Category Archives: trust

By faith, elaine…

By faith, elaine…

“Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. This is what the ancients were commended for. By faith we understand that the universe was formed at God’s command so that what is seen was not made out of what was visible.” (Hebrews 11:1-3).

By faith…

Faith Elaine that is.

Forty-three years ago today. Easter morning. Father standing behind a pulpit preaching about life issuing forth from the tomb. Mother lying in a delivery room earning bragging rights about life issuing forth from her womb. Both having something to say in the matter. Both cradling the blossoms of Spring—a Savior and a longed-for baby.

By faith, both blossoms were received into the lives of two parents who longed for their arrival. One into their hearts; the other into their arms. It was a good day for Chuck and Jane for so many reasons. It was a good beginning for Faith Elaine for so many more.

In both the literal and in the spiritual sense, the cross of Jesus Christ has shadowed my steps for the past forty-three years. Regardless of my wanderings to the contrary, the empty tomb has been my haunting—my known truth and my accepted understanding all the days of my life. There has never been a time when I believed otherwise. Jesus has always been real to me.

My journey with God is a “by faith” kind of thing. A deeply rooted belief in something grander, someone Greater who keeps the ebb and flow of my days in check. Who simply says and IS, and therefore, is worthy of my believing.

There have been moments of clarity along the way. The well-worn paths to the altar of my surrender are stained with tears of deeply rooted repentance and understanding. Times when I have strengthened my faith with a more intentional and willing trust in a God who longs to consecrate my life toward holiness. But from the very beginning, my life has been filled a knowing perception of God.

I’m thankful for that. It’s been a gift that has spared me untold heartaches … of that I am sure. And while I’ve had some questions along the way, never have the answers (some obvious, some still awaiting their voice) swayed me in my belief of an unseen, yet profoundly “felt” God.

God and me … well, we just go together.

And lest you think it is pride thing—that somehow I think I hold the market on what it means to walk a life in complete faith and holiness—then you don’t really know me at all. For if you did, you would understand that it is only by God’s grace, only by this “going together” seemingly from my beginnings, that I’ve made it to my 43rd birthday with any “absolutes” in my bag. If God hadn’t presented Himself to me early on in my life, I’m confident that I wouldn’t be presenting Him to you as the Savior and Keeper of my soul. Why?

Because I love this world too much. I am easily enticed by its trappings. It invites me, tangles me, and has the propensity to hold me to the contrary of everything sacred. I know that we are all prone to our struggles along these lines, but, perhaps, there are those of us who struggle with it more profoundly. I am one such struggler. Accordingly, I’ve needed the grounding of my Easter morning birth.

To walk my life in the shadows of a splintered cross and an empty tomb has been to walk in Truth. It is the way of sacred pilgrimage. It has been my way, much as it has been the way of the ancients of old. The “by faith’s” of Hebrews 11—the Hall of Faith as it pertains to biblical history.

We don’t see ourselves there. Instead, we focus our attention on the names and the corresponding “stories” that are attached to those names: Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses’ parents, Moses, the Israelites, Joshua, Rahab, Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, David, Samuel, the prophets, the martyrs. Indeed, a list of worthy journeys … all marked by faith.

But if we stay mired in their stories, if for some reason we think that their journeys hold the market on faith and that ours could never follow suit, then we’ve missed an important part of Hebrews 11. Before any mention of the well-knowns from our spiritual history, we are there … listed as part of the faithful entourage.

“By faith we understand that the universe was formed at God’s command so that what is seen was not made out of what was visible.” (Hebrews 11:3).

Did you catch it?

“By faith WE… .”

You and me, listed amongst the heroes of our ancestral faith. Why? Because we believe that our world was created by an unseen God, and that his saying so—his speaking it all into being—is more than enough to solidify our limited understanding into a rock solid faith that is worthy of a mention alongside the ancients of yesterday.

I’ve spent most of my forty-three years living by my middle name… Elaine. I’m good with that, at least in the temporal. But in the spiritual … in the way that my Father sees me on a daily basis? Well, I want to be known by my first name. I want my life to be rooted in a by Faith kind of understanding.

By faith …

Elaine lived, Elaine died, and Elaine rose again to see the fruition of her first name made sight and the fullness of her hope made certain.

