The Gift of Hope

Christmas is coming! Just like the stockings I will be hanging and stuffing soon, the days ahead will be full of people, music, family, long enjoyed recipes and of course beautifully lit Christmas trees. Amidst all of the wrapping, parties, concerts, carols, card writing and family visits, this time seems to me to be one that is saturated with hope. Hope, in the form of a God designed plan, the sound of prophets’ pleas, in steadfast hearts of many. Hope in the action of God becoming man.

Jesus came in the most unlikely of circumstances; not what the random observer expected for the 

Creator God and Holy King. He came, fully God and fully man, in a method that brings hope still today - as a baby. He who designed our legs to walk and knows every language, chose to come as a baby who learned to walk and speak by toddling and jabbering. Tiny, dependent, and utterly precious; he chose to defy our expectations of the extraordinary.

Hanging ornaments and singing songs, the memories of family come flooding back. Ornaments remind me of my own family, a perfect time for considering again God’s use of the ordinary to create the extraordinary. The cry did not well up from the streets that the King of Kings had come. It was the arrival of a baby and the gift of life to give us the most extraordinary thing of all, giving us grace.

Luke’s excitement over the details of these events were captured in his letter to Theophilus. He shared the story of the gift of hope with us. 

“Inasmuch as many have taken in hand to set in order a narrative of those things which have been fulfilled among us, just as those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word delivered them to us, it seemed good to me also, having had perfect understanding of all things from the very first, to write to you an orderly account, most excellent Theophilus, that you may know the certainty of those things in which you were instructed.”

Luke 1:1-4

In Need of Living Water

The weather has been very hot lately; and as someone whose personal preference is cool weather, I find cold water important to have around. Sometimes though, even as I keep drinking water, the heat takes its toll. Chilling in the heat, I know my body needs to rehydrate and cool off. It can be easy to take clean water for granted where the turn of a handle gives that in a reliable fashion of varying temperatures. Yet, water is a necessary liquid for our bodies to function. Found in cells, tissues and organs, water allows our body to function properly in varying temperatures and is a large portion of our physical makeup.

Visiting the Des Moines Botanical Garden, I walked to the waterfall at one end of the outdoor gardens. The sun was hot, my hands were hot, there wasn’t a sign saying don’t touch; so my hand went into the waterfall. I was splashed with droplets and felt the cooling impact where the moisture landed. Wonderfully refreshing, it took a measure of self-control to not just remove my tennis shoes and opt for a stroll through the pool in front of the falls.

Water to nourish, to cool, to bring life to arid places; indeed a liquid necessary for life. Then, there is this living water referred to in John 4. Living water, a self-replenishing gift, is offered. The liquid that is necessary for our physical life to continue is found in the well. The living water found in Christ is offered freely, as a gift, drawn from his well spring that never runs dry. It is not the refreshment from the heat of the day that it offers; but healing from the burns of the world.

 Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.” John 4:10

Rain on a Metal Roof and Other Sounds

The rain has been pouring this evening. Plunk, plunk, plunk… as the rain lands on the metal tub sitting on the porch. It reminds me of the soothing sound of rain on a metal roof. 

Sitting on a front porch and listening to a summer rain plunk on a metal roof. The porch swing chains creak as they carry it back and forth slowly, one foot lightly keeping the momentum going as the other leg is tucked underneath me. I can practically smell the purple in the vetch on the hill. Frogs near the pond jump from logs, land with a splash and add their own songs to the rain. I feel the bulk of my book; there is the weight of the actual bound print and the heft of the words resting in my hands. The words pull me in slowly, sinking me into the moment and bringing the lyrics of my book alive. The sounds of the rain bring backs lovely memories and I think of how our senses can be such a gift. 

The Impact

   I’ve been blogging about the concept behind the community that was impacted by their involvement in eternal history. A baby is born and it ripples the history of the world for a family, generations even perhaps. But, after so many many years, the current significance wanes and it becomes historical impact instead. Then, there was a child born that changed the precedent and made such an impact that it forever changed history and our current lives.

