40 Days of Lent: Journal Entry #3

See.

"What I'm interested in seeing you do is:
sharing your food with the hungry,
inviting the homeless poor into your homes,
putting clothes on the shivering ill-clad,
being available to your own families.
Do this and the lights will turn on,
and your lives will turn around at once.
Your righteousness will pave your way.
The God of glory will secure your passage.
Then when you pray, God will answer.
You'll call out for help and I'll say, "Here I am!"

-Isaiah 58: 7-9

See.
I began mulling over what kind of photo to take to express that word and verse.
I thought of glasses to aid in seeing...
I thought of a keyhole to see through...
I thought of finding poverty to photograph.

So off I went to look for something to photograph to express seeing the needs around me. That's when I discovered how clean and tidy my town is. You don't see homelessness or poverty around like you'd think. There aren't many places to find the hungry or the shivering out on the street.
They are hidden.

Or maybe they are tidied up and covered up.

Maybe, its good that there isn't any visible poverty showing.
Maybe its very sad.

Maybe the sad part is the look of affluence, the excess around. The nice, tidy homes. Maybe it could be people who hide their poverty, or maybe its just people hiding from poverty.

How do I hide from poverty?

Thoughts on Seeing today. Seeing the poor, the shivering, the broken, the hungry.


Later:

After writing the above, I started thinking about poverty in my area. I asked on Facebook where I might find it here...and then I took a long drive alone.
I explored my town with new eyes, ventured into places and neighborhoods I didn't know existed, and found places where poverty slapped me in the face. Nothing hidden, covered up here. It was exposed, and shouting.
It was such an interesting experience. Nothing I saw was any worse than anything I encountered every day in Bolivia, yet there I wandered around quite fearlessly on foot, and in my car here, I began to feel fear as I drove through places where I obviously did not fit in. It gave me quite a pause, and I considered it while I drove slowly through neighborhoods watching little children play, watching people walk up and down the street, seeing houses in such sad shape yet with people living there anyway. In my hometown.
Why was I feeling that fear? Why was I glancing away, and why did I naturally turn toward the nicer streets first? I forced myself to turn against it, to face it, to look long at these places. To trace the dirt and grime, to meet the eyes of the people I saw, to smile at them. To see.
I was fearful of the depression and poverty. I was afraid of what might lurk, of things I have no real experience with. The shadows were long and attempting to grab me, and I was too willing to run away.

An interesting lesson to myself. Its easy to write about poverty on a nice laptop in a comfortable chair maybe while munching on delicious food. Its so easy to be self-righteous and hypocritical. But then when the rubber meets the road, and I come face to face with reality, what then? What about this world, this other side of things, ugly and uncomfortable? What do I know of it, and what am I doing about it?

I never took my photo today. I saw new things, I have many new mental snapshots within my own zip code, but I never snapped that button on my camera. I was busy seeing. The photo was not made, but it was a changed perspective and new way of looking at my own town, my own neighborhood, looking for those hidden places, or rather, the poverty I hide from.

40 Days of Lent: Journal Entry #1

Who am I?
The word prompt for this photo.

A question I am struggling with and thinking about a lot these days. Who am I? There are so many people eager to define for me who I am, who have opinions or thoughts on who I should be, or how I might look, or what I might be made of. Its confusing and I strive to find myself in all the babble.

Who am I? As I contemplated this phrase and how to picture it, I began to think of where I am these days, the brokenness I am facing and feeling every moment. I feel all edges and smashed in sharp pieces. I am the broken pottery. I am the pieces of something...

I chose these pieces of pottery because they are pieces I dug up two years ago in Israel at first century level. I remember the careful digging, centimeter by centimeter or even less, by brushes or tiny tools. Even these pieces, these broken bits were carefully handled, carefully brushed out of the dirt and carefully lifted away from the dust where it had lain for centuries.

This pottery is dated to the period of time that Jesus lived in that region. The imagination can take off, inviting all sorts of speculation of what sort of vessel it was part of, and what it held. And whether it was used by Jesus. And yet here these same pieces lay in my hand so many thousands of years later.