It won’t be long in coming, friends. Maybe in this new year of life that I’ve been given. If not, then in a season to come. It matters not to me the day nor the hour. What matters to me is my confidence in its arrival. And by faith, I am believing God to be the sure and final outcome of my intentional and current trust.

I began my earthly life within the confines of a resurrection remembrance—an Easter Sunday morning forty-three years ago this day. I will begin my heavenly life with the same. With a resurrection of a new body in a new place where everyday lives like Easter.

By Faith, Elaine is going to get there. By faith, I pray you’ll get there too.

I love you precious friends. Thank you for sharing this pilgrimage with me. Take some time this weekend to find your name written within God’s Hall of Faith. If you know Jesus as your Savior, then you are there, verse three (write it down). By faith,believe it and receive with all the certainty of an Easter morning’s resurrection. I love you each one. As always,

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PS: Many thanks to my Tuesday night Bible study girls for remembering me! You women have been so faithful to study and to live your God. Keep to it! (note the inscription on the cake…aren’t they awesome?!)

Sweet Trust

Sweet Trust

Then Jesus told them, ‘You are going to have the light just a little while longer. Walk while you have the light, before darkness overtakes you. The man who walks in the dark does not know where he is going. Put your trust in the light while you have it, so that you may become sons of light.’ … ” (John 12:35-36).


I watched him walk to her. She couldn’t make it to him. A stroke claimed her ability to do so.

Two years ago she would have been able to make that journey down the aisle to receive the bread and wine. Today she sat in stillness as it was brought to her, and all I could do was find my tears. I’m not sure anyone else noticed the blessed exchange between her “less” and God’s “more,” but for me it was a privileged invitation to sacred participation.

I amply partook, not just of the elements but of the moment that birthed a true witness to the beginnings of an Easter week … as to what it means to pilgrim from a palm branch to an empty tomb.

Remembrance.

It’s a remembrance that has been a part of Ms. Margaret’s ninety plus years on this earth. I don’t imagine that she’s missed many communions in that time. Because she currently resides in a local nursing home, she is no longer a regular attendee of our church gatherings. Today was the exception. For whatever reason, today was a day that allowed her to come home to a familiar pew and to dozens of familiar faces.


It was good to see her; not just her physical presence, but her faith that continues even though her flesh has relegated her to a state of seeming anonymity. Wheelchairs and inaudible speech cannot confine the witness of a heart that has been claimed by the cross of Jesus Christ. Despite her physical limitations, her spiritual vibrancy remains, and I, for one, am better for the beholding this day.

As I lingered in the moment, the familiar hymn written by missionary Louisa Stead accompanied my contemplation:

Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus,
Just to take Him at His word;
Just to rest upon His promise;
Just to know “Thus saith the Lord.”

I’m so glad I learned to trust Thee,
Precious Jesus, Savior friend;
And I know that Thou are with me,
Wilt be with me to the end.

Jesus, Jesus how I trust Him!
How I’ve proved Him o’er and o’er!
Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus!
O for grace to trust Him more.[i]

Sweet trust. That’s what I witnessed this morning. It is a trust that has been birthed between a daughter and her Father throughout nine decades worth of living. A trust that has lingered despite ample heartaches and debilitating health issues that have begged a heart to the contrary. A trust that simply and profoundly says that God’s Word is enough.

That God’s Word is worthy. That God’s Word is willing. And that God’s Word is “… with me, Wilt be with me to the end.”

I don’t know when that “end” will come for Ms. Margaret. I wouldn’t presume to take her one moment sooner from this earth than what God has allowed. Her life still breathes with kingdom purpose. And her King? Well, He’s marked her days from beginning to end, and for now … for this day and, perhaps, for this upcoming week, she’ll be allowed another journey of remembrance to the cross, to the tomb, and to the glorious awakening of an Easter morning.

It is my privilege to walk it with her. It is my joy to walk it with you, ye saints of God, as we boldly approach the throne of grace with a sweet trust that walks in surrendered faith knowing the One who awaits us at the end of the road.

And while Jesus no longer hangs in submission upon a tree, remembering Him there is the worthy pause of our hearts this day … the worthy pause of hearts for always.

The body of Christ, broken for you. The blood of Christ, poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins.

