peace | Elaine Olsen

A Golden Moment…

November 22, 2008

I know this post is a bit pre-mature. With Thanksgiving at the door, an Advent post might seem hasty to some. But here’s the deal I made with God several months ago. He challenged me to spend my words as they come. Not to hoard them or store them up for a better day; that better day is today. Tomorrow is not promised to me or to you. Thus, I give you this post as it has arrived. I didn’t intend to write it; it simply wrote me and will probably end up being the family Christmas letter this year. I’m not sure I will be able to improve upon it in the days to come. May these simple thoughts be a point of beginning for you as you ponder the sacred worth of a Bethlehem pilgrimage. They are my gift to you. Peace for the journey, friends. Walk it well and find your Peace.

I had one of those rare moments yesterday. A moment that spins golden and breathes pure. A moment that is often easily missed if eyes and minds are focused otherwise. Fortunately, my eyes and heart were prone for the whispers of a better focus—

baby girl, asleep on the couch.

She really isn’t a baby anymore. She is six years old, but as my only “pink” in line behind three “blues,” she will always hold the title as my baby.

Rarely does she sleep during the day. She’s outgrown such habits, but yesterday’s quiet and the drone of the television lulled her into a late afternoon nap. Everyone else was somewhere else, and I was busy at the computer. When I hadn’t heard from her in a while, I went into the living and found her curled up on the couch. Instead of rousing her from her slumber, I gently picked up her frame and cradled her on my lap.

She barely noticed and continued with her ruffled breathing for the better part of an hour. I simply listened and held and prayed and cried some tender tears for the moment. It won’t be long before my cradling of her tiny body will be beyond my reach. Literally. But her heart? Always within reach. Always fit for my cradling, my holding, my praying, and my tears of celebratory and unwavering love.

She’s a gift to me. I never imagined her. As a single mother of two young sons, I never imagined much beyond my survival. But then Billy. And then the gift of a third son. And then a friend who jogged by my house one afternoon. She didn’t normally stop mid-jog, but that day she did. I answered her knock, and she boldly proclaimed to me that God had strongly spoken a word into her spirit while passing my house. God would give me another child. I laughed and said “thank you”… sort of.

I wasn’t planning on another child. We were working on sealing that deal when I began to notice a shift in my body. Something was going on. Baby girl was going on and, now, six years down the road, I am the better for plans gone awry. Plans that exceed my wisdom, my desires, my focus and my calendar. God interrupted my life with Amelia, and my heart (already so full to the brim with love for my family) ripped open once again to receive the gift of a daughter.

There was room enough to love a little pink, and just yesterday, I was reminded of the sacred privilege that I’ve been given to be her mother.

She’s growing so fast. So good and so full of fresh perspective. I see her take to her Jesus even as I took to him at her young age. She exceeds the Christian talk. She’s walking her Christian talk. And last night, as witness to the stirrings of her heart, she made a picture for me. It reads,

“I love Jesus. Jesus is the star. Jesus is the best! He rocks. He is the baby. He is the son of God.”

In her tiny, fragile, six-year-old way of understanding, my daughter weaves a pretty stable theology, don’t you think? It speaks of her love for the baby who shines as the Star of her stage. Not just any baby, but God’s Son who came to rock the world with his “best-ness.” Amelia “gets” her Jesus.

Her words are simple. Her faith is growing, and her heart remains, for the most part, untainted by the world’s insistence to the contrary. There will come a day for hurts … for her questions and for some unbelief. But right now, Jesus rocks. He’s the best thing she’s got going on, and she isn’t afraid to allow him some praise via her pen.

She’s teaching me … to use my pen to script his praise. It’s not always easy to be taught “faith” through the simple of a child, but I think, perhaps, our propensity toward making faith a difficult road could use a swift and prolonged detour to a couch and to the whispers of a younger season when innocence ruled the day.

