Love puts up
{Yesterday my man and I celebrated 12 years of marriage. Hooray! We enjoyed a simple day with some of our favorite people and reflected on God’s faithfulness to us over the past dozen years. I was reminded of this …}
“Love … puts up.”
-1 Corinthians 13
I flipped open the laptop–there on the keyboard lay the photo.
I shook my head and smiled, a little surprised at the emotion welling up in my eyes. It’s been 12 years of passing that thing back and forth, sneaking it into unexpected places for the other to find. Both book lovers, we had perused the small used book store at the beach as newlyweds, sorting through dusty titles, searching for some hidden literary gem. I don’t remember what we bought, but when we got it home, tucked within the pages was this polaroid picture.
Now it’s been tucked into places more times than I can count. It’s spoken a thousand words. We’ve tucked it in at times to say, “I’m sorry.” At times it means, “Just thinking of you.” And at times it means so much more. But whenever I see this photo it’s like another stitch, like pulling that thread taut and tugging so slightly, so all the stitches tighten. This picture reminds me of all the stitches over the years and pulls them tighter together.
And now, you’re away. This afternoon you drove off, and Heidi waved her little arm until we couldn’t see you anymore, and I felt silly for feeling so sad. It’s only a week, after all. But suddenly I remembered yesterday, how I had sighed (the classic victim-SAHM sigh) as I sorted through your middle pile. How I eyed you accusingly when you shelled pistachios right after I’d cleaned the counters. How I only half-listened this morning when you shared your idea with me. (How could I forget how much courage it takes to speak dreams out loud?) I remembered how you let me eat your french fries today and how you met us for a picnic when I’m sure you had more pressing things to do. And I remembered how you worked all afternoon fixing the lawn mower, and surprised me with Peet’s coffee for my trip this weekend. Then I remembered how I gave you the stink eye when you ate the last of the caramel corn.
How I left today without even doing your laundry. And how you said no big deal and cheerfully dug through the dirty clothes to find enough socks to wash and take on your trip.
Why do I love so pathetically?
I stared off, sad for all the ways I haven’t loved you more. But then, this picture somehow centered me. It always does.
Because you put it there and it tells me, all over again, that love covers a multitude of sins.
It is us, in so many ways. The faux wood panelling is hideous, of course, and I love it. The artwork is off-centered, and not in an artistic way. The purple and red pillows are delightfully strange, but the faces are the best.
He is Just. So. Happy.
His hand is on her thigh, his tie is huge, and he’s just grinning from ear to ear.
She, well, she’s half-smiling, but really thinking of what to make for dinner.
I am this woman, except I have better hair.
She’s putting up with the picture-taking (and him?) even though she’d rather be checking some ridiculous item off her list.
He’s just happy with his hand on her leg. The End.
He puts up with her half-smile just as she puts up with his beam.
And that’s the beauty of it: Love puts up.
Because not all romance is wild passion all the time. Because I put up with your stuff and you put up with mine. And because even though this couple isn’t running barefoot down a beach, their love is compelling to me. Because that’s just it: Love puts up. Because at different times last week each of us wanted to pack up and quit this ministry life. And both times the other one of us simply put up. Listened. Waited. Stayed quiet. Prayed. And both times we came around.
Because real love is so different than it is on TV. So much better. Because even the “putting up” part is good. It’s the time walking together in the valleys.
It’s the spaces in between the milestones, where you just keep holding hands and holding on.
Kind of like this:
Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.
Love doesn’t strut,
Doesn’t have a swelled head,
Doesn’t force itself on others,
Isn’t always “me first,”
Doesn’t fly off the handle,
Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn’t revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end. (1 Corinthians 13:3-7 MSG)
Thanks for putting up with me, my love. I really am sorry about the laundry.
{Thanks, all, for reading.}
*Originally shared April 2013.
The only way to make summer last…
{After being away for five days, we were barely through our back gate when the kids broke into a run, straight across the yard to the far side … straight to the raspberry bushes. I grinned, leaving all the bags behind to join them plucking perfectly pink berries, savoring the sweetness, hunting after another, another, another. I had been away from them, and from home, and had been blessedly surrounded with incredible people who taught me once again to be present, to soak up life and love and give others the gift of me all here. And I remembered this from a few years ago: The gift of the raspberries, the gift of summer, the gift of soaking up the sacredness of now.}
It was the raspberries that helped me understand.
The raspberries I rescued. This spring, I took on the back-breaking project of tearing out waist-high weeds from our side-yard. And there I unearthed raspberry bushes (raspberries!) and you’d have thought I’d struck gold by the way I happy-danced. I carefully plucked the weeds around them, and Dad and I strung them up, training the canes.
Then we waited.
