March 2018 – thelifeididntchoose

Saturday

For decades I looked forward to Saturdays.

When I was a child it meant a day off school and an opportunity for freedom. Many Saturdays were spent playing outside or riding along with my dad to the hardware store to pick up needed items for a home project.

A little older and I used up my Saturday at the horse barn. Mucking stalls, riding a little and hanging out with sawdust and hay and sweaty animals and people.

Older still and Saturdays meant date nights. Squeezing in fun between long days in a college classroom and part time work were what Saturdays were made for. Catching a movie, going dancing or taking a ride in the country were favorite past times.

Then came children and for awhile Saturdays represented the only time I was not solely responsible for four little lives. The only day I might get a chance to take a bath without small heads peeking around the doorway with some “emergency”.

Later, as they grew, Saturdays were spent at basketball games where three boys played on three different teams and it took all morning and into early afternoon for everyone to finish up. Sack lunches were the order of the day as we cheered and waited, waited and cheered. We went home exhausted and managed a little yard work before hitting the bed.

Children grow into adulthood and Saturdays continued to reflect changing needs, priorities and schedules but almost always meant some family time despite the many responsibilities of each of us. We managed to squeeze in family work days, family fun days, family trips, family movie nights. It was beautiful.

And then came one Saturday.

A Saturday I’d like to forget if it didn’t mean forgetting Dominic.

Now Saturday is a reminder of the doorbell,

of the news,

of the horror,

of the disbelief.

In some ways it is fitting that my heart is brought back around to this pain every Saturday because as a believer in Jesus, every Sunday is meant to recall the resurrection of Christ.

So EVERY weekend, not only THIS one during Holy Week, my heart replays the sequence of sadness turned to joy.

The difference is that I still wait for the fullness of my promised joy. But I’m holding on with both hands to that hope. I’m digging in my heels and refusing to be dragged away from the hem of His garment.

He is faithful Who promised.

He will redeem.

He will restore.

His resurrection proves it.

Holy Week Reflections: Living Between the Crucifixion and the Resurrection

It is tempting to forget that there were three long days and nights between the crucifixion and the resurrection beause the way we observe this season rushes us past the pain to embrace the promise.

But it’s not hard for me to imagine how the disciples felt when they saw Jesus was dead. It was neither what they expected nor what they prayed for.

Read the rest here: Living Between the Crucifixion and the Resurrection

Holy Week Reflections: Why Good Friday Matters as Much as Resurrection Sunday

Bury a child and suddenly the death of Christ becomes oh, so personal. The image of Mary at the foot of the cross is too hard to bear.

I trusted Jesus at an early age and I have lived my life beneath the shadow of the wings of the Almighty God.

But I never-not really-grasped the horror of the crucifixion until I watched as my own son’s body was lowered in the ground.

Death. is. awful.

Read the rest here: Remember: Why Good Friday Matters as Much as Resurrection Sunday

Holy Week Reflections: Be Like Jesus

I want to reach out with the same heart that my Master has for the lost and hurting and lonely and outcast.

I want it to be obvious to Whom I belong.

Today is the day on the church calendar when we pause and reflect on the Last Supper, and the last words of Jesus to His disciples.

A year’s worth of sermons is contained in John 13-17 but this week I have been drawn to just one verse:

[Jesus said] “Now I am giving you a new command—love one another. Just as I have loved you, so you must love one another. This is how all men will know that you are my disciples, because you have such love for one another.” John 13:34 PHILLIPS

The Israelites were given circumcision as the sign of the covenant. The shedding of blood as the mark of belonging.

But Jesus knew His blood would be the final and complete sacrifice required for sin. He knew the debt would be fully paid. And blood would no longer be required.

So a new mark is given, a new seal is declared: LOVE will be the designation by which others know who belongs to the Father through Christ, His Son.

I look around, and see how far we have fallen from the example and standard Jesus set for those of us who follow Him.

Read the rest here: Maundy Thursday

Keep on Keeping On

One of the challenges in this journey as it lengthens into years is that it is just so DAILY.

Milestone dates and holidays aside, most of the time I’m just a woman trying to make it through 24 hours at a time. I’m just doing all the things life requires without letting grief overwhelm me.

I’ve gotten pretty good at it too.

Sorrow is no longer all I feel and my son’s absence is no longer all I see.

I laugh as well as cry. I look forward to my living children joining me around the table. I anticipate changing seasons and plan holiday meals again.