There’s too much crowding in our lives, friends. We are concerned about a great many things while neglecting the tender pull of our heart strings. We long for life to sing its beauty, but rarely are we willing to pause for a listen. Beauty has never been absent. She has always been singing her song. But us? We have perfected our absence. We choose it every time we decide…

on busy over the best.
on chaos over the calm.
on computers over the couches.
on schedules over the sacred.

We miss the loveliness of a moment because moments can sometimes breathe so singular. So set apart and so seemingly unnecessary as it pertains to the whole.

Shame on us for not thinking that a single moment can change everything.

Single moments are the stuff of eternity. Single moments shape and sharpen and hone a heart for hugeness. Single moments breathe with the promise of a grander epic. Single moments collect and gather to form a destiny that exceeds the temporal and the seen.

I had one such moment yesterday. A single pause that spun golden. I held a child in my arms and knew that my life has been and will always be better because of the holding.

Over 2000 years ago, there came a moment that spun golden for another mother and her child. Months earlier, a friend of sorts stopped by her house and spoke a word of witness into her spirit.

“But the angel said to her, ‘Do not be afraid, Mary, you have found favor with God. You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end.’” (Luke 1:30-33).

A single moment. The stuff of eternity, and we are all the better for the holding of the Child.

In just a few weeks, we’ll relive that golden moment. Some of us travel to the manger with our reluctance. Some with our desperation. Some with our baggage. Some with our eager expectation, and a few rare of us, with our peace. We pilgrim to Bethlehem for various reasons. But for one little girl named Amelia, and one big girl named Elaine, we’re walking to the stable for one reason alone.

To glimpse God’s best. To witness the Son who has rocked our worlds with his arrival into our hearts. To give our Star the stage that he deserves and to applaud his performance with our hearty “hallelujah’s” and our grateful “amen’s”.

His name is Jesus, and he’s never too old for our cradling, our holding, our prayers, and our tears of celebratory and unwavering love. May your couch and your deliberate pause therein capture the glimpse of God’s best in this season.

Oh come, oh come, Emmanuel.

PS: Here are the winners for John Eldredge’s Epic. Now before you applaud me for my benevolence, realize that I’ve found a great new discount store in my neck of the woods that carries an awesome selection of books with rock bottom prices. I mean can you say looowwww? Anyway, I went in there yesterday to secure a few more copies and ended up buying what they had left. Eleven. Yes, that’s right. Eleven winners. Actually, twelve, but said preacher man stole a copy! I allowed Miss Pink to pick and here are the results. I’m not going to “link” your name (honestly, too much work for me, and I’m exhausted).

Beth E., Joanne Sher, Technonana, Laura, Denise, Sita, Susan, Lynn B., Stone Fox (Heidi), Sheryl, LauraLee. Congrats ladies. Email me your snail mail (full names please) even if you think I already have it. It will take me a few days to get everything in the mail, and if I see anymore at my new favorite hang-out, I promise to pick up some additional copies. Whew. Love you all! ~elaine

Room to Breathe (part two): My Consolation

November 12, 2008

“Now there was a man in Jerusalem called Simeon, who was righteous and devout. He was waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him. (Luke 2:25).

I am caught in a struggle this morning. A struggle that requires my penned obedience. A struggle that calls for some words that have yet to breathe and to find their home within my heart and upon this paper. I know they are here … simmering just beneath the surface of my chaotic thoughts, but getting them out into the open requires a bold and mighty wrestling.

I’m fighting for some words today because, quite frankly, I am not sure there is anything I could write that would embody as much passion and need as the last words I penned. How does one begin to trump the sanctity of life? What follow up could be written that would matter in comparison? At this moment in our nation’s history, could there be any other issue that warrants our more needful attention?

Some would suggest my need to “lighten up” a bit. To take a load off and to marinate my weary with some comfortable complacency. I would argue that this world’s collective propensity toward complacent and “lightened up” living has landed us on the current road of our confusion. We are people desperately wanting to live at ease with our convictions. The problem? Convictions were never designed with ease in mind.