And almost as if in response, as their own way of saying thank you!, they handed us their treasures in return. Large, plump, dark pinkish-red, firm in your fingers as you pluck them off the hull and plop them into your mouth. None of them have made it inside the house. (This is new for me.) I’ve never frozen one or turned it into jam. I’ve never eating one sitting down, only standing, savoring, their sweetness bursting and urging you on to search for more. No matter how many times you think you found the last one, you can always find one more, perfectly ripe and hiding behind a leaf. As I stood doing the dinner dishes last night I watched the kids picking their dessert, searching under branches and crawling around for just one more.
Pluck, eat. Pluck, eat. Pluck, eat. None of theirs made it into the house either.
See: I’ve always thought the way to make summer last was by harvesting LOTS and saving it up for winter. If you know me a little bit, you know I am a freeze-er. We aim for 50 lbs. of strawberries, 100 of peaches, 50 of blueberries, and whatever else we can stuff in our back-porch freezer. All winter long our grocery budget rests easy and our immune system smiles as we blend our fruit smoothies every day. And while I’ll continue to do this, the question must be asked:
Is summer preserved by simply freezing fruit?
Can a season be lengthened by canning up its produce?
Is the the joy of summer a commodity, able to be packaged up and opened later on?
I guess the question is really more like this, How do we get the most out of a day? Out of a season? How do we really make summer last?
And while I will still enjoy sliding dozens of fruit-packed ziplocks into my freezer, I think the real answer is this:
We make summer last by diving deep into every moment.
By eating raspberries standing up.
By saying, Yes! I’ll run up and down the side-walk one more time, holding the back of your bike while you lean and totter and fall and try again. I’ll run up and down, my thighs burning and I covered in sweat. And after awhile I won’t even notice because I’m watching your face and it’s light and your eyes are dancing and mouth wide-open laughing, shouting “I’m doing it Mommy! I’m really doing it!”
By saying, Yes! Let’s plant these seeds and Ooops, you dropped them all on the ground, but that’s ok let’s laugh and pick them up and poke them down deep into soil. And you let the dark dirt under your fingernails and you brush your hands off on your jeans and finish with ice-cold lemonade, and every day you watch for those little green shoots. And you watch her as she watches. You study her face. Her lashes, curls, lips. You go slow enough to memorize the moment–her looking for life and you finding it.
By saying, Yes! I’ll run through the sprinkler with you although I’d rather read my book, because your laugh is liquid, and you screaming, splashing, jumping is better than anything on any page. And how many days do I have to do this? Yes, let’s do it again.
Because I am a hopeless plan-ahead-er, and my brain works only in future-tense, and I’m counting down the days of strawberry season and trying to plan enough picking days and I want to harvest all I can from those fields …
but more than that I want to harvest all I can from these days.
This life. These long days in these short years. (These little years will be gone five minutes from now.)
And so today, on the first day of summer, I adjust my goal from “storing up” to “entering in,” from “saving” to “savoring.”
From reading so many pages to reading just a few faces.
My summer resolution: I will eat more fruit standing up.
{Happy summer! Let’s make it last … Thanks for reading.}
Don’t Budge!
Like many women, flexibility is my strong suite. I’ve always thought the ability to “make due” should be listed in 1 Corinthians 12, because I’m fairly certain it’s my primary spiritual gift! Whether it’s concocting a dinner from the three random ingredients we have on hand, or tacking up two-dozen nails to hang cooking utensils on the kitchen wall that didn’t have drawers, or putting two armed chairs together as a makeshift bed for our toddler, I thrive on the challenge of creatively adjusting to changing circumstances.
And yet.
I’ve sometimes wondered if we can take the flexibility fixation a little too far. Is it possible, as a follower of Christ, to be too flexible?
I recently re-read a familiar verse that struck me in a new way:
“Therefore, beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your labor is not in vain.” (2 Cor. 15:58)
Paul says to be immovable.
As in, Don’t budge.
It was in light of this that I considered my weekly day of fasting and seeking God in prayer. Usually, I’m just “flexible” *smile* with my day, and take it as it comes. This time, I structured my time in order to make sure I was really spending time in prayer and seeking Him. Though I was with and attentive to my kids all day, I scheduled one hour, from 1-2pm, for focused, uninterrupted prayer.
The time came. I had just hung all our laundry out to dry on the line outside. The kids were happily playing in the yard. I sat down. Ahh…yes. I began praying.
At 1:09pm, I heard the sound. Rain. Seriously?! It’s been sunny all day, and I sit down to pray while my laundry dries and now it’s raining! I began to lift myself from the couch, but the phrase ran again through my mind:
Be immovable…
Immovable.
Don’t budge.
I knew then that this moment was a picture of my life. So often, I make commitments to spiritual growth, but the slightest distraction keeps me from following through. And while it might only take ten minutes to take down all the laundry and bring it inside, chances are then my kids will begin interacting with them, then when I’m downstairs I’ll see our housemates and start to chat, then I’ll make myself a cup of tea—I could see so clearly how easily I drift from discipline. How simple it is to be sidetracked.
