Praise – Page 2 – thelifeididntchoose

How Lament Makes Room For Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving was always my favorite holiday.

I loved everything about it: the color scheme, the food (I love, love, love to cook-it was never a burden), family and friends gathered around the table, and the wonderful slowness of the day as it lingered into nightfall.

It was more flexible than Christmas for including all sorts of folks who otherwise didn’t have someplace to go. Living near colleges meant that we welcomed students from around the world-we might have two or three dozen laughing faces milling about.

It was wonderful.

And I loved going around the circle, tummies bursting, to share what people were thankful for and why.

When Dominic left us everything changed.

Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2016/11/24/the-power-of-lament/

When Thanksgiving Is A Sacrifice

Rocking babies I never dreamed that one day my life would look like this.

I never imagined that one of those tiny bodies I held close to my mama heart would not outlive me.

Now I sit in the same rocking chair in the dark, thinking about how so many things I wouldn’t have written into my story are now part of it.

And if I’m honest, it can easily overwhelm my heart. It can carry me to a place of despair and desperation where there’s no room for thanksgiving-not the holiday OR the feeling.

Read the rest here: Thanksgiving As Sacrifice

How Scripture Gets Tangled: Missing Out On Deep Truth

I think we often interpret Old Testament Bible verses in terms of New Testament reality.

Sometimes that’s warranted because the verses foreshadow the fullness of Christ’s birth, life, death and resurrection.

But sometimes we miss out on the deeper meaning of what God was saying through His prophets.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard the verse, “This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it” quoted as a general blessing/admonition/encouragement at the beginning of a worship service or just the start of an ordinary day.

I don’t think that’s technically a misappropriation of the sentiment, but I do think it falls far short of what the Psalmist was trying to convey.

The Temple stood on a hill above Jerusalem and those last steps for the pilgrims who traveled faithfully three times a year to celebrate the appointed festivals were hard. Many had walked miles and miles and were just plain tired.

Ruins of Steps Leading to Herod’s Temple

So they sang songs (Psalms) to encourage their hearts as they plodded forward.

If you have a Bible with notes you’ll see them marked as “Songs of Ascent” because that was exactly what they were.

In addition to the expense, time, effort and commitment it took to make it to the Temple, pilgrims were expected to offer a sacrifice. Some could bring their own and some had to purchase a lamb or ram or other sacrificial animal from those offered by vendors just outside the inner courts.

It could be easy to resent the cost of coming.

It would be absolutely understandable to get just a bit disgruntled making those last few steps to plunk down a sacrifice to a God they couldn’t see.

So the Psalmist says, “This is the DAY (the appointed feast, the reminder of covenant, the renewal of promise) the Lord (Yahweh, the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and you) has made (ordained, appointed, set aside). Let us rejoice (revel in the fact that He has chosen us of all people, that He is faithful, that we can come and worship) in it.”

God doesn’t need my lamb or goat or calf.

The feasts weren’t designed to jog His memory regarding my relationship with Him, they were designed to help ME remember that I am creature and He is Creator.

And I need that reminder most when things are hard, when I am tired and when I may have forgotten that worship is a privilege.

Some days are uphill all the way.

I’ve had a few of those lately.

And while this verse isn’t really about ordinary days, it helps my heart as much on those as it does on the special ones. ❤

Holy Week 2019: 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.

Holy Week Reflections: Sorrow Lifted as Sacrifice

Thanksgiving As Sacrifice

Rocking babies I never dreamed that one day my life would look like this.

I never imagined that one of those tiny bodies I held close to my mama heart would not outlive me.

Now I sit in the same rocking chair in the dark, thinking about how so many things I wouldn’t have written into my story are now part of it.

And if I’m honest, it can easily overwhelm my heart. It can carry me to a place of despair and desperation where there’s no room for thanksgiving-not the holiday OR the feeling.

Here we are-the fifth year of holidays without Dominic-and I’m no better at it than I was at first.