Strong held convictions are deeply sewn into the fabric of our souls. When pulled upon by the arduous contrary of a rebelled cause, we cannot help but feel the tightening of their threaded grip. The resulting “ouch” is not permission for us to stay focused on the pain. Rather, it is God’s invitation for us to put voice to the pull and to put his convictions ahead of our comfort.

This is almost always … a difficult deliberate.

True and eternal conviction is never birthed through accidental measure. We don’t wake up one day with a sacred depth. We cultivate it through the intentional pursuit of the one God who created us with depth in mind. Who designed us with a heart and soul and mind capable of hosting embedded convictions.

God never intended for us to mealy mouth our way through important debate. He means for us to win the debate. Not with our words, but with his—with the truth of his Gospel written and firmly rooted within our hearts. With love-driven actions that boast the visible witness of such a holy planting. We are never more fully alive then when we are fully operating from the conviction of God’s Word within. All other living breathes temporary and complacent and less essential.

I’ve lived most of my life half-way. I am no longer content to do so. Thus, the struggle to find a mattering word this day.

I stand in good company. Not long ago, there was a young woman who faced a similar struggle … a wrestling with the word. She was given the awesome responsibility of bringing God’s Word to the world. She allowed her innocence to be cloaked with the perceived shame of an unplanned pregnancy, and rather than offering her objections in the matter, she simply bowed and offered her words of surrender that would seed eternal and that would convict everlasting:

“I am the Lord’s servant, may it be to me as you have said.” (Luke 1:38).

A difficult deliberate, indeed. It came to pass, just as the angel had said. The Word became flesh via her flesh. He walked among us. Died because of us. Rose again for us, and now lives forever through us.

What could be written to trump the sanctity of human life? What “follow up” could be penned that would trump my impassioned pleas for the life of the unborn child? There is only one Word that surfaces.

Jesus.

Emmanuel. God with us. The Author of human life. The One who found his voice because his mother allowed him the room to grow and breathe and become the certain and final consolation of all mankind.

In just a few weeks, Christians will celebrate Jesus’ birth by remembering his humble beginnings. At least we should, shouldn’t we? Or will that, too, fall prey to our complacency and to the world’s cry for us to “lighten up”? To resign our convictions in order to soothe the nagging ache of naysayers who can’t quite put their finger on their discontent?

Oh, my friends. Hear me if you will. Better yet, go with me if you can. Just for a minute to that stabled manger and hear the cries of our Consolation as he wrestles with our humanity and weeps because of our chosen and deliberate silence. It may sing as a Silent Night in our carols, but nothing could be further from the truth. The silence of our eternal dark was shattered that night through the obedience of one who whispered her “yes” and through the willingness of One who shouted his “YES” accordingly.

I don’t know just exactly how my Christmas season will breathe. But of this I am certain. Most of the world will miss Christmas this year because most of the world intends to do so. They will wrap and spend and shove their version of contentment beneath the tree, but true and lasting peace will never be found shoved beneath a tree.

Lasting Peace spent himself upon a tree—high and lifted up, unwrapped for all the world to review. Some wisely received him as their own, but most turned away. Most still do because most will choose complacency over conviction when given the choice. “Lightening up” has become the politically correct preference of our barely visible standards. It has also become the stench in our Father’s nostrils—an offense to the Consolation who cried his surrendered tears 2000 years ago so that we could fully live the freedom of salvation’s grace.

A baby named Jesus changed my life. If you know him as your Savior, then you can voice the same. We may not fully understand his incarnation. On this side of eternity, understanding comes in part. But there is coming a day of full perception, when the pull of our convictions will thread directly back to the heart of our Father. We will see the connection and be thankful for all of the difficult deliberates that have weaved for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.

It won’t be long, friends, so stay the course. Keep to the road. Keep to the Word and find your voice on his behalf. He is so worthy, and this is not the time to shrink back in our faith, but rather the time when we must stand as a bold witness to the convictions he threads the deepest. Thus, I pray…

Strengthen our convictions, Father, with the pull of your truth … with the depth of your Word. Forgive us for our silence and our willingness to concede our witness. May this season be the one in which we testify to the grace we have known, the forgiveness we have tasted, and to the sure hope we harbor for how this “thing” is all going to end. You are our end, God. Our Consolation and our Savior. Keep us willing and keep us certain … all the way home to your heart. Amen.