Broken pieces. Scattered shards.

They are broken now. But that does not mean they can not be repaired.

Each piece we dug up on that archaeology site was carefully numbered, drawn and eventually glued back into place, back together with other pieces until it formed the original vessel again. What was broken was made whole again.

Who am I? Broken pottery. Broken and waiting to be repaired again.

Ebenezer

Wow. The last couple of evenings, I've spent re-reading much of my blog. I've read most of the published posts, and some unpublished ones as well. I've remembered thoughts and circumstances which lead to thoughts which led to the writings here. And I've been amazed.

What an ebenezer, this blog is.
And it is a good thing for me to see this ebenezer, this stone of remembrance.

An ebenezer is a stone raised in a certain place, so when others see it they can ask what it stands for, and can hear and remember the stories it represents. Ebenezers of God's grace and goodness and mercy.

In the path and rush of life, it is so incredibly easy to forget these mercies and graces and answered prayers. Its so easy to forget the thousands of blessings and gifts. It is necessary to remember these things. Its necessary to look back and see the beauty of God's presence.

I used to keep a prayer journal, and go back periodically to date when things happened or prayers were answered. It was amazing to see it in black and white. Now I am looking back at this story, and am amazed at the views I've seen and the miracles that have happened.

God is ever good.
God is ever present.
Here I raise my ebenezer. My stone of remembrance for all He has done.

Do I Want Jesus?

"I want you Jesus."
I stared at the words I had just written, black ink on cream colored paper, the script lovely there. I stared and prayed, and searched my heart and wondered.
Do I really want Jesus? Do I want that gift of sacrifice in my heart? Do I want that joy? Do I want that peace? Do I want that difficult journey, that hard life of following Him? Do I want that freedom, that love always present? Do I? And do I have the commitment to keep on following during the dark days, when I can't see one step ahead? Do I trust that He will lead me? I have faith His way is good? What is His way? Of following principles of living righteously before God and man, of showing love to others, of giving ourselves selflessly to His will and service. Yes, and I committed to die for Him. I thought I could hold to my faith enough to die for it.
Is a form of dying for your faith dying to wants in favor of principle?
Jesus, the sacrifice of love. Jesus, the one who brings wholeness and wellness and fills our hearts and minds. Jesus, who died, so I might live.
Every day Christ comes. We accept salvation at a pivotal moment perhaps, and it becomes "the" moment in our minds when we became saved, when we became Christian. Mine is June 26th. But faith is an every day affair. Somehow, you are required each day to continue to live with faith and trust. Every day you must accept the salvation. Christ comes every day to save you and me.
This moment, this day, I accept the salvation of Christ. I receive the love of Christ in my heart, and remember my baptism that signified a change in me, signified a cleansed heart. Today I renew a life lived for Christ, a life lived following Jesus.
And I am grateful for this joy, this gift. The salvation of my soul from Hell. The salvation of my soul from the darkness that pervades us, surrounding us.
The gift of God for the people of God. Thanks be to God.


Father of grace, You’ve sacrificed
Your only Son for us, the crucified Jesus
Enlarge our hearts to love Your Son
O grant to us the grace to walk with Him always
To make Him our great delight 
Bringing worship with our lives 

Chorus
Only Jesus! Only Jesus! 
Give us Jesus, we cry
Only Jesus! Only Jesus!
The Pearl of greatest price

Verse 2
Spirit of grace, You’ve shed Your light
Upon our darkened eyes, unveiling Jesus Christ
Come change our hearts, conform our ways
To honor Jesus’ Name, His glory our refrain
Let His love compel our own 
As we worship at His throne

Bridge
Jesus, our great Savior,
Lord of heaven, Son of God 

Just Katie

Who am I?
Deep down inside, where the heart pumps, sending blood coursing through my veins?
What are my dreams when I close my eyes? What are my hopes, my fancies, my wildest imaginings? And how do they fit with this body I live in, this humanity that covers my soul?
Who is this person, and what are her goals, and where is she going?