   You are most likely familiar with parts of the Christmas story. Maybe it’s the touch of the mother Mary holding her new baby. Or perhaps it’s through the beautiful and ear catching tunes of the season. But, there are many details that we are not privy too. And thinking about the impact of that life, the birth of God’s son, I cannot imagine the community being impacted in anything less than dramatic and impactful. We are not told the story of the how the shepherds retold the story of that night filled with angels for years to come. We do not know what the actual sight of the birth was like, who heard the cry of a woman giving birth, who heard the sound of a brand new baby. Who held him and watched him blow bubbles as all babies do or roll over for the first time? Did Joseph pace or sit near Mary, encouraging her. Perhaps he was squeamish and removed himself from the birthing area. Were there others there to help her? Zechariah was part of Mary’s life and no longer silent after his son John was born. How did he share that story, with whom?
   In my own community, there are many who are preparing to celebrate. My own hands are feeling the tired strain of writing Christmas cards, knowing that my a’s and e’s and starting to blur together in cursive writing. Trees are decorated, presents are purchased (though not yet wrapped), there are parties and programs, choir concerts, friends and dinners. Such a hubbub of the next few weeks. Obviously, that birth still impacts us in a tangible way now. But, what about our hearts, does it impact our hearts? The birth was a miraculous thing. It entailed the sovereign Son of God relinquishing his total control, total power to a mother and father who did not have a manual in how to raise him. There was no magic wand that could be simply waved over his head and wah-lah – it’s all done and good. It took work and care. Today, the relationship with Jesus still takes work and care. And the effort that is plied into this will be reimbursed many times over, in an eternally impactful way.

taerT ro kcirT

   What a great night for taerT ro kcirT. Never heard of it? Well, we were just having too much fun away from the house on the night when all of the cute little beggars come out for candy. So, when we returned, there was no candy to give. The general discussion as the house was being approached was, “make a dash for the door”, “get everything you need now,” “don’t make eye contact and Hurry!” It was a mad dash with giggles all the way. There were a few persistent door ringers and knockers even though the lights were turned out. So, the concept was born, a backwards trick or treat – rather a taerT ro kcirT! The trick-or-treater approaches the door. But, when they are about to knock, we knock from inside and start yelling trick or treat. Then, we open the door and they give us candy. Sounds like a great plan to me! Candy, candy coming to me, I don’t even have to put on my shoes to go out! Okay, so obviously the kids aren’t going to go for it. But, you can’t blame a girl for trying.
   I started wondering what else we do that for in life, where do we have it backwards. What else do we approach, only to have someone inside the door take instead of give? Perhaps you have been in a taerT ro kcirT relationship with someone, be it a professional or friend or family relationship. It is essential to have not only good boundaries, but to also be ready to give instead of take. You see, we can be on both sides of the door any given day. We can be the one who is intending to receive the gift, and end up being the giver instead. Boundaries are essential to know your role, otherwise we can become confused and just start approaching random houses with our candy – having it taken away from us, rather than being shared with. No matter where relationships occur, they are quite difficult. They are messy, confusing, and at times just frustrating. They can also be rewarding, gratifying, and encouraging. But, think of successful relationships that you have witnessed. The roles are understood, and both give and both receive.
   I don’t think we will be seeing a taerT ro kcirT trend starting anytime soon, at least with candy. But, I hope that we do become more aware of how we may indeed be stealing someone else’s candy from the wrong side of the door.

New Day

   It’s all in the perspective, it’s a new day or it’s another day. The words are different, and the meanings are different as well. So, which is it? Technically, they are both correct. However, I like to think that a new day is really the more correct of the two. Why?

   Another day is just one more, an addition to a string of previous days. It is an attitude that assumes that each day will continue on pretty much as the previous one. There is a hint that there isn’t change coming and that instead it is a string of monotony. How boring! A new day on the other hand implies that there is something different, a gift. It is not an assumed thing that will be received, but a gift.
   I like to think that this day is a new day. It is different than the day before. Yes, some things will probably be similar. My schedule may be fairly set. However, there is something new about each day. A sunrise is unique, watching the water make waves on the Mississippi River, seeing the kids make their way to school. Trees grow, green up, turn beautiful colors for fall, and then shed their leaves for the winter. Flowers come to life, bloom, and then turn to seed. I just saw my first wooly worm of the fall, a new thing on a new day. It’s the small things that often set these days apart. But, each day is a gift. It is something unique, something precious.
   Our decisions need to reflect this mentality and abandon the another day thought. What would our world look like if we did so? Too big of a question? Okay, how about our homes. What would our homes look like if we reflected this mentality? Would we be quicker to pull out the camera and capture the memories, quicker to laugh over the spilled milk and juice rather than fuss? Would we plan days with great expectation and excitement, knowing that it would be different than the day before? Would we treat each other as if our new day with them was a gift?
   Have a great new day!