Thanks to Sassy Granny for the wonderful song and picture. Please head over to her blog today for her thought-provoking post, “Not in a Million Years.” Shalom.

Peace arrives in a tiny package…

November 7, 2008

It arrived on Wednesday. A good day for unwrapping the much needed necessary of my weary heart. A little,

peace …

for the journey.

Not long ago, I ran across an artist’s work that immediately captured my attention and my appreciation. Her name is Lisa Leonard, and like all true artists, she sees the world through a unique set of lenses.

As image bearers to the Master Artist, we share his capacity for creativity. Our Father fashioned our flesh with a bent toward creative expression. All of us…every last one of us…are artists. We paint stories with…

Our words. Our writings. Our music. Our cooking. Our acting. Our dance. Our paintings. Our teaching. Our leadership. Our singing. Our speaking. Our conversations. Our silence.

No one escapes the need for expression, for within each one of us is the impulse of our creative God. He placed our lives upon this earth to put voice to a story … his story. And somewhere within the telling, he hopes that others will be compelled to add their own lines to the script.

Lisa, at least in part, expresses her voice through her jewelry. Those of you who know me, know that I am not a fancy girl in search of a lot of “bling” to add to my bland. Lisa’s work exceeds bling. It breathes with a simple beauty that invites quiet contemplation rather than loud demonstration.

For a few months now, I’ve admired her work from the sidelines, and when my ladies at Bible study gifted me with a recent “thank you,” my thoughts warmed with the possibility of purchasing one of Lisa’s designs. The girls instructed me that the money was not to be used on my children or for bills, but rather to be used on something I wouldn’t normally buy for myself.

No further persuasion was needed. I ordered my necklace, and I couldn’t be more pleased with the results.

As a way of honoring Lisa’s creative expression, I want to gift one of you readers with a $20 gift certificate toward the purchase of your own, hand-crafted design. In addition, Lisa is offering a 20% discount to anyone who places an order for a design.

When ordering, simply type in the code “peace20” to receive your 20% discount. As for the $20 gift certificate, please leave a comment, and I will draw a winner on Monday. If you want to comment, but know that you won’t be able to use the gift, please indicate accordingly so that someone else has the opportunity to win. (*note: I will have a code available for you when you are ready to place your order that will deduct the $20 from total purchase.).

Thank you so much, Lisa, for your beautiful heart and life that shines through with each of your hand-crafted creations. Thank you, readers, for allowing me to introduce her to you. I won’t often do this on the blog, but I do believe in celebrating the many talents that God has scripted into each one of us.

Lisa Leonard certainly fits the bill. So do you. So get busy in tending to your creative side and allowing God to use it for his many kingdom purposes. Tell us about it in the comment section.

I love your hearts. I love that you consider me your friend, even though many of us have never met face to face. I love that you love Jesus, and most importantly, I love that we will one day share heaven together with Him. Until we get there, and while we walk here, may his constant presence be your portion, may his favor and blessing be your shadow, and may you always know his loving and abiding …

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Please take time to visit Lisa at her website and peruse some more of her handmade jewelry: http://lisaleonardonline.com/

This Moment…

November 5, 2008

“For the eyes of the LORD range throughout the earth to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to him.” (2 Chronicles 16:9).

Perspective.

Remember?

I woke up this morning, just as I have for the past forty-two years. With some moments and with an opportunity to make those moments count. To seed them with eternal thoughts and eternal doings or to limit them by ignoring the possibility of their worth.

I bet you woke in similar stride. If you’re reading this, then you did and, now, you have come to see what I have to say in the matter. A matter that matters for the kingdom, but not one that will impede the process. Rather, one that has been part of the process all along and has finally been given to us for the unwrapping.

