trust | Elaine Olsen

my Montana dream…

October 30, 2009

for “Montana” and for pilgrims everywhere who dare to dream it…

Wanderlust. That desire in each one of us to roam and to move beyond the current boundaries that cradle us in order to explore the wild unknown with carefree abandon. A search brought about because of an underlying “stirring of the soul” for something better … something purer. More peace and more pleasure.

I’ve thought about my “wanderlust” this morning. I didn’t mean to, but through an e-mail to my friend, Kristen, I was reminded about a piece I wrote over thirteen years ago. A season in my life when I was a single mother of two young sons dreaming about better days—a better time when all would be “right” within my soul. Those dreams always landed me in one place—

Montana.

I’ve never been there, but there is something about its vastness, its wide-open spaces and “heart of the land” kind of living, that unsettles me; stirring something within me, creating a hunger deep within my soul for something more. I no longer dream a great deal about moving to Montana, but the unsettled feelings? The stirring in my heart for something better, some soil beyond the current earth that supports my feet?

Well, it’s still there. It still flames, and one day soon, I’m going to get to my “Montana.” I believe its boundaries are closer to me than I might realize, thus strengthening my passion for my crossing over. Perhaps you understand something about “Montana’s pull.” If so, then I offer you a piece of my writing history to stir your own imagination and wanderlust for something better.

It’s not great writing, but it was my heart’s writing in 1996. Still is, and I suppose that makes it great all on its own.

***

MY MONTANA DREAM {written in 1996}

If I could move to Montana, I would. Life would be different there.

In Montana there would be plenty of space for me to be me. In Montana, I wouldn’t worry about wearing make-up or if my car was dirty or if my English was perfect. Jeans and flannel shirts would fill my wardrobe making me a “good fit” with the locals.

If I could move to Montana, I would buy the boys and me a cabin on the plains. It would have a warm kitchen where the sound of boiling water and the sight of tea bag would greet me each morning. Pancakes would start our day and cocoa would rock us to sleep at night. The light from the fireplace would warm our spirits and give us atmosphere for our nightly adventures within the pages of books. The three of us would crawl up on the couch with grandma Killian’s quilt and fight for the warmth and love of its cover.

In my Montana home, each of us would have our own hiding place. I would choose the attic room as my escape. In this place of escape I would hold myself captive. I would create new adventures on paper. I would search out the true meaning of my journey on this earth.

I could do that in Montana because in Montana, there is plenty of room for the search.

If I could move to Montana, I would own a pick-up truck. I would take my truck to the market whenever I needed food or just some company. I would park in my spot and visit the local meeting place, full of sojourners like myself, who understand the beauty of the simple life we share in Montana. I would stop at the post office to collect my remembrances from days gone by, and I would send out some new memories for those who’ve never been to my Montana.

If I could move to Montana, I would find a country church where I could sing my songs on Sunday mornings. I would voice the endless love of Jesus to everyone within earshot. In Montana, I could sing with great resolve and strength because the soil there is strong, vibrant, full of hearty livin’ and earthy understanding. The windows of my church would be open and the hills would dance to the delight of the message. In Montana, everything living could hear my voice.

In Montana … everything would understand why I had to sing.

When Christmas came to Montana, the boys and I would venture to our back yard and cut the chosen Christmas tree. We’d make decorations out of materials we’d found during our annual pilgrimage in Montana, and when we needed a break, we’d sit around the tree and drink more cocoa. We’d hang our stockings on the fireplace, and we’d listen to our favorite holiday music. We’d have lots of friends over to celebrate the season. We’d take our truck into town to see the lights and visit the stores.

If I could move to Montana, I’d learn to love more. Montana would be a good place for the three of us to learn about love. To learn about acceptance—accepting life and others and what it means to be accepted. We’d love so much that hate would never enter our home.

In Montana, I’d learn to love animals. In Montana, there are enough animals to love.

If I could move to Montana, I wouldn’t worry about “things” as much. In Montana, I would raise my boys to be “real.” In Montana, I would get healthy. In Montana, life would be simple. In Montana, dreams would be within reach.