On the Other Side of the Table

   I had an opportunity to help pass out food to around two hundred families last weekend. With around 10,000 pounds of food shared, approximately 800 people were helped. It was a beautiful experience. The mobile food pantry works by a truck loaded with food coming. The food contained inside on palates is a combination of canned goods, fresh produce, and items which are considered extras by many grocery budgets - like large bags of walnuts and juices. There were large ripe tomatoes that were bagged up for easy delivery. A family even had picked a truckload full of sweet corn the night before and it was also bagged and added to the stock of food.

   People started lining up about two hours before the registration could even begin. Workers came approximately an hour early to help unload the truck and set up the tables. Registration began and people passed through. Soon, grocery carts were filled with food and people were loading their vehicles full of produce.
   One of the discussions I heard going on was being on the other side of the table. It is a joy being on the giving side. It is a beautiful thing to hand out milk, tomatoes, corn, cereal, soup, and a variety of other foods. It is not always so easy to be on the receiving side of the table. That doesn’t mean that there isn’t gratitude there, but there may also be wounded pride, embarrassment, and feelings of failure. It is not always easy to be on the receiving side of gifts. Especially gifts you cannot pay back.

   And yet, isn’t that what grace is?

Shadows and Freedom

Have you ever noticed how two thoughts which seem unrelated can wind themselves together, twining this way and that to form a vine? I had two thoughts and over the last few days, they have sort of twined together.

I live in a small town; it’s a nice little town on the river and home to several large companies. It’s a typical small town with typical small town structures. There are restaurants and a fire department, homes and schools. I enjoy during the school year watching children walk to the elementary school as I drive to work. In the summer, it is replaced with afternoon skateboard and bicycles. An ice cream truck can be heard often during this hot time. I know my neighbors names and they are lovely neighbors. It’s not a perfect town; there are problems inherent in every area. There is crime and poverty which I wish wasn’t there. It is the longest I have ever lived anywhere, over 12 years! It is the longest by far (by over 8 years). So, I have lived here long enough to know that if I go straight at that one road and turn at another, that I will pass a patch of beautiful black-eyed-susans. And, it is an odd reassurance to know that my pharmacist, who knows my name, can also quote Shakespeare. I know that there are many who feel stifled here, they look around and see the limits. One such asked me not to long ago why I didn’t just take off and declare “freedom”. But, I’m not sure that that is what freedom looks like to me.
The other was just a moment, just a few seconds. On my way home from work, I needed to stop and run an errand. I drove up the street and the city jail was directly in front of me. I saw a shadow of a large bird move across the small high panes of glass in the jail. I wondered in that ephemeral moment if that was a sad reminder to the men and women in the jail. If that shadow passed through the window, the shadow of a bird epitomizing freedom, passed through the window, would it be something that rips their heart a bit?
The freedom of a bird, the freedom of choices, freedom to be and do and live and love – what is freedom? Is freedom the bird that flies from spot to spot? The sparrow which alights outside my window and splashes in the water with great abandon has a type of freedom. When my dog gets up she has a day full of naps and playtime and running, a different kind of freedom. I do have freedom. I have freedom to make a go of my job or not, to make a friend or not, to be pleasant or have an attitude, to work hard or hardly work. I also have a freedom to be what I was meant to be. Not the meant to be of romantic Victorian novels and the fates. But, meant to be as in the gifts and tasks and plans God has for me that are just for me, and those for you that are just for you. When I spurn those gifts, I feel more like the prisoner watching the bird out the window. Instead, I want to be more like the sparrow, splashing about with joy and abandon in the water. Thus, the two thoughts twine together and form something a bit more coherent, a bit stronger, as I define freedom for me.