And so I begin a questioning and serious thinking as I try to define even more who I am. More blogging will come from this. I've begun already a little the past few days. But more ideas of who I am will come trickling up from the depths.

I'm thinking of my future and where it might be going.
I'm dreaming of my home and lifestyle and way of doing life.
I'm imagining different paths to take.
I'm examining my passions and joys.
I'm captivating these glimpses and putting to words what I see.

Some things may appear here. Some will be written on my heart, for others to discover later.

Who am I?
Just Katie.

A Home That Says Welcome

One day, I want to have the type of household that makes people feel welcome. The type that has an open door policy, with people in and out, coming to sit and talk, or coming to find the answer to questions in their hearts.

I want the hospitality that says, "come live with me for a while," and means it. If it means a few minutes, or a few months.

I want to share the warmth of knowing that everyone is welcome to come with you whether its your best friend, or your aunt's second cousin twice removed always with long stories on his mind that just has to be shared. I want many people, of many colors and many accents and many languages and many backgrounds to gather under my roof, to share bread together, laughter echoing off the walls. I want my family to spontaneously invite random strangers home for a meal, warm soup filling cold stomachs after a hard day.

I have a dream of a home that welcomes folks in, drawing them in irresistibly. Lamps in the windows, warm lights streaming out. Delicious, comforting food causing folks to sniff the air hungrily, and gather around the table willingly. Hands held as prayers are said, and hearts are lifted. I want the home that sings, and laughs. That long, quiet discussions are held in, that stimulating ideas are formed in, that people leave, feeling they encountered Someone unexpectedly, but blessedly.

I want the home that says, "walk in and become one of us for a while. Join our lives, our activities, our way of living, and become one with us."

One of my favorite things to do is to make people feel welcome and important and special. I want to find ways to connect with people, and to somehow express Christ's love to them, even if only through a smile or cheery hello. I want to use this gift in my own home.

I love to talk to people and find out how they think. I like to read their hearts, hear their stories, and find kinship with people. Its amazing how this works across language and cultural barriers.

One day, this will be the home that I will have. One day, my welcome mat will be swept and ready, the lamps lit, the bread baking in the oven.
And a smile and cheery hello to welcome.

Transformed

Life is such a transformative process. Its never still, always moving and changing you, if you let it. If you're living passionately and fully. And as you live, you change, transforming into a person you never thought of before. Its beautiful and mysterious, and it all fits together in a way that can't always be explained. Any attempts to define it turn into an emphatic shake of the head, and a "that's life!" comment.

Every so often I suddenly awaken to the fact that I have changed or moved on to being someone I never thought of before for myself. I take a quick look around and realize that the Katie that used to be has morphed into the Katie of today, and often its like watercolors that have bled from pastel to vibrancy, or from one color to another, becoming an interesting riot of yellows or pinks, blending into oranges or purples, fading into an entirely new shade.

Every so often I realize that the passions or interests or reactions have all changed, and I'm doing things or going places I never thought I'd see myself do or go. New paths are taken, the old ones never to return. Its interesting, to take an observer standpoint and review my life, watching myself as a movie, as it were. I wonder how the story will end, because I get to a certain point and suddenly realize there is only future left, no more history to remember. It remains to be made.

Things happen on the journey, new places open up new vistas and thoughts, and experiences introduce new ideas of possibility. And in the blink of an eye, a snapshot is made, is set into history, and things all change again.

And here we go again, into a new being, transforming again. I hope it is transforming into a better person, with lessons learned. I hope it is with wisdom and joy and depth that I change, becoming more of a well-rounded, healthy person.

 I have to let it happen though. I have to allow the changes of ideas and let go of the past long enough to embrace what comes next. To allow the pain of difference to heal into a stronger version of myself.

I have to allow Christ to change my innermost being, transform me into a new Katie, and embrace the work it takes to keep on changing, to keep on following His new paths within me. Because isn't that the ultimate goal? To become more like Him, mirroring Him as much as possible within ourselves. To follow His examples and to allow our lives to show His love?
Transformational.