So I stayed. Immovable. I kept praying. The rain began coming down harder. I looked up at the skylight above my head. Fat droplets rolled down the glass. I closed my eyes, shut it out, kept praying. The rain came harder. I knew I had to stay. This was my hour to pray and somehow I knew, I had to press through. My kids came upstairs, rained out of their outside play. And though they were being kind and respectful, in our small, old house I could hear every word, every noise.
Like little hooks, each sound snagged my thoughts and pulled it away from prayer.
So I stuck my fingers in my ears.
Yes, I did. I sat on the couch, for an hour, praying with my fingers in my ears, while the kids played at my feet and the rain poured on the laundry outside.
At some point I heard Jeff come in from his office and yell upstairs, “Kari?? Do you want me to bring the laundry in?!”
I smiled to myself—he must have thought I was crazy. “Yes, please! Thank you, babe!” I said in a cheerful voice, without moving. I happened to be in the Thanksgiving portion of my prayer time, and my next words were, “Thank you God for Jeff getting the laundry! And thank you for a husband who serves me and trusts me even when I appear to be crazy!” (He later crept up and snuck this picture of the scene. Ha!)
I kept praying. And at the very end of an hour, it was so worth it. I heard from God, been amazed at truths in His Word, was able to intercede mightily for many real needs in our life, and saw the power of being immovable.
Sometimes the greatest strength is exerted by not moving a muscle. Sometimes staying power is the greatest power of all.
Stay steadfast, friends, immovable: Don’t budge.
{Thanks for reading.}
Finding a rhythm of rest {7 ways}
The kids recited, swaying their little bodies with the beat:
ONE, no gods before me!
TWO, no idols!
THREE, don’t take God’s name in vain!
FOUR, remember the Sabbath…
I smiled, thinking:
What exactly does it mean to remember the Sabbath?
A few quick thoughts:
- Originally the Sabbath was Saturday (the 7th day).
- Jesus rose on a Sunday (1st day of the week).
- The early New Testament church gathered on a Sundays, which was a work day. (Presumably they did this after work.)
- Traditionally in America we have observed Sunday as a sort of Christian-Sabbath, when businesses closed and attending church was the respectable thing to do.
And so we have this mix of Saturday and Sunday and worship and rest and strong opinions about businesses being open or closed. We think everyone should observe Sunday as a rest day … except for pastors and mothers (smile).
So what do we do? Thankfully, since Jesus doesn’t make a hard and fast rule, we don’t have to either. He said Sabbath was created for man, not man for the Sabbath (Mark 2:27). The idea of resting one day a week is for our good! Paul makes it clear we’re not to judge (or let others judge us) with regards to Sabbath days (Col 2:16). But it is still one of the ten commandments, so we’re wise not to ignore it, yet also not to be legalistic about it. Jesus fulfilled the law and we enter in to His rest by faith. We’re wise to reflect this gospel-rest by physically observing rest.
We’re wise to live within a rhythm of rest. For us this means Sunday mornings are spent worshipping God and serving His people, and Sunday afternoons are purely restful, playful, relaxing. No electronics or projects or shopping. Books, naps, runs (Jeff thinks running is restful–go figure!), and lots of imagination. This means we carve out another night of the week for Family Night, a restful, playful, fun time to connect in intentional ways.
Again, this isn’t about rules. Usually, if we follow the 1st commandment, the 4th commandment will work itself out.
Here’s what I mean: Usually the reason we don’t rest is because something is tweaked with the first commandment. Something’s up there next to God. And whatever it is (pride, people-pleasing, ambition) it is driving us on and away from a peaceful rhythm of rest. It’s pushing us to a frantic pace and leaving us with a vague guilty feeling that we “should” be doing more. When our first aim and highest goal is ensuring that Jesus Christ is on the ONE and only throne of our life, then He can call the shots and order our days. All of our days, not just the one where we rest.
Here are a few ideas to practice establishing a rhythm of rest for your family (Quotes from Richard Swenson’s book, Margin–excellent read!)
- Turn off all electronic mediums, just for one day.
- Practice Simplicity and Contentment: Richard Swenson says, “With fewer possessions, we do not have as many things to take care of. With a simpler wardrobe, our choice of what to wear each morning becomes less time-consuming. With a smaller estate, there will be less debt bondage to our work schedule. Everything we own owns us. We must maintain it, paint it, play with it, build space in our house to put it, and then work to pay it off. Perhaps if we had fewer things we might have more time… the amount of genuine leisure available in a society is generally in inverse proportion to the amount of labor-saving machinery it employs.” We don’t need more “time-saving” devices! 🙂
- Be Unavailable. We must have margin and boundaries. