Blur

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I’ve been spending time with Hudson this week.  My grandson will be one year old in a few days.  He is the joy of my heart and I am soaking up baby love.  My plan was to post lots and lots of pictures of Hud Bud and report on all his antics.  I came equipped with a computer and a new iphone.  Even so, it didn’t happen and there are three reasons why.

First, I couldn’t take my eyes off the child long enough to grab the camera and shoot.  Every magical moment was worth capturing, but I was so captured by him that it seemed almost irreverent to break the spell with a camera.

Second, we were without an internet connection for a few days.  It was horrible and wonderful.  I missed checking the blog, Facebook, email, news — but there was plenty of time to read “Mr. Brown Can Moo, Can You?” over and over to a giggling boy.  There’s no comparison.

Third, I did try to take some pics, but every one of them is a blur.  To be sure, that’s a reflection on my poor photography skills.  Hudson, however, did not stay put for a second, ever.  We’ll both work on it.

There.  Those are all my excuses.  And now, here is where my heart is.

As I was scrolling through all those blurry photos on my phone, I thought, “How appropriate.”  Life is a blur, isn’t it?  Wasn’t I just the one passing dreary winter afternoons with little ones who didn’t take long enough naps?  Was it that long ago that I was cutting toast up into tiny bite-sized pieces for the child in the high chair?  Has it been years since the smell of fresh-washed babies slathered with Baby Magic filled the air?

Thinking back, I remember feeling utterly overwhelmed one Saturday night.  PB and I had gotten four children in and out of the tub — scrubbed, rubbed dry and in their jammies.  “And now,” I thought, “I have to trim eighty fingernails and toenails.”  Eighty!  I didn’t know how I could possibly carry the responsibility of eighty fingers and toes to trim and love and kiss and teach.  Somehow we made it.  We all survived.

Today I prayed for a moment of clarity in the midst of the motion.

I tip-toed into Hudson’s room and watched his little body breath in and out.

Stillness.  Rest.  That’s how to stop the blur.

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Lovin’ Leviticus

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LeviticusI’m serious.  I found a way to love Leviticus.

Leviticus is the third book in the Bible.  It is wedged between the Exodus drama of the parting of the Red Sea, and the intriguing talking donkey and snake-on-a-stick episodes in Numbers.  Leviticus is a tough read with lots of strange rules and regulations.  It’s not my favorite book by a long shot.  But I wanted to do more than just “gut” my way through it this time.  So I found a way to love Leviticus.

After reading the first chapter I prayed, “Thank you, God.  Thank you that I don’t have to bring a bull to church, slaughter it and have PB splash the blood onto the altar.  Thank you, Jesus, for putting an end to all that death by dying.”

Having completed the chapters about the Burnt Offering, the Grain Offering, the Peace Offering, the Absolution Offering, and the Compensation Offering, I thought, “Whew!  Jesus covers it all!  What a relief!  Thank you!”

Following a riveting three chapters on infectious skin diseases and bodily discharges, I sang, “Halleluia!  He cleanses me from all unrighteousness!”

The detailed instructions for the Day of Atonement consisted of at least twenty-five steps for the High Priest to carry out.  There was a lot of blood involved.  I whispered, “Forgiveness is mine, just for the asking.  I’m so thankful.”

I’m loving Leviticus!  It’s making me appreciate Jesus more and more.

Wrestling Revisited: Reversal

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The main event in Genesis 32 is the wrestling match between Jacob and God. (See last post.)  But there is a long back-story involved here.  Isn’t that usually the case?

When Jacob swiped his older brother’s birthright and inheritance, Esau was pretty ticked.  In fact, he planned to kill his brother — so Jacob made a run for it.  The stolen birthright came with a cost — Jacob didn’t see his family for twenty years.  Did Jacob spend those two decades looking back over his shoulder, staying alert, bracing for his brother’s wrath to catch up with him?

Then one day Esau was seen on the horizon, approaching with 400 marching men, headed toward Jacob’s camp.  What was Jacob to think?  It didn’t look like a friendly family reunion in the making.  He sent his wives and children out ahead (nice move) along with wagon loads of gifts for his brother (worth a try).  Totally alone and stripped of everything he owned and everyone he loved, there was nowhere to run so Jacob finally faced his past and his fears.  The struggle lasted all night, but when the sun rose, Jacob had a new name (no longer Deceiver) and a humbler way of walking (a gimpy leg).

I don’t know what Esau had planned to do that day, but I think when he saw his twin brother limping toward him in the distance, he let his hatred go.  The Bible says Esau ran to Jacob, embraced him, kissed him and they cried together.  Maybe twenty years had mellowed Esau, or perhaps he’d had a wrestling match of his own.  What Jacob had dreaded most — the past that haunted him — came and embraced him with mercy and grace.  It was a holy reversal.