But much of my time is spent plodding faithfully forward to a future I cannot see and a reunion I long for.

Maybe it’s because I’m only at four years but I haven’t yet recovered a sense of excitement about the future no matter what wonderful event might be waiting on the calendar.

I cannot recapture joyful anticipation.

The best I can do is not be afraid of what might be around the corner.

And keep on keeping on.

Holy Week Reflections: Sorrow Lifted as Sacrifice

In some liturgical Christian traditions, today is the day the church remembers and honors Mary anointing the feet of Jesus with expensive and rare perfume.

It was a beautiful act of great sacrifice as the perfume would ordinarily be a family treasure broken and used only at death for anointing a beloved body.

It’s also an expression of deep sorrow because somehow Mary knew.

Mary. Knew.

So she poured out her precious gift on the One Who loves her most.

Tears are my sacrifice.

I am pouring them at the feet of Jesus, trusting He will receive them and bless them as He did those of Mary even if others don’t understand.

Christians sometimes have a funny idea about sorrow being unspiritual. We often expect grieving hearts to heal quickly without allowing for the many stages of the grief process. Pam writes, ‘Our Savior was ‘a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief’ (Isaiah 53:3). I wonder if He came to one of our churches now like that, if someone wouldn’t try and cheer Him up and tell Him to ‘let it go and open himself to the joy of the Lord,’ then give him a book and tape series to that effect?’ “I am in deep distress. Let us fall into the hands of the Lord, for His mercy is great, but do not let me fall into the hands of men.” 2 Samuel 24:14
Jennifer Saake, Hannah’s Hope

I do know that God has made many precious promises to those who love Him and suffer sorrow in this life.

Psalm 84 has always been a favorite and since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven it is doubly so. Verse six speaks hope to my heart:

“Passing through the Valley of Weeping (Baca), they make it a place of springs; The early rain also covers it with blessings.” AMP

This version is beautiful:

And how blessed all those in whom you live,
    whose lives become roads you travel;
They wind through lonesome valleys, come upon brooks,
    discover cool springs and pools brimming with rain!
God-traveled, these roads curve up the mountain, and
    at the last turn—Zion! God in full view!
~ Psalm 84:5-7 MSG

No matter how difficult the passage, God promises to be with me on the journey and to bless my endurance with His very Self.

It’s hard to receive sorrow with open hands and even harder to lift it as a sacrifice of praise.

But when I do, I find God meets me there.

The pain doesn’t disappear, but He gives me strength to bear up under it.

And this great sorrow that weighs on my heart also opens my eyes. I am not the only one weeping.

Look at Jesus. He is always weeping, a man of sorrows. Do you know why? Because He is perfect. When you are not absorbed in yourself, you can feel the sadness of the world.
Tim Keller

Holy Week Reflections: Clearing Our Own Temples

Growing up in church I was always taught the story of Jesus clearing the Temple of money changers from a couple of perspectives. One, that He experienced and expressed righteous anger-as distinct from most of our own selfish human anger; and two, that doing business in God’s sanctuary was a no-no.

As I got older and began studying Scripture for myself without all the cues provided in Sunday School booklets for how I should be interpreting the verses, I came to a little different understanding of this very familiar passage.

The Temple was constructed with several “courts” in successive distance from the Holy of Holies where the Presence of the Lord dwelt above the Mercy Seat.

The outermost court was the Court of the Gentiles where even “unclean” outsiders were invited to draw a bit closer to the God of Israel, to hear about the great Jehovah and hopefully, have their eyes opened to truth.

But by Jesus’ day, the Jews had turned this court-this place of invitation for seekers-into a place of convenience for themselves when coming to Jerusalem to offer sacrifice and Temple tax as required by the Law.

This enraged Jesus!

Jesus went straight to the Temple and threw out everyone who had set up shop, buying and selling. He kicked over the tables of loan sharks and the stalls of dove merchants. He quoted this text:

My house was designated a house of prayer;
You have made it a hangout for thieves.

Now there was room for the blind and crippled to get in. They came to Jesus and he healed them.

Matthew 21:13-14 MSG

Now, most of our churches are scrupulous about not commercializing the space set aside for worship.

But we are far less careful about not constructing barriers to the outcast, limping, broken, stranger and alien.

We are just like the Jews-we want our worship space to be convenient and comfortable for US-for those who have already heard the Gospel-and do not mind if our convenience and comfort make it hard for those who do not know Jesus to even get inside the doors.