Oh, I’ve figured out how to make my way through the day. I can lay out the plates, fill the pantry and put on a spread. I am not nearly as prone to tears as I once was-at least not while folks are watching.

But that easy flow of laughter and near chaos that once marked our gatherings has been replaced by a kind of mechanical plodding that moves from one moment to the next until the day has passed and I’ve survived once again.

I always expected our family to grow larger. I looked forward to the day we would no longer fit around the dining room table and we’d have to figure it out. Spouses and then grandchildren peopled my imagination with such clarity! While I never saw faces, I could hear the laughter and watch the motion of so. many. new. lives filling my home.

This year is especially strange.

Circumstances and work schedules and distance dictate that Thanksgiving will be spent with most of my family far away from my table.

So there won’t be just one empty chair today, there will be several.

And if I stare too long or focus too closely on what I don’t have, I can forget what I still possess.

It’s a temptation-always.

But temptation can be resisted. I am not doomed to follow that train of thought to the bottom of the pit of despair.

I refuse to let the darkness overwhelm the light.

I will be thankful for all the love this house has known, still knows and will know. I will be grateful that even though we are physically distant, we talk to one another, sharing laughter across the miles. I will cherish the moments I had with Dominic and rest in the knowledge that in eternity we will have so many more.

I can’t fill that chair-no one can fill that chair except my son-but I can fill my heart with good things.

I can choose thankfulness even when it’s hard.

Maybe that’s what Thanksgiving is really about-not an unending list of all the sweet things in life-but a short list of beauty extracted from the hard places.

Thanksgiving isn’t always bounty, sometimes it’s sacrifice.

❤

Sunflowers Sing Praise

I love, love, love sunflowers!

Always have.

I love their bright aspect that brings a smile to my face no matter what mood I’m in or what trial I’m facing. Their happy, heavy heads declare that today is a day to shine!

Last week as I was walking, getting some *fresh* air in congested California I passed a house where some precious soul had planted a row of sunflowers and they were standing bravely, boldly behind the fence that declared, “This far and no further”.

Their heads were turned toward the eastern sky, soaking in the sun’s rays and reflecting back the light and life that sun brings to everything on earth.

There is no denying that sunflowers sing praise.

They sing praise to a new day when their heads rise to meet the sun.

They sing praise to provision when they follow the light as it moves across the sky.

They sing praise to rest when their heads droop as the sun sinks low in the western horizon.

They are a living testimony to our Creator.

sunflower explain miracles plant a garden

I want to be like the sunflowers-compelled to turn my face to the Son.

I want to be a witness to the life He gives and sustains.

I want to reflect and represent Him boldly, bravely and big.

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

Mardi Gras and Ash Wednesday: A Study in Contrasts

Twenty-four hours separate one of the most outlandish global parties and one of the most somber religious observances on the Christian calendar.

Many of the same folks show up for both.

Mardi Gras, “Fat Tuesday”, is the last hurrah for those who observe Lent-a time of reflection, self-denial and preparation before Resurrection Sunday.

It’s a giant party-food, fellowship and fun-a wonderful way to celebrate the blessings of this life.

Ash Wednesday, by contrast, is an invitation to remember that “from dust you came and to dust you will return”.

None of us get out of here alive.

Even where the Gospel is preached every Sunday there are those who forget this life is hard and often full of pain and suffering.

If your experience so far has looked more like Mardi Gras and less like ashes, well, then-be thankful.

But don’t be deceived.

“From dust you came and to dust you will return.”

For some of us it was a similar twenty-four hour turnaround that upset our world, tossed us headfirst into the waves of sorrow and burned that truth into our hearts, not just dabbed it on our foreheads.

Sometimes I feel excluded from fellowship with the saints because I can’t join in the celebratory spirit of a worship service.

When the hymns only focus on our “victory in Jesus” my heart cries, “Yes-but perhaps I won’t see the victory this side of heaven.”