If I could move to Montana, I would. But I live in Kentucky.

In Kentucky, there are no flannel shirts. There is no truck. There is no attic room, or no small country church. The Christmas tree will be bought at the grocery store, and I’ll never own an animal.

I may not ever live in Montana. But in my mind, I go there quite often. I hold onto Grandma’s quilt and dream my dreams for a more peaceful time.

Perhaps you understand. Perhaps we all have times where we long to be in Montana. Perhaps Montana is not big enough for all of us dreamers.

So, I will sing my songs in Kentucky. And maybe, just maybe, the wind will carry my songs over the miles to my long awaited Montana home. And they will wait for me there until I have the strength to make the journey myself.

Montana.

Someday.

Maybe today.

***
As always, sweet friends, God’s peace for the journey … wherever your feet are walking this weekend. I love you.

~elaine

sacred preservation…

October 19, 2009

I was fully prepared to write another post today, a post that God has graciously allowed me to tuck away for a season; maybe forever. Today he gave me a “pass” on something. Today his favor has come to me and my household in tangible measure, and I am humbled and grateful for his notice.

This is my man.

He is my strength and has been my able arms over the past week. We’ve created a beautiful home together. When God gave me Billy, he gave me a portion of heavenly grace—love as love was meant to be received. I’ve never known a better earthly love. Sure, my parents love me unconditionally. Parents do that, at least they should. But when another human being makes the choice to love unconditionally, well, that’s the stuff of earth’s movement, of hell’s frustration, and of heaven’s notice.

Our love has deepened over the past week; I look forward to more seasons with my man. To marking our grey hairs together and our ills and aches as well. I love you, Billy.

These are my children.

They are the reason behind my pressing on and pressing in to Jesus. The more I know him, the more I’m able to give him to them. They deserve my faithful pursuit of God. They are and will continue to be the recipients of my earnest chase and capture of the Divine. I love you, Nick, Colton, Jadon, and Amelia.

And you, blog readers, you are my friends. I have no doubts that the peace I’ve known over the past week has come to me in large part through the prayers of the saints. You are those saints. You know who you are. I called upon you for prayer, and your prayers have been felt … been heard and been answered.

Today I got a “pass” from God, and that is enough for me. Day to day living with Jesus is all that is required of us. Not tomorrow; not next week, but this very moment we hold in our hands. God reserves the right to all of those moments, no matter their length of earthly time.

When I awoke in the early morning hours, God impressed upon me a few words that I would like to share with you as I close. I thought them profound, even before I got my “pass.” I still think that to be the case…

“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.”

Preserve him well this week, and I will do the same. Nothing in this life, and I mean nothing, is worth losing the flavor of Jesus in us, on us, through us, all around us. Nothing. Tend to his divine preservation within your heart this day, knowing that the aroma you spread has the capacity to shake the foundations of hell. In doing so, the heavens sing their refrain, as our Father bends low for a listen. As always…

peace for the journey~

~elaine

a gracious grace revisited…

September 28, 2009

I want to tell you how I feel tonight.

That being said, feelings are sometimes a dangerous soil from which to write. Seeds planted there spring forth from the rawest point of the human condition, and I have not always found this to be the most profitable way to manage my emotions. I long to put parameters around my weekend, to somehow be able to express to you all that’s going on inside of me, but in doing so, I’m afraid my words will fail … won’t adequately capture the depth of what I’ve tasted.

I’m not sure I need to. Some moments are better left to the sacred sanctuary of our silence. But throughout the past forty-eight hours, and in the midst of my desire to bookmark this chapter in my life titled Little River UMC, I’ve come to a simple, yet grand conclusion about the weekend. A few words I’d like to serve as my “stone of remembrance” regarding the grace of God and just how far he has traveled on my behalf to bestow on me the gift of sacred participation in his kingdom work.