Super Hero

I will readily admit being fan of super hero movies, especially the classic batman with the cartoon words like POW and BAM that flash across the screen. But, even the more recent movies like The Shadow and the Phantom are something I enjoy. There is something so enjoyable about the idea of someone who is gifted with a special ability and then goes about intense training to learn to fully use the skills for the betterment of society.
Two little boys were playing in the nursery at church last Sunday. Amidst play dough and sand box toys, I overheard a conversation. These two little boys were discussing how they were going to be super heroes when they grew up. It would have been the epitome of un-cool to coo over them at that moment and declare them both “the cutest little super hero boys,” so I restrained myself. But, I loved the conversation none the less.
I loved how these two fair haired boys were discussing this with calm and candid confidence. Not yet old enough to have had their dreams of super hero professions dashed by reality and grown up knowing in that those things do not really exist. Instead, I hope those boys do become super heroes. I hope that they realize that they have been gifted with special gifts, unique to them and their purposes set upon them and in them by God. Most likely, these gifts will not come with special suits and masks, thought at that moment it would inspire another burst of really cute-isms that the boys would probably declare is gross.
The thing is, is that it reminded me that we tend to declare some gifts or skills more special than another, but each are important! We should all aspire to be a super hero. I know I want to (especially if there is a cool car and cape that comes with the job)!

The Greener Grass

The Greener Grass

Have you ever heard that expression that the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence?  This looks pretty good, but over there in that yard they have had a lawn service and wow is it lush and so green.  I could just walk around in that barefoot for hours and it would feel so good…

I think that there was a mom once upon a time that dreams of greener grass for her songs.  “Then the mother of Zebedee’s sons came to Jesus with her sons, and kneeling down, asked a favor of him,” (Matthew 20:20).    Here was a mom who had an idea of greener grass.  And, really – who could blame her?  She has caught the idea of Jesus as the son of God and wanted something great for her sons. 

“‘What is it you want?’ he asked.  She said, ‘Grant that one of these two sons of mine may sit at your right and the other at your left in your kingdom.’”  This is a mom who wants greener grass for her sons and perhaps for herself. 

Jesus points back the spotlight onto her own grass.  “‘You don’t know what you are asking,’ Jesus said to them.  ‘Can you drink the cup I am going to drink?’  The grass, it’s not so green right here.  In fact, it’s full of moles, thorns, and weeds.  Don’t walk barefoot because your feet are going to get cut!  But, that grass still looks really good and green, so the answer comes. “‘We can.’”

What cup is that?  In this case, the cup is the acts in the coming days, the terror and horror of each moment.  Instead, the reply came, “‘You will indeed drink from my cup, but to sit at my right or let is not for me to grant.  These places belong to those for whom they have been prepared by my Father.’”  Sorry, that grass isn’t for me to share.  I am respecting the authority of the one who owns the grass. 

The grass, the perception of something better, it’s not such a bad thing.  Yet, in this case there was a loss of focus in yearning for the green, the better.  Sometimes, you have to take stock of your grass realistically and learn first to work and remove the weeds through hard work first. 

I think we all do that sometimes.  And not necessarily for things, but sometimes for situations.  Wow, I would love to have that family, home, relationship, child, job, opportunity, skill, education, dream, ability, etc…  I wish I could have that kind of patience, faith, hope, trust, love…  I can’t say that I have ever yearned for the right or left hand of God in his kingdom.  But, there are other things I have wished, pined, ached for.  Yet, the cup, the path, that God has prepared for me is a special one, a unique one.  I need to trust that the grass is just the right patch of grass for me right now.  Dig in, weed, and make it as best as I can.

You Get What You Give

I saw a church sign the other day stating in clear white acrylic letters, “You Get What You Give.”  There is some merit to that.  There are quite a few things in life that you get out what you put into them.  Goal completion, mentoring programs, education, friendships, exercise programs; these can all be fairly good examples of the give get exchange.

Yet, when I saw that I sign, I was reminded of what I “Got” and not only didn’t but couldn’t “Give” for.  Coming as a baby, growing up, being praised, being persecuted, tortured and killed – Jesus died for me.  He died for you.  I didn’t give anything for that.  There is nothing I can give for that.  Then, he rose from the grave!  There is certainly nothing I could give for that. 

There are times when I do not get what I give – Thank God!

Accepting the Gift

Has anyone ever given you a great gift?  It doesn’t have to be some thing; it could be a gift of time, care, sacrifice, or an act of service.  The reaction that most of us have is that we have to do something to give back or we just can’t accept that gift.  Sometimes though, we can receive gifts that are so overwhelmingly generous that we just don’t feel comfortable accepting them. 