Disgusting Materialism

The past month or so I have been struck by materialism. And as the holiday season begins, it really causes me to notice it more and more. The materialism is just sickening to me.

I used to be just like the next one, and had lists of things I wanted for Christmas, or went shopping and wanted the things I saw. I was never brand loyal or interested in the latest technology or newest versions of things, but there was always something else I needed to be happy or live better.

Perhaps its because I spent the summer in an area of the world where they live with a much lower standard of living. Seeing people live joyously on so little puts things into perspective. Watching someone take crusts and leftovers off people's plates in a restaurant suddenly makes you want to clean your plate at home. Meeting little children who are hungry suddenly makes black Friday shopping seem much less...necessary.

Why do we do this? What does all the stuff even mean? Does it really make you happy to know that you have the latest $600 phone? Is it really a necessity? Does it really make you feel better about yourself to buy loads of new, shiny things? Things are meaningless. Things will go out of style, get broken or look less shiny. Things have a way of fading away, and then you can't remember what you even owned or had.

It all just makes me so disappointed to see people spending so much money and time on what lasts for moments or is quickly forgotten. We have things so backwards, and no one seems to realize, but rush on to the next item, or stand in line at the next sale to get the item that will make them happier or look better. And no one knows why, it seems. The money we spend on things for ourselves or our children...a fraction of that is someone else's daily living. And what are we spending it on?

The materialism is a problem when it grows so out of proportion with everything else, that it overshadows what is really important. How do you put into perspective what is necessary vs. what is superfluous?

I keep thinking of the line, "you can't take it with you." and I wonder, what happens to all the time spent on these things, when we die? What about all the money we've wasted? How is that accounted for when we're dead? What good did we do Steve Jobs by buying the newest version of the same product over and over again? What good did we do ourselves? And in the end, what did it all matter, really.

And then I think of the millions of people who just barely survive, much less worry about whether they have the things we deem necessary in our culture. Cable tv and internet on our cellphones. Some don't even have heated houses, or sufficient clothing. Not to mention decent food or water.

I'm generally feeling disgusted by it all, and especially this Christmas season. In the rush of buying, the flurry of making lists for Santa, I just want to sit back and say, so what? Where's it getting us, who is it helping, and who are we harming with all this STUFF. Stuff that will burn away and can disappear in moments. And leave us with....what becomes the essentials. Things like relationships, like character, like intangibles that will never be burned away or stolen. And this season to remember and celebrate Jesus' beginnings...I'm not sure the Jesus I know would be thrilled by what its turned into. Worshipful gratefulness for the gift of salvation, for what He ultimately came to do...by buying?

I find materialism disgusting. Things don't impress me. Let me see your passion, your life, your inner self. Those things will always be there, no matter what. I don't want to live with all this stuff. I don't want to be defined by it, I don't want my money wasted on it. I know we need certain things to live, but all those extras...what if we went without and gave the money to someone else?

I grew up during an extremely hard time in our family. We had many nice, new things, but compared to everyone else around us, we had nothing. I remember Christmas' with a new toy. A present from my parents. And it did a world of good for me. I never regret growing up with less than my friends. It gave me so much to be grateful for. It gave me so much awareness of what is really necessary to happiness. And it wasn't heaps of things.

Oh Jesus! Help us see that Your love is the ultimate important, necessary thing! Help us to put into perspective the things that attract us so, help us to use the gifts you have given us to show your love to others instead of selfishly thinking of ourselves. Forgive us for losing ourselves in things. With all my heart, I pray. Amen.
 

Reflecting

I'm feeling kind of quiet and reflective. I've had a lot going on the past few weeks, and its all coming to a point soon. I've been mulling over some things and looking back and rethinking. Its draining and exhilarating at the same time. One of those moments when the next breath might change your course, never to return and make a new decision.
In the midst I keep trudging on with every day tasks and thoughts, and take out these others during repose or moments of respite.

I've been thinking of re-reading my blog and journals. Every year, near the start of the new year I like to look behind at where I've come from in order to gain some perspective of where I might be going. The path behind is often indicative of things that are patterns or directions that might be missed if we never reviewed them. Its time for this review, time to take stock and see where I am and who I am.