When I have regrets from the past or fears for the future I must lay them out on the mat and engage God in the struggle.  Then, what is looming large on the horizon, may just be the very thing that arrives with surprising mercy and grace.

Wrestling

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I never cared much for the sport of wrestling. My kids went for other sports in high school, like basketball, volleyball and baseball. The thought of two sweaty bodies in skimpy leotards rolling around on a mat in front of a crowd of people makes me a little weak. I confess — I’ve never attended a wrestling match, so I shouldn’t knock it, but it’s just not for me.

Or so I thought.

As it turns out, I do a lot of wrestling.

Reading through the Bible brought me to Genesis 32 — a wrestling match. In this corner: Jacob. In the opposite corner: the God of the Universe. Such a formidable opponent didn’t stop Jacob from stepping on the mat. In fact, it seemed Jacob had been training for this main event his whole life. Jacob and his twin brother, Esau, started wrestling in the womb;  Jacob, the Deceiver managed to grapple the birthright away from Esau;  Jacob, the Conniver contested Laban over sheep and wives.

But this time was different. After spending the whole night tangled in a no-decision, Jacob refused to cry “uncle,” even when his hip went out of joint. All for a blessing. Jacob received what he had been struggling for, and more. He came away from the contest with a new name and a limp. And no more need to wrestle.

What am I wrestling with right now? Letting go of children, growing older, desires for future dreams. The key for me is to stay on the mat. I welcome the struggle because it means I’m tangled up in His arms, I’m close enough to feel His breath, I can sense His strength. If I let go, I might avoid the limp, but I might miss the blessing.

“I will not let You go until You bless me.”  Genesis 32:26

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Taste Life

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A dear friend gave me this book and fountain pen awhile ago.  I’ve been waiting for something significant to write about that would be worthy of such a fancy book and precious ink.  Today I was reminded that every day has significance and worth.  So, I will open to page one and begin to taste life, watching for the gift in each day and giving it a place to land so it will not be lost, but savored again and again.

“Yes, we should make the most of what God gives, both the bounty and the capacity to enjoy it, accepting what’s given and delighting in the work. It’s God’s gift!”  Eccl. 5:19

Emeraude

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Some years, I find the perfect Christmas gift.  Some years, I don’t.  I nailed it this year.  PB opened the present from me and thought it was some stinky men’s cologne.  Without even looking at the bottle, he thanked me and set it down.  I smiled and said, “Oh, honey, that’s not men’s cologne.  You’d better smell it.”   With a curious look he lifted off the top and took a whiff.  Immediately, his eyes got a far-away, glazed-over look and somebody said, “What’s wrong with dad?”

Here’s the rest of the story:  In 1974, my brother was asked to lead the youth part of a weekend retreat at a church several hours away, so I went along for the ride.   The first person I met when we arrived was the pastor’s cute sixteen year old son.  In the following 48 hours, we got to know each other and flirted a little bit.  Ok, a lot.  Even at fourteen, I knew what I wanted in a guy — he had to have a strong faith in God, he had to sing, and he had to be good-looking.  Check…..check……check.   After the potluck dinner on Sunday afternoon, we exchanged addresses in the fellowship hall and promised to write.  (I’m referring here to letters.  No email, texts or Facebook chats.  Gosh, I feel old suddenly.)

A flurry of mail went back and forth over the next few months.  He used his best handwriting.  I sprayed my envelopes with Emeraude.  Hence, the far-away, glazed-over look this Christmas Eve.

Scent has a powerful connection to memory in our brains.  The sense of smell is sometimes called “nasal nostalgia” because we have strong associations of past memories with certain scents.  When God gave Moses instructions on building the tabernacle, He included a recipe for incense (Exodus 30:34-38) that was to be used exclusively at the place of worship.  Just one whiff of that spicy fragrance, and the Israelites were aware that they were entering the presence of the Lord.

Just one whiff of Emeraude, and PB was back in 1974, falling in love with me.

What Are You Waiting For?

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candle lightWhen you’ve been waiting a long time for something, and that something finally arrives, there is a sweet moment when all you can do and all you want to do is exhale, smile and say “thank you”.  I get that moment every year when the Christmas Eve service begins.  All the craziness of the season falls away and holiness finds a place, at last, in my heart.  This is what I’ve been waiting for.

A silent night, a holy night, calmness and brightness, heavenly peace.

The man I love stands before the hundreds gathered and welcomes them into the presence of God.  The choir invites us, “Come and worship, come and worship, worship Christ the newborn King.”  My 5-year-old friend sits beside me at the piano — her wispy angel-voice floats through the darkened sanctuary.  “Be near me Lord Jesus, I ask Thee to stay…” and we are drawn so near by her sweet song.  The praise band takes up guitars and drums to announce, “We are no longer lost, for He has come down for us.  We have a Savior!”  A teenage boy reads Luke 2, reminding us of his dear grandpa who read the passage last year, but is experiencing Christmas in heaven this year.  PB sits in the rocking chair and tells us a story — no preaching, no expounding on scriptures this night.  Instead, a simple story that touches our hearts and a prayer that says all we wish we could express.