Do it all … live it all, my friends, in remembrance of Him, and do it with a sweet trust that walks a lifetime with the complete confidence in an everlasting grace. This is our invitation to sacred participation; accordingly, may our feet be found on the road of remembrance this week. Thus, I pray…

Let nothing take my focus from your cross this week, Father. Let not the consumption of my “to do list” consume me to the point of forgetfulness. You are worthy of so much more from me. More of my time, more of my thoughts, more of my hands, and more of my heart. Forgive me for relegating your cross to an annual remembrance. May I never lose the wonder of its place in history and its hold over my heart. You have allowed me the daily privilege of lingering in its cleansing pour. Thank you for the blood that has amply paved the way home. Keep me to its path until I safely land at your feet in final resurrection. Amen.

[i] Robert J. Morgan, “Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus,” Then Sings My Soul (Thomas Nelson Publishers: Nashville, 2003), 210-211.

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Ruby Tuesdays: A Mighty Woman (part three)

Please join us over at Refreshmoments to read more Ruby Tuesdays’ posts. To read part one and two of my series, click here.

“She senses that her gain is good; Her lamp does not go out at night.” (Proverbs 31:18, NAS).
My lamp wants to.

Go out tonight.

But my heart refuses its dimming. Not because I don’t need it to; I need some rest. But rather because I have a stirring that forces my thoughts. A penned up feeling that has surfaced today; the first of its kind, at least as it pertains to this child. My second child. A boy who’s grown up too quickly and who, in two months time, will throw his cap into the air and declare his finish to his childhood.

I’ve been waiting for this feeling to surface all year, but for whatever reason, it waited until today to erupt. I was unprepared for its arrival and yet completely willing to entreat its sway over my mind and my emotion.

Butterflies.

Flutters of worry. Flutters of anxiety. Flutters of anticipation. Flutters of exultation. Flutters of “what’s next” and flutters about “how I’m going to walk this one through.” Flutters of all manner of feelings, rolled up into a few moments of pause.

It brought me to my knees and my tears accordingly. To my prayers and my hopes for how this thing … this future that remains to be seen … is going to shift my season, yet again. Two years ago, I walked this road with my first son. It was different then. Harder in many ways. Time has developed my trust for the process, especially because that time has been seasoned with good decisions and good provision that have grown us all in very good measure.

My gain has been very good. All those years of seeding the soil of my eldest son’s maturation have blossomed into a budding harvest of manhood. I imagine the same for my second son. I hope for it; I pray for it; I long for it to walk in similar and smooth transition.

It seems that it will, at least for today. Today, despite my flutters, the future seems to be narrowing—to be falling into sharper focus as to where my son will further his growing over the next four years. Four of the five colleges to which he’s applied have laid some ample offers at his feet. Good offers. Financial packages that we couldn’t have imagined for him on the front side of this process.

On the front side, we couldn’t see a way. With an older brother already in college and with us living within the budget of our single-family income, we couldn’t imagine how we would be able to afford him the education at the school of his choice. So I didn’t.

Imagine.

On the front side.

Instead, I simply left it in God’s hands.

Good hands. Hands that are completely capable and willing to hold the trust and faith of our hearts.

And now, on the backside of a strenuous and lengthy stretch, it seems that we will be able to afford them all. And the mighty woman in me, a woman longing to be found worthy of a ruby’s bestowing, is sensing a very good gain through the hands of a very good Father who understands the needs of his children and of his provision therein.

God has moved on behalf of our household, friends. And when I discerned it today, when I began to see the prayers of my long and deliberate trust beginning to unfold in our favor, all I could do was fall prey to my fluttering. From one emotion to the next until I found my knees and my subsequent thanks.

God gave me more than an answer today. He gave me the gift of faith … of seeing how my believing Him on the “front side” of an unknown can be walked in peace and assurance until the answer arrives.

Rarely have I done that. Rarely have I fully trusted Him with my prayers. Rarely have I believed that He was truly and faithfully going to work it all out. But this time—this season of trusting God with my son’s college outcome—was my rare exception. This time, I chose expectation over doubt. Faith over fear. Peace over panic. And tonight, from the backside, it seems to me to be a very good way to walk a journey.

In full assurance of a good gain because a good God stands at the helm.

Long ago and many seasons before this one, God lit his lamp within my heart. I’ve spent the better part of forty years tending to that wick. Some years have walked brightly. Some dim. Some pure. Some tainted. But all have walked with the possibility of a brilliantly lit faith. Today, my faith burned with a radiance that surpassed them all.