I love God and his Word more today than I did yesterday. I want to jump into the pages of Scripture and be part of the story. I want to bury my head in the midst of God’s truth until it spews out of my mouth and ears and hands and feet. I want to scour every inch of every word that’s been written in the Word until it becomes the final word behind my many words.

Why the passion? Why the urgency? Why the need?

Because yesterday God proved himself faithful … again. Yesterday, I stood as a living witness to the power and transformation of God’s Spirit existing within me. To be used by God and to know that this usefulness is happening as it happens is the greatest joy and confirmation I have ever known. It wasn’t the expressions on the faces of those who gathered that signaled to me my effectiveness; it was the impression I felt deep within my soul.

Yesterday, I made a heartfelt offering to God. In my time of preparation leading up to the event, I promised to give him my best—to be a student of his Word and then to take my “learning” and to share it liberally with his children. Tonight, my heart longs to watch the seeds of that sharing blossom into something more … perhaps some of the reason behind my stirring emotions this evening. But yesterday’s sowing belongs to another … to hands that are better able to grow all things in accordance with a master plan that exceeds my efforts at cultivation.

Father God knows best the next steps in the journey … both theirs and mine. I must trust him with the “finishing” work. In the meantime, he tells me that we’ve got some finishing to do on my end. That I should fix my eyes on the road ahead, cast a glance in a forward direction, and continue my tutelage under his capable leadership.

I want to be prepared for more moments of having my heart stirred by holy impression. Whether they come to me through a group setting, a one-on-one encounter at the local grocery store, in my home or around the table with friends, wherever and whenever kingdom seed is called for, I want my pockets full for the sowing.

I don’t want to have to do research when the world comes knocking. I want to live the research that has come to me through intentional study and preparation. I want to prepared, in season and out to give a reason for the hope that I carry within my heart.

Thus, I get back to the Word this week. I keep learning, keep listening, keep bending to the leading of my Father’s initiative. He has something more for me, and I plan on jumping into the pages of holy writ in order to find it.

Would you join me in the search? Pull up your chair alongside of me in God’s classroom to see what he might want to teach you? Would you open up the good book to a good story and take your place as an active participant in the scene? All of God’s Word stands ready for our willing participation. None of it is null and void of purpose. It’s still breathing with authenticity, with life, and with the power to change hearts, move mountains, and bring us to our knees in absolute wonder regarding its worth.

I want God’s wonder this week; I want the same for you. All of us, every last one of us, are given a measure of influence upon this earth. Let’s invest our portion toward kingdom end, and let’s do so in remembrance and thankfulness for the grace we’ve tasted. As always…

peace for the journey,

PS: You might remember me writing about Mr. Calvin and the strong impression he had on me when I visited Little River last year (click here to read). That’s him in the picture above. He found me during a session break, and when I invited him to sit in on the last session with the ladies, he went home, put on a suit and returned. Truly, he is one of God’s most precious saints. I’ll see you again, Calvin.

the preceding effects of Presence

September 24, 2009

for the one whose pain caught my attention…

I recently received an e-mail from a stranger. She needed a safe place for her thoughts; I was privileged to receive them. If ever anyone needed a “passing by” from the Lord, it was her. I imagine it still is her, for there are no easy answers to the heartfelt pleas… just a lot of pain and partial peace wrapped up together in a life that belongs to her.

I pondered her situation throughout the night hours and awoke the next morning to a familiar Scripture text found in 1 Kings 19. A long ago story about a man who deeply desired a “passing by” from his God. His “weary and well-worn” led him to the comfort of a mountain cave—a place known for its proximity to the presence of God.

“Then the LORD said, ‘Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the LORD, for the LORD is about to pass by.’ Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. Then a voice said to him, ‘What are you doing here, Elijah?’” (1 Kings 19:11-13).

God would not disappoint Elijah. Instead, God would come to him in full measure… in a way that is often missed by most of us. Whenever we read this story, we tend to focus on the whisper of God—the gentle, tender voice of comfort that is most needed in times of great despair. But in doing so, in relegating God’s whisper above the preceding manifestations of his presence, I think we miss a valuable teaching about the existence of Almighty God.