Thank you – but it’s just too much. 

In your head, you are thinking – there is just no way I could ever repay them.

The story that we are more familiar with starts with Mary and now, Luke introduces us to her.  Many talk about Mary being a young girl, probably in her teenage years.  Mary was pledged to Joseph, a local carpenter.  Pledged, she was engaged or promised to Joseph, to be his wife.  And with that also came an expectation that Mary was a virgin, coming into her marriage with this precious gift of herself saved for her husband. 

Here is Mary, going about her daily life; chores, wedding plans, gathering, cleaning, cooking, visits with friends, and then – she has a surprise visit!  An angel visited her, saying "Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you," (Luke 1:28).  Ummmm, what to think now?  What should she say? Do? What does that mean?  The Lord, the most Holy God, sent the teenager Mary an angel messenger with a very specific message.  I can just imagine how Mary’s head was spinning – did it go completely blank or did all sorts of thoughts and questions come rushing in?  Did her knees tremble, her hands shake, or was she calm?  In fact, Luke goes on to tell us that Mary “was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be,” (Luke 1:29). 

Mary is about to receive a gift, a gift that is just too much.  Additionally, Mary is about to make a choice, a lifelong changing choice.  The angel realized that shocked look and quickly spoke up with words of comfort, telling Mary to not be afraid.  Instead, he reassures her by telling her she has “found favor with God.”  Then, the angel goes on to deliver the gift.  Mary – you are going to have a baby!  You are going to have a baby boy named 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 1:32).  I wonder if that angel had to pick Mary up off the floor. 

The gift has been given, Mary you are receiving this incredible honor.  Way bigger than a new car, we are talking about impacting the entire world’s history and future.  It is a pivotal moment in time.  Mary could have balked, refused, stomped and railed at God. 

How could you do this to me?  Do you know what people will say?  And do you mind telling me exactly how I’m going to have a baby?  I’m not married!   What will Joseph say?  What if he doesn’t want me now?  Will people stone me?

You see, Mary had some real concerns.  Becoming pregnant outside of marriage was a stoning offence, a death penalty in gruesome and painful way.  Words could also carry death, words in rumors and gossip, whispers that cut and hurt. 

Picking herself up, Mary asks how this can happen – remember, not married and a virgin. 

The angel gives an answer.  "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God.  Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be barren is in her sixth month. For nothing is impossible with God," (Luke 1: 35-37). 

Again, Mary receives words of encouragement.  The angel gives her an answer which reflects the sovereign power of God, the Creator of the world who spoke everything into existence – now is sharing the very life of His Son, the Son of God with this girl. 

Mary must make a choice, and she makes it so gracefully.  Showing us that the Lord’s choice of who to give this gift too was perfect.  Mary answered that she is the Lord’s servant, the handmaiden.  With this, she accepts the gift. 

The angel leaves.

What a beautiful graceful gift giving.  How often do we turn down gifts God would like to give us?  It’s really hard to be on the receiving end, it’s humbling.  When we do this, are we turning away someone else’s blessing?  How can you help bless someone today?  How can you accept God’s blessing gracefully today?

A Gift

My grandfather has been ill most of my life, struggling with various health problems. Living away, there have been many times where I’ve missed seeing and participating in the good days, the good months, the good years. But, on a recent trip home, I and my family were given a gift.

Sitting in a welcoming church, the pew I sit in has held many over the years. These pews were the ones my parents grew up in, though they are padded now. I know the smell, the sound of feet on the floor, the shoe and wood meeting. The pulpit has a familiar look to it. My grandfather preached here, loving the people that were part of his flock. He prayed for them, worked with them, grew them. But, for years he has been primarily home bound.

Coming in for the trip, I was pleased to see my family, my grandparents. We spent time with them at their home and then at a family brunch. I didn’t think that we would see them again that next day, after all that much activity would most likely be too tiring.

But, here I was singing, the hymnal open in front of me, watching the singers in front of me. One of these was my Aunt Tess, who I saw burst into tears. What caused that? What was going on? Following her gaze, I found myself turning around and watching my grandparents walk into the church. I could feel the tears hit the back of my own eyes at that point. What a gift it was to be able to have them there, to see them again in that place. I enjoyed singing with my family, but I really was given a gift to be able to sing with my family to both sets of my grandparents.