Thank God. Seriously. Thank Him for the unveiling of an answer that has kept us captive to our “what if’s” for a long season.

Had I hoped for a different outcome? Yes. Did I weep some tears for the unborn child? You bet. But I did something else in addition to my disappointment. I gathered my family sometime after midnight, and we surrendered our tears in prayer to God. We laid our hopes and dreams and fears before the throne of heaven, knowing that our Father heard, understood, and then, listened to him as he asked for our understanding in the matter.

For a higher perspective that yields faith, obedience, and a heart that is willing to seed mercy and grace accordingly. For hands that are willing to get down in the soil and get to the business—God’s business—that exceeds a shift in Congress or the new residents of the White House. It includes them, but they are not the sum total of the whole.

They are part of the bigger picture, and alongside my country, I choose to stay focused on the role I’ve been given to play and the chapter I’ve been given to write. No one can do that for me. My story is mine to live, and these next few moments are mine to give to the world … to God. To stand and to kneel as the bridge between the two.

It is my joy and my privilege to do so. Thus, I pray for peace. Search for peace. Receive my peace, and go forward from this one moment, walking with peace. Peace is not some far off possibility or longed for conclusion. Peace shattered the night sky over 2000 years ago with the cries of his feeble flesh and his divinely rooted purpose.

A purpose that included moments of walking out the role he’d been given to walk, on an earthen soil he’d been given to save. Is Peace ringing his hands this morning? Is Peace heading to the local bar to drown his sorrows? Is Peace chaotically assembling his army for a showdown? Is Peace spreading more gossip seeded in fear? Is that the Peace you know?

If so, then may I be so bold to suggest that true peace will never be your portion?

Time for perspective, friends. Time for reframing and for some soul searching in the matter. Time for remembering who you are and who you belong to and for believing in a stronger and higher purpose that exceeds this one moment; not separated from this one moment, but rather lived in unison with a greater unseen whole that is walking its story in perfect cadence with our Father’s clock.

I love America. I love the fact that I’ve been given the privilege to call it my home. Do I think we are off course and could use a strong and bold revival in our land? I’m praying for it because I fully believe we are due its arrival. We are a needy and selfish people, both inside and outside of the church. Some of us our licking our wounds today. Some of us our celebrating a shift in leadership who has promised far more than any single person is capable of accomplishing.

Human nature is like that … always thinking it is up to us to solve the problems and the sin in the world. Too much of a load for any one man to carry. But One did. All the way to Calvary and back, fulfilling the role he had been given to play. The story he had been given to write.

His name is not Mr. President. His name is King Jesus, and he, alone, is my Peace this day. He’s yours too.

Pray for him. Seek him while he yet may be found. And then walk with him, in this moment and in the next, until all moments are gathered and collected and laid to final rest within the boundaries of a garden’s rest. Heaven. Forever.

A final unwrapping of a gift and an unveiling of an answer that has kept us captive to our “what if’s” for a long season. So be it, even so come.

Live it like you mean it, friends. This moment is yours to seed for eternity’s gain. As always,

Pressing In

September 29, 2008

“Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do; Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:12-14).

It’s an old truck that has been in the family for over fifteen years now, passed down through the hands of a father to his son, to his daughter, to her son, and then to another one of her sons. Four generations of a family have sat behind the wheel of this ’93 Chevy pick-up truck.

The world would level its worth as little more than scrap metal—old and washed up and one step away from a junk yard’s grave. But to my family, well, we level its worth a bit higher. Not because of its beauty, but rather because of its bloodlines. This truck originated with my Grandpa Al. He would only drive it a year before he passed away. My father then took ownership of it for several years until my eldest son was eligible to drive.

It seemed reasonable that he be allowed this “junker” to serve as his training ground for better things … better rides down the road. It did and has now been passed onto his younger brother who has given our treasured piece of family history a good and steady workout. Through all generations, the truck has been faithful to render its services whenever and wherever needed.