Today, faith grew, and tonight, God’s wick within me is flaming with a peace that has rarely been my portion. God has stoked my heart with a night’s burning that will remain, despite this body’s need for rest.

I can take that rest because my Father is faithful to tend to my all in my stead, on the front side of tomorrow … on the backside of today. My times are in his hands. So are yours. And that, my friends, is a good gain all the way around. As always,

~elaine

Through and Through

“Test everything. Hold on to the good. Avoid every kind of evil. May God himself, the God of peace, sanctify you through and through. May your whole spirit, soul, and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. The one who calls you is faithful and he will do it.” (1 Thessalonians 5:21-24).

It was waiting for me in my inbox this morning. An email from my friend who is battling for her physical health from a hospital room that’s been her home for over a month now. Her life has changed dramatically in that time. She went into surgery with high hopes of gaining some relief from a tumor that was growing on her upper spine. What she received, instead, was partial paralysis in addition to her continuing fight against cancer.

Her hopes have changed over the past month. Today she lingers with the prospect of a wheelchair and a return home very soon. I imagine it to be enough for her in this moment—to get home to her family and to bask in the warmth of some normal, if only for a season.

She’s journeying down a long and uncertain road right now. A “through and through” kind of work in her own heart and life that doesn’t seem fair. That hardly seems necessary. That rarely feels right and good and pure as it pertains to the life of a saint.

And while I would never want to “explain away her pain” as some part of her purification process … as if there is something in her that “needs” the lesson of a difficult suffering … I do know this, as it pertains to the life of a saint. To the lives of all of us who know Jesus and are walking ever closer to seeing Him face to face.

Our process of becoming like Jesus is a “through and through” process. A word in the Greek language (holotelous) meaning “All, or the whole, completely or entirely.”[i]

The opposite of holotelous is monos meaning “only, alone, without others.”[ii]

Thus, our sanctification is a collective work, not a partial or solitary experience. It is an entire work. A completed work that can only be accomplished through the faithful hands of a peaceful God who seeds our lives, as we go and all along, with the flames of holy fire with a holy end in mind. He is a God who is after far more in us and through us than we are willing to concede at the time of our salvation.

Surrendering our hearts to the way of the cross—to the road of a crucified life—is a costly decision. It means that we willingly submit our flesh to the purifying flames of a holier notion … a better becoming that would otherwise be left undone should we have chosen otherwise—to stay as we are rather than who we are meant to be.

When we say “yes” to Jesus and his cross, we say “yes” to our Father’s “through and through.” Rarely do we understand on the front side of our “yes” what that will look like in the seasons to come. A good “ignorance” I suppose. God grows us in our sanctification. To receive it all in a first moment with Jesus would be too much. Perhaps, would be too hard. Too difficult of a cloaking at the point when our tender hearts cross the line from flesh to faith.

A “through and through” kind of work is a gift from a gracious God who understands that the more we come to know him … that the more we grow in our understanding of just exactly how long and wide and high and deep his blood was shed … the more willing we become to surrender our flesh for the same. When we finally come to the place of a deeper knowing of Christ’s love for us, then we are willing, like the Apostle Paul, to surrender it all—our flesh and our now—for the sake of our completed end.

It’s not easy. It’s not always fun. It’s never predictable, and rarely does it ever make sense. But in God’s hands and through God’s love, of this one truth we can be sure.

It’s always good. It’s always right, and his work in us is always for us. For Him. And for a kingdom’s sake that exceeds our momentary grasp at understanding.

There is coming a day, when our “through and through” will make it through to the other side. God will push our flesh through an invisible barrier, and in a moment’s pause, our faith will be made sight. We will have the glorious truth of our difficult now laid out before us in a way that makes perfect sense and that will leave us panting a breathless “hallelujah” for the process that we walked to get there.

Hold onto the good, weary pilgrims. Hold onto the promise. His name is Jesus, and he is faithful to complete in us that which he began in us over 2000 years ago—perfection. A “faultless to stand before the throne” kind of finish because of his willingness to bow before the throne on a cross.

Oh, what wondrous love is this? It’s a love that calls us to a “through and through” kind of faith. May we all have the good sense and the willing “yes” in our hearts to take up our cross and follow faith through to the threshold of our finish that will birth the truth of our beginning again.