Somehow, the girl who started out this year feels so different than the one ending it. I'm almost afraid to look at who she was, and cringe a little at what I might see. I hope its a better version of Katie at the end of the year than at the beginning. I hope its a deeper and more mature Katie, one showing growth and change in a positive way.

There have been so many adventures, so many dark places, and yet a lot of light, too. I feel like I climbed a mountain, took in the view, and now...what's next? Coming off the mountain top experience can be sort of like getting the breath knocked out of you. But it is a view everyone should experience and remember vividly. Its a vision, really, of where we should be aiming to live. A big picture viewpoint.

So as this year winds down, I begin to reflect and revisit places in the path, ebenezers and markers, to see where I've been, and catch a glimpse of where I'm going.

Most of all I want to follow Jesus. Where ever that might lead.

Peaceful Sleep

I curl up in my lovely bed, and muscles begin to relax into the softness of the sheets and the warmth of the blankets. Pillows billow everywhere, and my eyes close slowly and I float away into blissful oblivion.

I'm so lucky to have this soft bed. And pillows. And blankets. And sheets, smelling of wind and sun. When I lie here, letting them soothe and calm me, I am blessed beyond measure.

Just as I close my eyes, the sleep starts pulling, my body starts resting, and my brain starts running. But gradually it too calms, and then my thoughts float freely and I float, too. Then all I know is dreams and a deep, peaceful darkness.

I like to snuggle deep under the covers, with only the tip of my nose poking out for fresh air. I like thin, flat pillows that I can move and pummel. I like the security of a thick blanket or quilt protecting me from the cold, and I like the deliciousness of waking up slowly.

Peaceful sleep. I wish everyone a peaceful, deep sleep that is uninterrupted and completely refreshing. It is a luxury. Peaceful in quietness, peaceful in safety, peaceful in repose and peaceful in nothing to worry or cause anxiety.

Sueños conmigo. Dream with me. Dream together. Dream of the joys and impossible things. Dreaming is fascinating and lovely, and I often dream something so real that when I wake, I think it is not a dream. Or its so lovely, that I wake but try to keep the dream a little longer. I hate for it to disappear and become reality again.

Peaceful sleep, breath coming slowly and rhythmically, body perfectly relaxed.

Sueños conmigo esta noche. Dream with me this night.

How?

How do I sort out the pieces of my heart, and fit them all together?
How do the drops of rain fall in pattern?
How do the leaves know when to change color?

How do I count the stars at night?
How do I explain the shine of the moon's face?

How do I account for the dreams I have so deep in my heart? How do I find the courage to keep on toward them, and not lose sight of the end in the confusion of the way?

How do I name the thoughts and feelings? How do I write what I desire in so many words, when what I want is so big and beautiful?

How do I explain the innermost workings of my heart to others?
How do I grasp hold of a flickering light and make it shine brighter?

How do I speak of things never uttered, only felt?
How do I believe that nothing is impossible?

How do I remember who I am a midst the babble and confusion?

How do I find who I am a midst the babble and confusion?

How do I take one step at a time?

How do I trust?

Psalm 88:12-13
Are your wonders known in the place of darkness, or your righteous deeds in the land of oblivion?
But I cry to you for help, Lord; in the morning my prayer comes before you.

Psalm 121:1-3
I lift up my eyes to the mountains- where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip-he who watches over you will not slumber.

A Collection

I'm staring at my screen, my brain racing and attempting to collect my thoughts. Writing is relaxing to me, and I am needing to wind down from a busy day and crazy week and organize some thoughts and bring the adrenaline rush down.

And so, a collection of thoughts.

Collections kind of fascinate me. I wondered why people do it, and then I realized I have collections, too. But the thing I think about most is tiny collections. Some people collect a certain item or subject until they have hundreds or thousands.

And some collect until they have three or four. They choose carefully, and wait until just the thing comes along that draws out the beauty from inside them and reminds them of it whenever they see it. Something special and because there are so few of them, they can actually get to know each piece well and recognize each part.