God’s living presence radiates from the core of his being, mirroring (in much smaller measure) the ripple effects we witness after a pebble is thrown into water. Where God is, isn’t defined by his frame. I have no idea what God looks like, but in my wildest imaginings, I’m tempted to give him a body—a contained perimeter in keeping with something that makes sense to me. But God is bigger than my imagination and far surpasses any box I am content to wrap around him. When God walks, the ripples of that walking extend far and wide announcing (well in advance) his arrival to the world.

And here’s what I think.

Could it be that the winds and earthquakes and fires that precede his arrival are just God’s way of letting us know he’s coming? That he is, in fact, on his way to us? That the wind cannot help but sway with the reality that his feet are on the move? That the rocks cannot help but split and crack because they better feel the weight of his gravitational pull? That fires cannot help but fan into flames because of the intensity fueling his intention? Why are we surprised when we experience the wind, the movement of the earth beneath our feet, and the heat of a fire around our souls prior to his arrival?

Earth, better than humanity, recognizes the approach of its King.

“Clouds and thick darkness surround him; righteousness and justice are the foundation of his throne. Fire goes before him and consumes his foes on every side. His lightning lights up the world; the earth sees and trembles. The mountains melt like wax before the LORD, before the Lord of all the earth.” (Psalm 97:2-5).

God’s presence extends beyond his whispers. We do not often see him in these preceding moments of our sometimes excruciating circumstances. Many of you, this day, are in the midst of some earth-shattering situations. Pain and conflict are your portion, and you are tempted to keep your eyes fixed in the present rather than looking beyond to the Presence whose comforting whispers are soon to follow.

If we could get that, if somehow we could begin to see the wind, the earthquake, and the fires of our today as the beginning manifestations of God’s rippling presence, then, perhaps, we’d anchor ourselves tighter to the truth of a soon and coming sacred whisper. Our faith would grow with the expectation that what is currently seen and felt will soon be tempered and relieved by the unseen breath of God speaking his comfort into our chaos.

God is on the move, friends. He is in the business of “passing by” your way. He comes with intention and purpose and with the rippling effects that have always preceded his arrival. This doesn’t mean his coming has caused your earthquake, it simply and profoundly means that his presence cannot be separated from the world’s notice.

And the last time I checked, the prince of this world (the one whose sole intent for our lives is to steal, to kill, and to destroy) was very disturbed by the coming of the King. When God moves, so does he. Satan is the author of chaos and confusion, and he will go to great lengths to make sure you miss the arrival of your Father.

I do not fully understand the condition of human suffering, what’s allowed us by God and what we miss because of his grace. I don’t know the length of the leash that’s been extended to the enemy. It’s a hard wrestling for me, and at the end of the day, I concede those answers to my King. But just this night as I think about my new friend and her pain and the pain of so many who are desperately running to God’s mountain in hopes of receiving God’s whispers, I cannot help but imagine the rippling effect of God’s presence.

The winds … the earthquakes … the fires that precede his whispers. And somehow I am comforted, and all seems reasonable and acceptable to me.

Hang on for God’s whispers, friends. They are coming, just beyond these rippling effects of God’s approaching steps. The earth better understands the arrival of its King. It cannot help but be shattered by the thought and, therefore, bow in surrender to his steps. Neither can I.

May God’s good comfort and abiding presence be with you all this day as you seek him on his mountain. You are my friends, and you fuel my passion for knowing our Father at the deepest level. Thank you for sharing the road with me. As always…

peace for the journey,

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"see to it"…

September 16, 2009

“Tell Archippus, ‘See to it that you complete the work you have received in the Lord.’” (Colossians 4:17).

