Bright Day

My mind, along with my heart, wouldn't be still long enough for slumber to come easily last night. The dark night consumed me. I attempted to pray, to make sense of it all. I must have dozed off partway through, but I am almost sure that even my dreams were full of pleadings. I needed Him to be found.

I woke up a few minutes before the alarm to chilly toes and a kitten that was attempting to attack them. And there was calm. No, it was more than calm, there was peace. I felt at peace. This was one of those instances that I knew God had granted me His peace. This was a kind of peace that didn't make sense. This was a peace that passed all rational understanding. And I didn't have to understand it, just accept it.

At that realization came such joy. I felt as if I could not contain it all.

I was reminded of Jesus' words from Luke 18: “Let these children alone. Don’t get between them and me. These children are the kingdom’s pride and joy. Mark this: Unless you accept God’s kingdom in the simplicity of a child, you’ll never get in.” {The Message}

Childlike faith. Not letting thing get between us. Simple. Not convoluted. Not complicating the gift of grace.

Love. Always love. Love for God {with all that is within me}. And love for all humankind.

As I was standing in my driveway at dusk, I marveled at the sky. It was filled with such glorious colors. Light shone triumphantly, almost rebelliously against the dusk. And isn't that the reminder that is so easily forgotten? The Light is come. Darkness doesn't prevail.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still and I imagined the rolling clouds in all of their splendor to be what the shore of heaven might look like. And in that same moment, I knew that no matter what, it was going to be alright.

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair. 

~After the Storm, Mumford & Sons 

Dark Night

I am in what could be described as a "dark night of the soul" so to speak. I guess it has been brewing, these questions in my heart. They aren't questions of God's Sovereignty; they're not questions of Salvation. Or grace. Rather, they are doubts about my adherence to a particular way, a specific denomination. And the fact that each one is so very certain of its own absolute truth {but even within most denominations there are enough variances to cause factions of said groups}. Yet, I am not. Herein lies my struggle.

Although, like I said, this has been brewing for some time, it all came to a head yesterday. I am reading through a book on Biblical womanhood by Rachel Held Evans. In the book were points of view from different religions and different religious movements. In a particular chapter, Martin Luther was quoted several times. Being as I am attending a Lutheran church at the moment, I was sort of caught off guard by the misogynistic tone of the following:

"The word and works of God is quite clear, that women were made either to be wives or prostitutes."

"Even though they grow weary and wear themselves out with child-bearing, it does not matter; let them go on bearing children till they die, that is what they are there for."

"God created Adam master and lord of living creatures, but Eve spoilt all, when she persuaded him to set himself above God's will. 'Tis you women, with your tricks and artifices, that lead men into error."

Super. 

And, for me, it all began to unravel. I felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. I began searching and  after a few hours I was very saddened by what I had read. I am not a historian nor a theologian, but the Luther I was encountering wasn't the "Father of the Reformation" that had been portrayed, but someone who, to me,  was a coward. Someone who sought refuge from nobles and strategically promoted the spread of Protestantism (the protester damning the protesting peasants for progress). This Luther was a loose cannon. This Luther, later in his life, wrote anti-Semitic rhetoric and hunted witches. 

For me, that is the point, I suppose, to all of this: Luther was just a man; Calvin was just a man; John Knox was just a man. All of the reformers were just men. Jesus was God-man.  

I need to seek Him. I need to follow Him. And it is hard to sort through all the dogma. It is hard when everyone is "right." Honestly, it all has left me feeling discouraged and somewhat duped. Why, after all, do we give such credence to adhere to the words of men?

But, in it all, I have Jesus. I have His words. I have the Holy Spirit. I have this promise: "Then you will call upon Me, and you will come and pray to Me, and I will hear and heed you. Then you will seek Me, inquire for, and require Me [as a vital necessity] and find Me when you search for Me with all your heart. I will be found by you, says the Lord…" Jeremiah 29:12-14

{and that is where I am. It's not pretty, this wrestling through it, but I confident in a God who desires to lead His children, at all times, in all things.}

Tonight I don't know what I am, except His. That is enough. And maybe, just maybe, that is all I ever have to be. 

My 100th Post {in which I write about Stan the Window Man}

It was dark and chilly when I left work this evening. I wanted to go home but I knew that I had to get gas and make a quick trip to the grocery store. This town that I grew up in continues to swell and so I had to fight my way through the traffic that has become all too familiar.

Walking out of the store, I saw him. Stan. Stan the Window Man as he calls himself. I am surprised to see him. It has been at least a few years. He was a prominent fixture around Riverside establishments. I would see him at various places such as Blockbuster, Ralph's, the Post Office, always with his bottle of generic blue cleaning solution and crumpled newspapers. Tonight, he sits on a folding chair, and the years, the years haven't been kind.

I was truly happy to see him. I greet him by name and ask him how he has been, where he has been. I rarely carry cash, but I pull out a dollar from the bottom of my purse. He thanks me and tells me that he knows a woman who lets him stay at her house and do his laundry for $30 a day. I wish him well. I bless him in God's name.

