feelings I felt were very real and enough to arouse me from my slumber. Once fully awake, I went upstairs to check on my children and returned to my thinking… about how the earlier wanderings of my mind might have contributed to a bad dream. About how God tells me to bring all thoughts captive to him and to allow him to reframe them in accordance with his truth.

And when I did, when I began to hash this dream out with God, I remembered my previous going-to-sleep, Bible reading from Luke—Jesus’ words that said,

‘If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace…’

And then I remembered what would bring me peace.

Jesus.

And then I was incredibly thankful for this one truth that I, in fact, do know and do hold as my abiding truth in all my times and situations, both day and night.

Jesus Christ and the promise of his peace.

Jesus no longer weeps over my ignorance as he did on that day when he stood on the threshold of a painful surrender. He doesn’t look down from heaven today and shed a tear regarding my willful neglect of his truth. I imagine he still cries for others who’ve yet to make that leap of faith-filled understanding, but as for me and my faith, I’m securely anchored to Jesus and to the pilgrimage of Easter that we walk together this week. His story is my own. His life and death and resurrection belong to me, even as it belonged to those who stood by to watch it in living color 2000 years ago. The words he echoed through his tears back then are the words he echoes still… words he’s entrusted to me and to you for the telling.

We are God’s peace-ambassadors, his kingdom peace-keepers, peace-makers, peace-tellers. We are the living color, flesh-and-blood carriers of our Savior’s truth, and should we choose to remain silent, the rocks will rise up to take our place. God is just that good. His truth is just that pure. His life is just that real. His love is just that much. So good and pure and real and much that even the stones of creation cannot contain their voices regarding his authenticity.

I want to be found as faithful. I want to herald the truth of Easter, and I want the anchor of God’s peace sustaining me on all occasions, whether the moon or the sun is governing the light. Today, I know what brings me peace because long ago I “recognized the time of God’s coming to me”, and I received his story as my own. I live it again this week as I walk to Calvary to remember, to reflect, and to renew my heart as an Easter child with an Easter inheritance to share.

A very good dream. A very certain reality.

God’s Peace. God’s Son. God’s Gift. God’s Grace.

The Truth behind Easter.

Remember Christ well this week; live Christ all the more. I’ll meet you at the empty tomb. As always…

peace for the journey,
~elaine

PS: The winner of the pay-it-forward giveaway is Leah @ The Point. Congrats, Leah. Please send me your snail mail via my e-mail, and as soon as the book arrives in the mail to me, I’ll send it your way along with a few extras. Enjoy.

walkabout…

Loose ends.

We all live with some. I don’t imagine there is a day that goes by when a loose thread or two don’t dangle their insistence before our eyes and within our hearts, thereby challenging us to trust in something bigger, Someone bigger, to weave them into the fabric that we call our lives.

I’ve had a thread or two or five or ten over the past few months. Some of them still dangle before me. Some of them, thankfully, have been picked up by the capable hands of Jesus and have begun to add their color to my canvas. I can’t see the fullness of their beauty, not yet. But as a woman of faith—a woman who is learning the road of the “ancients” of Hebrews 11—I’m believing God for their worthiness. It’s all I can do when I cannot see the road in front of me. I can only see the One who leads me, and that is enough for me, friends, for He is my “next.”

It’s been a little over two weeks since I put the final punctuation on the manuscript I began back in August of last year. The idea had been stirring in me for some time, but after walking through a week-long, intentional time of searching my Father’s heart (thanks, Lisa!), God confronted my heart regarding my faith and the lack of it therein. It was during that time, that the topic of my next written work came into clear focus; I’ve spent the past seven months writing that focus and have now completed my thoughts. The tentative title?

On Walkabout with the King: stepping the path of an ancient faith. (You may remember me talking about it here.)

Fifty thousand words and forty reflections later, I am well-pleased with the resulting conclusion. Not the words necessarily, but the work that has been accomplished because of those words in me and that will continue to work through and out of me in the days to come. We cannot delve into the lives of our spiritual ancestors and remain the same. Not really. Certainly we can give them a casual glance, take note of their faith and their “settled confidence” in God, but if we dig deeper for further clarification regarding their faith and how their faith pertains to ours, then we will be changed. It is God’s promise to us.

“This is what the LORD says: ‘Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls. But you said, ‘We will not walk in it.’” (Jeremiah 6:16).

I have found some rest for my soul. I’ve stood at the crossroads and asked for the ancient paths. I’ve seen their faith in living color and applied it to my daily walk. Why? Because I desire nothing more than to be a woman of faith… a woman who steps in the paths of her spiritual ancestors. A woman who isn’t just “all talk” and no “walk.” A woman who isn’t afraid to make the same journey that they made. A woman who is willing to pick up her tent, even as Abraham picked up his tent, pack up her family, in order to keep in step with her King’s directives.

Today marks the beginning of that odyssey, friends. Today, my husband and I stood before our congregation to make the announcement that the Bishop of the United Methodist Church has issued the call for us to move this June. It wasn’t an easy announcement. We’ve invested the past six years of our lives into this church and surrounding community. The work of our hands dwarfs in comparison to the investment that we’ve made with our hearts.

We love our people, and we’ve loved them fully.

It’s not always been perfect. Loving in the flesh always leaves the door open for mistakes on both ends. That being said, we’ve always loved willingly, kindly, and with enough open honesty to admit our frailties in the matter. When love loves that way, then love blooms, and today, my arms aren’t big enough to hold the bouquet that I’ve been given. Today, my bouquet overflows with the witness of the colorful blossoms that have been lavished upon me over the past six years. How thankful I am for the garden that God seeded on my behalf long before my moving van ever crossed the Wayne County line six years ago. How thankful I am for the seeds that he’s planting now somewhere else.

I don’t know where that somewhere else will be friends, nary a clue. We won’t know until the end of April. But God knows, and to a lesser degree the Bishop knows, and that is enough for me. Did you hear me? Just in case you missed it…

God’s knowing is enough for me.

Seven months ago, it might not have been enough, but today, his enough proffers as certainty rather than maybe. If I’ve learned one thing from the “ancients” who are listed in the Hebrews’ Hall of Faith, I’ve learned that our God can be trusted with our futures. Why? Because he is our future, he is our “next,” and I intend on keeping one hand on the hem of his garment and one hand around the waist of my family until his hem crosses me over that finish line, and I find a final and perfect rest for my soul.

It’s all I can do—keep holding on and keep believing in the One whose cloudy pillar is on the move. God has asked a great thing of me; it’s not easy to pack up six lives and move them in accordance with God’s directives. But God’s great asking is in keeping with my faith’s cultivation; he’s not asking anything of me that he didn’t ask of his people long ago. And so, like those from my spiritual lineage, I cast my eyes to the horizon this night and remember that I am but a stranger on loan to this alien country. That there is a better country coming, and that this one isn’t it. This one only serves as the bridge between what has been and what will be. And the steps taken in between the two?

The walkabout of faith.

I’m on it; so is my family. So are you, and so is our King. He can be trusted with the road ahead, so let us all take hold of his hem and press on, believing that the “what and the where” that is to come is exactly the journey he has intended for us all along.

Sweet trust. Sweet rest. Continuing…

peace for the journey.

~elaine

Copyright © March 2010 – Elaine Olsen

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