Last evening, I rushed home from our Bible study launch of Priscilla Shirer’s “one in a million” to participate in an on-line conference hosted by A Women Inspired. I missed most of the first session, but was excited to learn that my girl, Kristen from Exemplify, was hosting the second session. Like most of us in blogland, Kristen and I have yet to make a face-to-face connection. Thus, I was all the more eager to at least “hear” her voice; it didn’t matter much to me what she would be talking about. She could have talked fashion for all I cared; I would have listened (despite my careless attitude along those lines). It wasn’t the content I was after. It was the relationship. But my sister had a word to further validate the person she is … the person I’ve grown to love and admire throughout my time in the blogging world.

A simple, tender admonition to “see to it”. See to the work you have received in the Lord. She repeated the phrase throughout her presentation, and at one point, inserted my name into the mix (she knew I was there because participants are on-line “chatting” while the presenter is speaking).

“See to it, Elaine, see to it that you complete the work you have received in the Lord.”

I’ve thought a lot about that “charge” in the past fourteen hours, and I’ve asked the Lord a few questions along these lines. What is the work I have received from you Lord? What are you calling me to complete? What are the unfinished “chapters” that need words and punctuation and thematic flow? What is the work that is mine to conclude, and what is the work better left to someone else’s conclusion? Show me, Father, my place in your kingdom plan.

I went to sleep pondering my thoughts; I awoke with the same and then “happened” upon Mark 8:22-25 in my time of morning devotion.

“They came to Bethsaida, and some people brought a blind man and begged Jesus to touch him. He took the blind man by the hand and led him outside the village. When he had spit on the man’s eyes and put his hands on him, Jesus asked, ‘Do you see anything?’ He looked up and said, ‘I see people; they look like trees walking around.’ Once more Jesus put his hands on the man’s eyes. Then his eyes were opened, his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly.”

Today, like the blind man, I linger on the outskirts of Bethsaida with my questions regarding my “see to it”. My eyes vision partial; my heart all the more. Where I desire clarity, there are trees walking around. I am not alone in my contemplations; my Savior is here with me. In fact, he led me here by his hand and is administering his own form of clarity in the matter. He reminds me that clear vision takes faith, takes trust, and takes the necessary steps toward having trees turn into people. Dreams turn into realities. Hopes turn into the “surety and certainty” that roots me back to the Author and Perfecter of all “see to it’s”.

Seeing clearly begins with a willingness to walk with the Father to the outskirts of the village where we normally reside. Normal, usual, and daily routine don’t typically birth clarity regarding our “see to it’s”. Taking time to be Jesus in quiet isolation, away from life’s distractions, brings perspective. It is in those moments when we best pay attention to the hands of Christ’s administration over our needs. His “see to it’s” for each one of us are best seen when we can clearly hear the whisper of our names on his lips, offering us his tender admonition:

Elaine, do you see anything? What is coming into focus for you? See to it, child, see to the work you have received in my name.

How about you, friend?

____(your name)___, do you see anything? What is coming into focus for you? See to it, child, see to the work you have received in my name.

Today I have ample time for the contemplation because I am well aware of the human condition—the limits our bodies allow us to travel before putting a “halt” to our intentions, our lists, our “seeing to it’s”. It’s been looming for a few days now (read my last post). I’m fighting its arrival with plenty of prayer and over-the-counter wisdom, but even then, a “halt” has become my necessity.

Rather than seeing this day as a day lost regarding my many “lists”, I’m investing this time with my Father on the outskirts of my normal and asking him for his hands to sharpen my vision along the lines of my “see to it’s”. I believe him for as much, and I am exceedingly grateful for these moments I’ve been given to step aside with him in isolation.

I pray the same for you in the days to come. God has given each one of us some “see to it’s”. There are seasons when it’s hard to clearly determine his intentions along these lines, but as we take time to be alone with Jesus, he takes the time and is more than willing to sharpen our focus and to strengthen our steps for the duration and completion of the ordained works he has placed in our hands.

So in the words of the Apostle Paul, and in the words of my good friend Kristen, see to it today. See to Jesus. Be with Jesus. Walking trees are just the beginning of a sharper beholding. As you are faithful to hang on for more, God is faithful to reveal to you his more. As always,

peace for the journey,

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