So what does one do with this faithful servant who’s been…

driven hard,
regularly neglected,
taken for granted,
looked upon with little regard,

until finally an accident causes its bumper to be pried away from the frame? What does one do with a fifteen year old vehicle that’s logged in over 100,000 miles, whose air-condition no longer works, and who hardly seems worthy of an expensive repair?

What do you do with an old faithful truck that’s in need of some servicing, even though the bank account dictates otherwise? I’ll tell you what you do.

You press it into an old faithful tree—one that can absorb the shock and that can realign the bumper back alongside its original frame.

It may not be picture perfect, but the tree coupled with the willing obedience to “press in”, yields a drivable vehicle that will service this family for a season longer, perhaps even a generation somewhere down the road.

As it is with our truck, so it is with me; perhaps, even with you.

What do we do when our frames begin to show the weary of a hard drive? A regular neglect? A taking for granted? A little regard for our necessary when so much more is needed?

What do we do when an accident pries our hearts away from the original frame—the Author of our frames? How do we respond when we know that a heart’s servicing is necessary, but when the bank account levels empty and incapable of such a transaction?

I tell you what I did.

I pressed into an old faithful tree—one that absorbed the shock on my behalf over 2000 years ago and Who is more than capable of my realignment every time that I am willing press into a necessary obedience.

It may not yield a full perfection at this time. But it’s coming. If not here, then there. And the time lived in between the two—my now and my next—I’m pressing in and I’m pressing on to take hold of everything for which Christ Jesus has taken hold of me. I am not sure what my “everything” looks like; in fact, I am fairly confident that God means for much of it to remain veiled. Why?

Because that which remains unseen is that which grows my faith.

When I cannot see beyond the fog that surrounds me, tree pressing becomes my required necessary. When my plans cannot be managed or manipulated by my well-intentioned will, God presses the issue by urging me toward an intentional pause and by asking me to trust him with a fast from the world’s noisy insistence.

There is strength to found in the silence, my friends. Deeply rooted strength that comes with spending time at the foot of God’s tree. I’ve found his strength again this past week, as I have waited before him in silence. It’s never been absent or unavailable to me. But I have been.

Absent and unavailable.

In part, because my priorities have been derailed. But mostly, in part, because I have traded in the sweet sound of his voice for the resounding gongs and clanging cymbals of the world’s shout.

It sometimes takes a fast to recognize the difference. And by pressing into God’s tree this week, I have witnessed the profound extreme between the two. I am no longer willing to make that trade because the melody that I recovered in this time is the sacred chorus that claimed my heart as a child. It has kept my singing for nearly four decades now and will keep me drivable—in good working order—and will service this heart for a season longer, perhaps even for the generation that is soon to follow.

I don’t know how your truck is driving this week, but if you are feeling a bit old and worn and pried away from your sacred frame, let my lesson be yours. If God is urging you toward an intentional pause, press into his tree and then press in some more until he re-aligns your heart with his. He can absorb our pain; this has always been the intention of the Calvary tree that he planted on our behalf over 2000 years ago.

Press in, child of God. Press on. Move on and take hold of all of that for which Christ Jesus has taken hold of you. Glorious perfection. Yours and mine, and thus I pray…

Pause me in silence, Father, each and every day for the sweet revelation of your voice. When I allow the world’s noise to drown out your melody, shut me down and bring me to surrender at the foot of your cross. Strengthen my frame for holy submission and press into my flesh the splintered reminder of the price you paid for my re-alignment. May I never lose the wonder of your cross and the glorious participation of your presence in my life. Never again, Father. Never again. So be it. Amen.

Copyright © September 2008 – Elaine Olsen. All rights reserved.

~elaine

It’s so good to be back with you; that being said, you can expect that I come back with some new parameters for blogging. You can expect to see me here twice a week, unless I have a spectacular urging from God that refuses my silence! I will be over to see you too, but with a much more reasonable approach. Thanks for your prayers. God’s been so faithful. You are all wecome here, and I value your presence in my life! Shalom.

Category Archives: peace