Finally, the moment arrives.  We take our candles and pass the flame down the pew. One by one, row upon row, the lights flicker in the darkness, wrapping warmth around each person.  I look at the glowing faces next to me, and remember when they were babies, children, teens —  now adults.  “With the angels let us sing Alleluia to our King…”  And I’m singing with angels.

This is what I’ve been waiting for.

Worth the Wait

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We have some dear friends who are experts at waiting.  They are seasoned waiters.  They are waiting champions.  By God’s grace, the long wait is finally over.

Quint and Chelsea are a young couple who began the adoption process years ago.  Over a thousand days passed as they labored over paperwork, raised funds, and prepared their hearts to welcome a child.  It was a period of glorious highs and devastating lows.  Hopes were followed by disappointments, over and over and over.

This week, the Ethiopian government officials were satisfied, the papers were signed and baby Sammy came home.  His mommy had spent weeks in Africa, fighting for her son.  His daddy had tirelessly met each and every legal requirement.  It was a long, hard labor and delivery – which has only served to increase the intensity of the joy.

Do you think they will say Sammy was worth the wait?  Oh, yes.  Oh my, yes!  Many times over, yes!  When God’s purposes are fulfilled after long periods of wondering and struggling, there is a new awareness of how long, how wide, how deep and how high His love really is.

God is always worthy of our faithful waiting.

May the Lord direct your hearts into God’s love and Christ’s perseverance.     2 Thess. 3:5

*Please pray for little Sammy, as he has some health concerns that are being addressed. 

Wait For Me

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smileAs a follow up to the last post on various ways to wait, I was reminded that there is another type of waiting, although rarely practiced.  Often when I pray, I have specific people and situations in mind.  But occasionally I am drawn to wait before God for no reason — just to be with Him.  The Hebrew word means “to tarry, to hang around, to loiter”.  As Jan Johnson put it, “I just look at God and He just looks at me.”*

Some days, I close my notebook of prayer requests and lay it on the floor.  I relieve myself from the pressure of trying to pray “right”.  I shift the focus off myself and my agenda, my problems, my questions.  Although it seems like a total waste of time, sitting there not saying anything, it actually takes a fair amount of concentration to keep my mind from wandering away.  But when I do settle in, there’s an uncanny sense of peace.  Sometimes it’s nice to just sit and smile at God.  And He just smiles at me.

“For God alone my soul waits in silence.”  Psalm 62:1

*”When the Soul Listens”, Jan Johnson

Waiting Room

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waiting roomI think every church should have a Waiting Room.  I don’t mean like the ones in hospitals, clinics or offices; certainly not with Muzak and outdated magazines.  A Waiting Room — a place for people to go who are waiting for God to answer a prayer, to move in a situation, or ease a pain.  It would have to be an awfully big room, though, to fit us all in.  Hmm…maybe we should just use the sanctuary.  While we’re waiting, we could do a little worshipping, a little singing, share some burdens and lift each other up.  It’s better not to wait all alone anyway.  Since we’re all together, let’s have some coffee and doughnuts and visit awhile.  That’s the kind of waiting room I have in mind.  After all, we are all waiting for something, aren’t we?

There’s a lot of waiting going on in the book of Psalms. Those old Hebrew poets had a big advantage over us — they had a much wider choice of words at their disposal.  Our measly English word “wait” doesn’t come close to the array of expressions the psalm writers used.

For instance, one could wait expectantly.  It’s the picture of someone leaning forward, keeping an eye out and anticipating what is surely just around the corner.  (“Morning by morning I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation.”  Psalm 5:3)

There is hopeful waiting, which implies confidence combined with a sense that the answer may be down the road a ways.  What’s required here is sticking around long enough to see it through.  (“We wait in hope for the Lord; he is our help and our shield.” Psalm 33:20)

Of course, there is anxious waiting, which is the one we probably practice most.  This is a whirling, trembling, worry-filled type — you know the kind.  It takes all of your energy and leaves you exhausted.  (“Be quiet before Yahweh and wait for him.  Do not fret…”  Psalm 37:7)

And then there is a special Hebrew word for when the waiting is especially long.  It means to have patient endurance, to linger before God with all the pain exposed, to depend on Him alone.  Sometimes this kind of waiting goes on for years until the longed for answer comes.  (“I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry.” Psalm 40:1)

Waiting is part of God’s plan.  He sits by us in the Waiting Room, takes our hands and says, “I will wait with you.”

“Lord, I wait for you;  you will answer, Lord my God.”  Psalm 38:15