Tuesday Grace Letter:6
April 29, 2014
Kara, the writer behind the Mundane Faithfulness blog, has invited other bloggers to participate in a practice of grace- writing letters every week, each letter with its own focus. I do not know Kara. We live in the same city and some of my friends and family know her, but I have only followed her story in bits and pieces as others have posted her blog posts to their Facebook pages. Kara’s story is heart-rending and powerful and in the midst of her own suffering, she gives people a glimpse of Christ in her, the hope of glory. Today’s assignment is to write a on the graces that surround me daily.
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He stirs and his little movement wakes me. My phone says 3:30 am. I lay my hand on his three-year-old back and help him settle again. Within moments his breathing lengthens and he is again asleep, curled up near me, his hair finding its way into my mouth so I have to move. Little Boy sleeps with us right now. It seems to be a phase, and we have chosen to always show hospitality to this walking miracle, so he stretches between us, secure and safe from anything that might make his imaginative mind wake in fear.
It’s Tuesday morning. The end of April looms and the neighbor’s flowering tree is covered with deep pink blossoms, warning of the heat to come in only a matter of weeks when we will pull out shorts and tank tops and go around in flip-flops.
In the quiet of the early morning, the crack between my bedroom curtains is still dark but with the slight purple touches of a coming sun. I wonder for a moment if I will be awake now for the day or if I will be given the grace for more sleep.
The next time I wake is when Husband is pulling Little Boy out of bed, breakfast on the table and ready to take him to school. They shut the door behind them and let me doze. After several nights of the child’s bad dreams and my own churning mind, this gift is received with happiness.
It’s 8:30 before I open my eyes again.
When the Lies Come Calling
April 28, 2014
Back in late January, I had just returned from a conference for pastors that happens every winter. It had been an interested trip. I don’t experience many things the same way I used to, so each of these conferences, each of my meetings, each of my interactions are markedly different for me than they were years ago. They each require much more reflection for me to work through with God all that he is speaking to me in this new way of encountering things. This is good, but sometimes very hard.
All in all, this particular trip was good. I have learned to go to these things with low expectations and few plans. God has been good at guiding each step, each conversation, each interaction that happens often without any preparation or warning. They have truly become opportunities to walk close to Jesus among my peers and simply trust that he will have me bump into the people and spaces I need to see. It is not always easy as I want to have everything planned out and prepared for, but it is much more fulfilling when I let myself be weak to those desires and find his strength in them.
But one pattern I have noticed in my life, (and perhaps it is true for you too, dear reader) is that often when I have had these moments, these days, these encounters with walking along the side of my Jesus, immediately afterward I experience something that seeks to shove me off-center. Typically immediately after trying to be open to God’s leading, I find myself faced with the voice of the Liar, the Enemy, the one who tries to destroy any semblance of divine peace I have been gracious given by God along away.
The Limp
April 25, 2014
I walk with a slight limp. Last year I snapped a major tendon in my calf, which then led to a second injury- this time to my knee- which will one day give me an ultimatum: “It’s surgery or walking- pick one!” Because of these injuries, I move with a slight limp. It’s not noticeable to everyone and some days it is worse than others. In fact, I can sometimes even disguise my limp for a period of time, working hard to not show a gait that is somewhat off. But eventually it shows, especially going up and down the stairs. Compensation only takes you so far. So I walk with a slight limp.
Recently I led a group discussion on the life of Jacob from the Scripture. This sneaky, stealing, deceiving person who before he was born held the blessing of God. Clearly God’s blessing is not attached to our behavior or Jacob would have been lost not so long after he was born. The word the group I was leading came up with was, “swarmy.” Jacob was swarmy. And he was. Kinda a class A jerk. It is ironic that for years this swarminess goes on, even as Jacob’s life is punctuated by God’s clear favor and blessing despite it all. Then near the end of his saga in Genesis, we find him at the river’s edge, alone, at night. He was preparing to meet his brother- one of the people he had cheated. One of the folks who wanted Jacob dead. It has been over 20 years since he had last seen his brother and the Scripture makes clear that Jacob’s a little nervous about the whole encounter.
Tuesday Grace Letter:5
April 22, 2014
Kara, the writer behind the Mundane Faithfulness blog, has invited other bloggers to participate in a practice of grace- writing letters every week, each letter with its own focus. I do not know Kara. We live in the same city and some of my friends and family know her, but I have only followed her story in bits and pieces as others have posted her blog posts to their Facebook pages. Kara’s story is heart-rending and powerful and in the midst of her own suffering, she gives people a glimpse of Christ in her, the hope of glory. Today’s assignment is to write a letter of grace about Resurrection.
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Dear Resurrection,
One of my favorite authors is a farmer named Wendell Berry. A prolific writer, he spans several genres of work, from essays on politics and society, to poetry, to fiction. Much of what he writes speaks a deep truth about things and while not explicitly about the Church, has vast implications for Christians.
The very first time I met Wendell was through one of his well-known poems called Manifesto: The Mad Farmer’s Liberation Front. Here is an excerpt from that poem:
So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it…
…Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn’t go. Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.
Choosing Joy
April 12, 2014
She was beautiful and outgoing, already well established with friendships at the seminary. I was introverted and introspective, new to the city and new to the seminary. I don’t remember how many weeks into our very first semester it took, but one day, as we both worked for our professors in the copy room, it happened. We became friends. And soon, once a week or so, we would spend a couple hours over cinnamon rolls and coffee, hearing each other’s stories and sharing each other’s dreams.
I was always struck by how different we were. Me with my more brooding reflection, she with her sunny and bubbling personality. And yet we somehow made it work. But the thing that was most lasting about that friendship was the way in which her face glowed, her eyes twinkled, she smiled almost all the time. For awhile I just thought she was a happy person. But in time I learned that instead this characteristic stemmed from a place deep within her. It was more than just happy. It was joy. Real joy. Read the rest of this entry »
ordinary sacred 