A beginning that lands us at home, at rest, and face to face with the One who created us with such sacred splendor in mind. Even so, come quickly, Lord Jesus. As always,

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Copyright © March 2009 – Elaine Olsen

[i] Spiros Zodhiates, The Complete Word Study Dictionary NT (AMG Publishers: Chattanooga, 1992), 1039.
[ii] Spiros Zodhiates, The Complete Word Study Dictionary NT (AMG Publishers: Chattanooga, 1992), 996.

 

A Better Thinking

“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 minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” (Philippians 4:6-8).

As Christians, there are some things that we should think about—things worthy of our time and attention and ponderous attention. There are also some things not worthy of our heart’s pause—things that walk contrary to a life that is controlled by and rooted in the Spirit of the living God.

Contrary things walk contrary and breed inconsistencies into the life of a believer. We are forced to grapple with the issue everyday as we seek to live out the tenets of our faith. If not carefully guarded, our hearts become the fertile soil for some seeds that were never meant for the rooting therein.

I know.

Today I host some “bitter seeds,” and I’m confident that bitter doesn’t fall within the “true” and “noble” of Paul’s mindful checklist. Thus, I’m praying the truth of scripture over my wandering thoughts, desiring for God’s peace to be my portion. Always, God’s peace … for the journey.

That’s the heart behind this blog. To give readers an occasion to “pause from the ordinary in order to partake of the Extraordinary.” Peace isn’t an emotion or a temporary state of being. Peace is a person. His name is Jesus, and he intends to be our constant … our Way of doing life, most days in spite of the ebb and flow that works itself into our 24/7.

The “anxious and everything” will always find us. Yours may not look like mine today, but I imagine it to be present. If not in full blown status, then simmering somewhere just beneath the surface of your emotional stable. All of us are but one crisis away from having it voice its loud and its proud into our calm.

Your crisis may not be a huge thing; to the rest of the world, it may seem small and insignificant, but the rest of the world doesn’t live in your world. Your world hosts some tailor made “anxious and everything,” specifically designed to trip your triggers and to expedite your fall accordingly. Instead of recognizing those triggers and bypassing the danger, we allow them their bruising over our lives.

Instead of offering up our prayers and petitions to the only One who can bring peace to our “anxious and everything,” we offer up our own variety of solutions to soothe the ache.

Instead of truth … lies.
Instead of noble … improper.
Instead of right … wrong.
Instead of pure … profane.
Instead of lovely … hateful.
Instead of admirable … defaming.
Instead of excellent … evil.
Instead of praiseworthy … punishment.

Thus, the contrast to Philippians 4:8 …

Whatever is a lie, whatever is improper, whatever is wrong, whatever is profane, whatever is hateful, whatever is defaming, if anything is evil and rife with punishment, think upon such things.[i]

No wonder our worry; no wonder our anxious. No wonder our need to bring everything out into the light and to the foot of the cross for the soothing comfort of a better Peace. Whenever we default to our own solutions of managing the crises that come our way, we are left to the mercy of a depraved mind tilted in the wrong direction and mired in the murky waters of corruptible thinking.

God’s Peace isn’t anchored in that soil. He walked that soil for a season and on our behalf so that our feet wouldn’t have to make the journey. Still and yet, there are days when we choose to marshal our steps along that path, and instead of finding God’s promised Peace, we fuel our “anxious and everything” until it becomes the unmanageable cloaking of our hearts.

It’s a heavy mantle to carry, friends, and a weighing down that I don’t need today; thus, I’m going to take God at his Word, and bring my prayers and petitions to the foot of the cross and leave them there…

*knowing that I’ve been heard.
*believing that my words are kept and held and tended to by the extravagant grace of heaven.
*receiving the Peace that I’ve been promised.

Knowing. Believing. Receiving.

The posture of an uncluttered heart. The hope of this expectant pilgrim. Thus, I pray…

Unclutter me, Father, as I bring it all to your hands and to your understanding this day. I do not want to linger in my bitter and in my confusion. Instead, I give them to you, and ask you to work your will into my way of thinking. Forgive me for trying to manage this one out on my own; instead, teach me to trust you with my “anxious and everything” all the days of my life. You’ve given me your Peace; let my lingering thoughts rest in such a holding today. Amen.

[i] Antithesis based on word study search from The Complete Word Study Dictionary New Testament (Chattannoga: AMG Publishers, 1992).
Copyright © March 2009 – Elaine Olsen

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