When the congregation claps and dances to feel-good songs that celebrate the sunshine but ignore the rain, my eyes swim with tears because I know the reality of a downpour of sorrow.

Because sometimes praise is a sacrifice.

Church needs to be a place where we can share the pain as well as the promise that Christ will redeem it.

Jesus Himself said, “in this world you will have trouble”.

So I can’t claim allegiance to the Church of the Perpetually Cheerful.

I want to create space for the hurting and broken and limping and scared.

How about a new denomination that acknowledges the truth that life is hard.

Instead of the “Overcoming Apostolic Praise-filled Ministers of Eternal Optimism” I would name it the “Trudging But Not Fainting Faithful.“

By all means enjoy the “Fat Tuesdays” in life.

Drink them in, dance, celebrate!

But remember that it can change in a heartbeat.

And that it HAS changed for many of us.

There is hope.

All is not lost.

But in the meantime, it’s hard.

Repost: Worship as Warfare

After [Jehoshaphat] had advised the people, he appointed people to sing to the LORD and praise him for the beauty of his holiness. As they went in front of the troops, they sang, “Thank the LORD because his mercy endures forever!”

2 Chronicles 20:21 GWT

I love worship music.

My heart is transported from here to there in a single note.

In a moment, I am before the Throne, inside the Holy of Holies, crying out for more, more, more of Jesus.

Read the rest here: Worship as Warfare

Grief is Not Sin

Grief is not sin.

It wasn’t until another grieving mom asked the question that I realized there are some (many?) in the community of believers that think grief is sin.

Not at first, mind you-everyone is “allowed” a certain amount of time to get over the loss of a dream, the loss of a job, the loss of health or the loss of a loved one.

But carry that sadness and wounded heart too publicly for too long and you better be ready for someone to question your faith.

And (heaven forbid!) you drag your limping soul to church on Sunday and sit silent during worship, tears streaming, as the rest of the congregation heartily affirms all the things you now wrestle with every day.

Is God good? ALL the time? Does God protect the ones He loves? ALL the time?

“We bring the sacrifice of praise….” What sacrifice have you made lately? Have you buried a child?

I think anything has the potential to be sin. If I allow my heart, mind and soul to focus exclusively on what I’ve lost instead of what I’m promised through Jesus Christ, that is sin.

But grief itself is not sin.

Paul said, “We do not grieve as those who have no hope” NOT “we do not grieve”. (I Thessalonians 4:13)

Sadness is not sin. Sorrow and missing my son is not sin.

For a time, especially at the beginning, grief occupied most of my field of vision. It’s that huge.

We are made of dust and it cannot be otherwise.

Death is awful and the redemption of what was lost in the Fall cost God His only son. “The whole creation groans” (mourns, grieves) “to be set free from bondage to decay”. (Romans 8:21-22)

Jesus cried out, “My God, My God, Why have You forsaken Me?” as He bore the full weight of sin and sorrow of the world.

I believe that grief becomes sin when I choose to turn my face away from God and only toward my sorrow.

If I am holding it and dragging it with me toward the foot of the cross, that’s not sin.

If I turn my heart and face toward the One Who made me and trust that even in this painful place He is carrying me and will care for me, that’s not sin.

The writer of Hebrews speaks of bringing the “sacrifice of praise” (Hebrews 13:15). It is no sacrifice to praise God for the beautiful blessings.

It is quite the sacrifice to praise God for what Joni Eareckson Tada calls a “bruising of a blessing”.

If I continue to wrestle, like Jacob-clinging and begging for the blessing-I am not sinning when I walk away with the limp the wound leaves behind.

Jesus has opened the way to the throne of grace by His own blood.

I don’t have to hide and I don’t have to be afraid.

He knows my pain. He knows my name.

I keep bringing my broken heart to the altar and lift it up in broken praise.

That’s not sin.

It’s the widow’s mite-it’s everything I’ve got.

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