As I put my groceries in the trunk, I think if there was anything I could give to him. I looked over at the store entrance and can hear him asking for change. I hear his robust laugh as he interacts with the people that will either ignore him, or toss some change at him. Then, I see security drive by and threaten to have him removed. It hits me. A jacket. Go home and get him a jacket.

I drive quickly. I find the warm one in the closet. The one with a hood. I pray that he is still there in the ten minute round trip. I park and walk swiftly to where he sat. "Stan, I brought you something," I said with a little too much enthusiasm for a used coat. I held it up and helped him put it on, like I would for my boys when they were little. I murmured that I hope it fit. Stan was thrilled and expressed it in his booming voice. "Oooooh, wheeeee! I needed a jacket. Thank you, baby! Thank you! This is so great" Stan zipped it up. It couldn't have fit more perfectly.

Stan opened his arms wide and with such gratitude as he said, "Give me a hug." And in that moment, I felt like I was with Jesus, in His embrace. In that moment, I felt such joy.

I told Stan that I hoped I'd see him again. I turned reluctantly to return to my car. I honestly didn't want to leave. Just before I got into my car, I hear him exclaim, "God is good!" Tears welled in my eyes. As I drove down the aisle, Stan saw me. He held his hand high to acknowledge me. His broken benediction and I swore I could hear the words, "Well done, good and faithful servant."

And wasn't I just asking to be set apart? Is this what working it all out, this salvation, looks like? This story I share isn't to make me seem like some kind of sanctimonious saint. There is nothing innately good in me. This story is shared to give a little bit of encouragement. And a story to say that God is so good.

I will leave you all with a saying from Mother Teresa: "We can do no great things, only small things with great love." xo.

One Word

My dear friend had shared a link on Facebook from One Word 365. The article encouraged readers to select one word for the year. This one little word would become a focus of sorts. 

I thought about it and decided to pray about what word to choose. My word for 2013 is....sanctify.

sanc·ti·fy

 transitive verb \-ˌfī\

sanc·ti·fied   sanc·ti·fy·ing

Definition of SANCTIFY

1: to set apart to a sacred purpose or to religious use: consecrate

2: to free from sin: purify

I love that Jesus prays for his disciples to be sanctified {Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth. John 17:17}. 

Oswald Chambers penned: "When I pray, “Lord, show me what sanctification means for me,” He will show me. It means being made one with Jesus. Sanctification is not something Jesus puts in me— it is Himself in me." {But by His doing you are in Christ Jesus, who became to us wisdom from God, and righteousness and sanctification, and redemption, so that, just as it is written, “Let him who boasts, boast in the Lord.” 1 Corinthians 1: 30-31}

Then, later in 1 Corinthians, this: For the unbelieving husband is set apart (separated, withdrawn from heathen contamination, and affiliated with the Christian people) by union with his consecrated (set-apart) wife... Otherwise your children would be unclean (unblessed heathen, outside the Christian covenant), but as it is they are prepared for God [pure and clean].

He always reveals himself to those who seek him. And in this revelation, in this time of moving from the cradle to the cross, I need the epiphany anew in my heart. There is an urgency mingled with expectancy. 

It's not about me. I fail every time. It's about Christ in me. My hope of glory. It's about His willingness to enter this blemished earth, this broken vessel. This is where he dwells amidst the sinners and saints; a Savior to save. 

To live fully in Him, by the truth of His word, and for His specific purpose: this is my prayer. And, moreover, the prayer for my husband and children to be sanctified and come to their own personal knowledge of saving grace. 

Sanctify. One word. The cry of my heart. 

Who Am I?

Happy New Year! I am not one to get overly excited about this holiday. I do, however, use it as an opportunity to reflect upon the previous year. I am thankful that we do not need to wait for a specified amount of time to have something declared new.

There are certain threads that continually weave throughout my life and therefore my blog {grace, forgiveness, community, brokenness, faith, hope, love...}. I am not the best writer, but I always write from the heart. I hope to write more this year if for no other reason than it helps me to ponder life deeply and sit with God, communing with Him.

And nothing can ever be new for us without grace. Life. Breath. Every heartbeat.

I went to see Les Miserables in the theater. I have always loved the story. This movie version really had a profound impact on me though. The story of the power of redemption is overwhelming. And grace.

{A little back story for those who are unfamiliar...}

Jean Valjean was imprisoned for stealing bread. After 19 winters, he was paroled, but labeled an ex-con. He came upon shelter from a kind priest. Valjean stole silver from him and was caught. When the guards brought him back to the priest, he essentially vouched for Valjean, saying he even forgot the valuable candlesticks. Valjean is overcome by the grace shown to him {from his soliloquy: "Yet why did I allow that man to touch my soul and teach me love? He treated me like any other. He gave me his trust He called me brother. My life he claims for God above. Can such things be?"} 

And it can feel too lofty, too amazing, this grace for the sinner. But, it all comes back to the love that came down at Christmastime. A love that was born to save. A love that is steadfast. A love that is eternal. A love that enters into the midst of our mess. A love that goes before us. 

Valjean accepted this gift of grace, even as he grappled with who he was in light of it. 

And it can be so easily forgotten: who we really are in light of such grace. 

So, who am I? 

All that really matters is this answer: I am His. I am loved. Completely. Irrevocably. 

And you are, too.