That's what fascinates me, the tiny collections. The big ones become unwieldy  and you can't have them all out and loved without losing something in the masses.

Maybe its because I tend to be a detail sort of person, and like to get to know each detail well. Too much makes it hard to do that, and I get overwhelmed and frustrated.

I have been struggling with a lot of things lately, but one of them is school. Ever since my summer off (ok, it was way before then...but we will say thats when it started) its been difficult to find the groove of studying again. Finally this week I feel like I've had a breakthrough and have made progress in three areas. The first area, the one I felt most encouraged about, was math. A good and patient friend sat down with me on Saturday and helped me conquer some real problems. Hooray for people who actually understand math! Math feels like mind games to me. Hopefully not too much longer until I will be finished with this! The second area was the current examination I am preparing for. I finally took a practice test and found I am not too far from being ready! After nearly a month, its about time. And then there's Spanish, which fills my heart with delight. I'm still throwing Spanish out there randomly to poor folks who do not understand, but smile politely anyway.

Which leads me to another random thought of the day. Last night, during a late night run to Burger King (I know, I know, I didn't choose the location, okay?) I noticed two Latino families eating dinner together. It was all I could do to contain myself and not go over and start talking like some gringa loca. I had to keep reminding myself that they didn't know me, and would probably NOT be as excited to talk to me as I was to talk to them. I did do a bit of eavesdropping just to enjoy the music of their language.

And that reminds me...its now been two months since I returned home from South America, and the culture shock is just beginning to wear off. I still have moments when I look around and suddenly wonder why there are so many gringos, or moments when I start speaking Spanish randomly, or moments when all the stuff we have and the way we live just overwhelms me. I wonder what it'd be like if I had lived there longer...And in one way I don't want it to ever wear off.

Anyway, just a collection of thoughts bouncing around my head and off my fingertips.

Accepting The Gift

Sunday I attended a large church service to celebrate and welcome a new bishop in our conference of United Methodist churches. It was a beautiful service, full of meaning and symbols, full of worshipful beauty. The pentacle of the service came towards the end, when we were celebrating holy communion together. All I remember is the beautiful music, of voice and organ. It was music that lifted higher as it went on, voices raised upward toward the One they were worshiping. They worshiped with excellence and thoughtfulness.

The music lead us toward the front, and we walked quietly, taking it slowly and holding our hands in readiness to receive the gift of Christ's body and blood. I remember the line of people ahead of me, each eager to be there, looking for a place, and all with hands held out, palms open to receive what God has offered. There is a beauty in that symbolism, if anyone takes a moment to recognize it. Christ was a gift to us, a gift beyond comprehension. And we can receive that gift, as if we deserved it. We offer our hands, out stretched and palms upward to accept the gift offered, to feel the bread given, a symbol of Christ's body. To accept the bread and dip it in the cup that represents Christ's blood.

I saw it all in a flash, a moment in time as I stood in line to receive my gift. My gift of redemption, my gift of freedom from the sin that causes me such heartache. My gift of a relationship with Christ. My gift of experiencing the kingdom of God here and now. My gift of grace.

And everyone, together, received this gift.We did not pluck it from the hands of the giver. We did not grasp it and take it from His hands by force.

We waited until it was placed there. We waited until it was given. Just as there were thousands of years between the promise to Abraham, and the fulfillment of Jesus, we waited, time suspended until the gift was given, and we accepted it and it entered us and Christ entered us, and we tasted the ground wheat and the crushed grapes.

That was the pentacle of the service Sunday. That we accepted the gift given to us. The gift of Christ is accepted every time we accept communion. We experience the grace of Christ's love and power every time we accept communion.

Beautiful.

Let us accept the gift always.

This Is Mine!

Today I was listening to some music and started imagining God saying about me, "this is mine!" It kind of makes me stop and think, that God would claim me.

I know I am not that terrific. I am mean all the time. And I have the worst ugliness in my heart. And I have problems.

But even with all that, with being so ugly and unlovable, God still would say about me, me! that He claims me as His. That He would even go so far as to say, "this one is mine!"