There are no money-changers in our lobbies but we have our own version of crowding out seekers.

We have our own customs that we don’t want to change even if they have nothing to do with Biblical Christianity. We have our favorite Bible translations even if they use such archaic language most people can’t understand it anymore. We insist that our services remain tethered to times and days and forms that don’t suit modern schedules or sensibilities.

Jesus was angry because the people entrusted to invite others to know and embrace the Truth were making it impossible for them to get inside.

I’m asking myself this Holy Week, do I do the same?

Am I building walls or opening doors?

Am I more concerned with my own comfort and convenience than another’s access to the Lord I claim to serve?

Holy Week Reflections: Making Space for Brokenness at the Table of the LORD

As we enter the week on the Christian calendar when most churches celebrate the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus Christ, I am reminded that often we race past the road that lead to Calvary and linger at the empty tomb.

But to understand the beauty of forgiveness and the blessing of redemption, we MUST acknowledge the sorrow of sin and the burden of brokenness.

Read the rest here: Making Space for Brokenness at the Table of the LORD

Blind and Broken

How do you know when you are blind?”…”You don’t…you only know afterward when you can see. The blindness of the disciples does not keep their Christ from coming to them. He does not limit his post-resurrection appearances to those with full confidence in him. He comes to the disappointed, the doubtful, the disconsolate. he comes to those who do not recognize him even when they are walking right beside him. He comes to those who have given up and are headed back home, which makes this whole story a story about the blessedness of brokenness.

[Barbara Brown Taylor, Gospel Medicine]

Oh, how I am tempted to build a wall between myself and Jesus!

I keep thinking that I must be a certain way or do a certain thing to be worthy of His grace and mercy.

The checklists I create are really just a way to make myself feel better about my own helplessness.

And I am so very helpless.

There is no prerequisite to receiving grace.

He comes.

He gives.

He saves.

I am the good shepherd. I am the one who really cares for the sheep. The good shepherd is willing to die to save his sheep. ~Jesus

John 10:11 WE

When God Disappoints Us

I know many faithful readers who also follow Christ may gasp at this title. But the definition of disappoint is most literally, “not to live up to expectations”. And if we are honest, every one of us has expectations of how God is going to act in our lives. I know I did!

Aren’t there promises in Scripture that declare good things for those who obey the Lord? Aren’t there proclamations of protection?

So when Dominic died I was most certainly disappointed. ❤

I can identify with the faithful among the Palm Sunday crowd- joyful because all evidence pointed to a happy climax.

Here was the Messiah entering Jerusalem just like the prophets promised. Surely an end to this pagan tyranny was near!

“Hosanna in the highest! Blessed is He Who comes in the name of the Lord!”

Just a little longer and this heavy burden will be lifted, this hard life transformed.

A few days later this same crowd would choose a murderous rebel over the gentle Rabbi because He had not lived up to their expectations of deliverance.

I can identify with those folks too.

God most certainly has not lived up to my expectations. He has not fashioned my life according to my plan.

He has not delivered me from this body of sin and death.

He allowed death to enter my home and my heart.

I am tempted, in my sorrow, to shake my fist and demand an answer. And then, in a moment of clarity I realize how foolish that is.

“Where were you when I [God] laid the earth’s foundation?
    Tell me, if you understand.
⁵Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know!
    Who stretched a measuring line across it?
⁶On what were its footings set,
    or who laid its cornerstone—
⁷while the morning stars sang together
    and all the angels shouted for joy?

Job 38:4-7 NIV

I am in no position to judge God’s motives, His heart, His plan. I am bound by time and blinded by the limitations of my flesh.

I want immediate relief because pain is painful and sorrow is heavy and grief is unbearable in my own strength.

But God knows the end from the beginning. He is weaving all these things into a story that will be told for eternity. He is creating masterpieces to declare His glory, His faithful love and His grace and mercy.

For we are the product of His hand, heaven’s poetry etched on lives, created in the Anointed, Jesus, to accomplish the good works God arranged long ago.

Ephesians 2:10 VOICE

So on this Palm Sunday I will join the crowd of worshipers shouting, “Save us! Son of David!”

I will lay my sacrifices at His feet and trust that He will redeem and restore what the enemy has stolen.

I will refuse impatience when the time of waiting lingers long before me.

I will refuse despair when it looks like things are dark and may never be light again.

I will trust and not be afraid because my King has conquered and is conquering every evil thing and every sad thing.

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