Amazing to think the God of the universe, the God who made the earth, and has so much more on His mind would take the time to even recognize this minute bit of existence, this piece of humanity. The me that I am, and take pleasure in knowing me. Take pleasure in who I am.

I need someone to take pleasure in me. To accept who I am with all the mistakes and sins. To claim me.
I am grateful I know the One who does.

Only Jesus!

Father of grace, You’ve sacrificed
Your only Son for us, the crucified Jesus
Enlarge our hearts to love Your Son
O grant to us the grace to walk with Him always
To make Him our great delight 
Bringing worship with our lives 

Only Jesus! Only Jesus! 
Give us Jesus, we cry
Only Jesus! Only Jesus!
The Pearl of greatest price

Spirit of grace, You’ve shed Your light
Upon our darkened eyes, unveiling Jesus Christ
Come change our hearts, conform our ways
To honor Jesus’ Name, His glory our refrain
Let His love compel our own
As we worship at His throne

Jesus, our great Savior,
Lord of heaven, Son of God


By Doug Plank "Only Jesus", Valley of Vision. 

Lifted Out Of The Depths

I will exalt you, O Lord, for you lifted me out of the depths and did not let my enemies gloat over me.

O Lord my God, I called to you for help and you healed me.

O Lord, you brought me up from the grave, you spared me from going down into the pit.

Sing to the Lord, you saints of his; praise his holy name.
For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.
When I felt secure, I said, "I will never be shaken."
O Lord, when you favored me, you made my mountain stand firm; but when you hid your face, I was dismayed.
To you, O Lord, I called; to the Lord I cried for mercy:
What gain is there in my destruction, in my going down into the pit? Will the dust praise you? Will it proclaim your faithfulness?
Hear, O Lord, and be merciful to me; O Lord, be my help."

You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing to you and not be silent.

O Lord my God, I will give you thanks forever.

Psalm 30

Unworthy Servants

Luke 17: 7-10
"Will any one of you who has a servant plowing or keeping sheep say to him when he has come in from the field, 'Come at once and recline at table'? Will he not rather say to him, 'Prepare supper for me, and dress properly, and serve me while I eat and drink, and afterward you will eat and drink'? Does he thank the servant because he did what was commanded? So you also when you have done all that you were commanded, say, 'We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty.'"

I read this verse this week and was struck by it. I don't recall reading it before, but it really made me think of the myriad of things I do, expecting to be thanked. Things that are really just in the line of duty. Things that God just expects of me.

Loving my neighbor, serving others, training my heart toward peacefulness and upright godliness are expected things as the servant of God. And yet, these things are sometimes what I'm looking to be thanked for, or looking for pats on the back for accomplishing. In reality, they are things expected of a follower of Christ. In reality, they are part of the character, part of the role of a servant of God.

Sometimes, I think when I do something for God, I expect Him to be smiling and pleased with me, when I should be just thinking about it as being in the line of duty. At work, my boss does not thank me for accomplishing certain tasks. Sometimes those tasks are tedious or difficult to accomplish, but it is expected I do them, and do them well. I do not get extra thanks for them. It's my job to make sure the tasks are finished.

Doing hard things in my life, holding myself to a high standard, and keeping my heart loving and open to God's leading is what is expected of a Christ follower. I should not expect anything from these things, other than knowing that this is how it's supposed to work, how it's supposed to be in the kingdom of God. After all, I am God's unworthy servant, undeserving of anything. His love is what has redeemed me, His forgiveness has made me whole.

Something I've been mulling over this week.

Thoughts

It's an afternoon of reflection.

Quiet, peaceful. Sun playing through the shady leaves of the trees out my window. Music soft in the background.

And thoughts bubble up. Up and out of the deeps of my heart and mind. It's like a fountain, or a spring of fresh water. Deep down thoughts begin to form and eventually they bubble up and out burbling like a spring, flowing out and eventually reaching the blog.

I sit and stare at the words, or gaze out the window as I type, thoughts becoming real under my fingers, thoughts taking form before my eyes.

Thoughts are sometimes to be pondered in the heart. Thoughts are sometimes to be kept quiet and thought about when washing dishes, or mowing the lawn, or when busy doing other mundane tasks that fill up the day. Thought about and pondered softly in the soul. And never shared, never spoken. Just thought and felt.

Thoughts are sometimes to be shared. They deserve to be written about and talked about and given life by giving them language and form. They bubble out to others who can in turn think and ponder and share.

I wonder how many of our thoughts are not really ours, but given by the Holy Spirit. Whispered in our ears at night as we sleep, in our hearts as we ponder, the scarlet thread of thought weaving in and out of our existence and minds. Scarlet threads of thought from God.

It's funny how you can share a thought without exchanging a single word. It's funny how you can share a feeling and idea and not even speak.

And it's funny how you can talk using a barrage of words and never get the thought across, never communicate the idea. Emptiness filling up the space with noise.

I wonder about my thoughts sometimes. Are they really empty? Are they really fluffy? Perhaps nothing wonderful, but they are mine. Some of them are here, bubbling out. Many many more are quiet in my heart. They will not be shared here. They are just for me. And perhaps others.

It's easy for thoughts to get out of control and start going in a direction far far away, far away from righteousness and truth. Thoughts that bring darkness and hell to haunt our minds and dreams. It takes self control to bring them back to the thoughts of Light and truth and God. Thoughts of beauty, loveliness, goodness and virtue.

I don't want darkness to exist in my mind, in my thoughts. I want sparkling light, and colorful beauty.

Almighty God, to whom all hearts are open, all desires known, and from whom no secrets are hid: Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of Thy Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love Thee, and worthily magnify Thy holy Name: through Christ our Lord. Amen.

The Birds Sing The Glad Message

The birds were singing this morning when I awoke. It made me think of that morning, so long ago when the women awake early, hurriedly dressed, and went to the tomb. They had no one to open it for them, but they were determined to try.
I imagined the birds singing, the air cool as they walked the hills to the tomb. Perhaps the first rays of sunshine were peeking up over the horizon.
The women reached the tomb, expecting death and silence, the stench of disappointed hopes greeting them. Instead they found an angel messenger who gave them such great news that they could barely understand or believe it, and then when it saturated their minds and hearts they dropped everything and ran back to share the good news!
And Mary was the first to see the risen Lord. Can you imagine? Can you imagine being at the cross and seeing the horror of the inflicted death, watching all the blood pouring out, being absolutely sure that He is dead, and then three days later encountering the one you loved most in the garden where He was supposed to be buried?

Gives us a little peek into what it must have been like for Mary.

The grand message of today, sung by the birds at dawn, shouted by the rays of sunshine, and echoed through the world every year since is this:

He is risen! He is risen! HE is risen indeed, Alleluia!

Day of Darkness

Today is the day of darkness. The day of silence. The day of complete devastation. Today is Saturday, and Jesus is in the tomb.

He wasn't supposed to be in the tomb! He was supposed to be the King, the Jewish King who was going to send the Romans packing out of Israel. He was supposed to set His disciples up as rulers one on the right and one on the left, and others to be in command. He was supposed to be there to heal the sick, the blind, the lame as before. He was supposed to be the bright star on the political horizon and the hope of all who were oppressed by the political unrest going on. But where was He?

Dead.

In a tomb.

The disciples must have been stunned, dismayed, bewildered, lost. It is a day of darkness. They've just spent all their time for the last 3 years following Jesus around, listening to Him, eating with Him, and yes, even having some of the glory of Jesus' fame shining on them. But now that is a glory that could have them killed, too.

The glory of following Jesus could have us killed, too. Being a disciple of Christ is not an easy task that if you say some magic words will give you hope of an afterlife in a golden city someplace. Following Jesus is dealing with the sick, the blind, the lame. And there are many many forms of sickness, blindness, and lameness. It is taking up our cross and following Him, through the mire, blood, and tears.

It's a dark day today. Our hope, our Savior is dead. It is silent, with only the grave to speak to us.

And what will happen tomorrow?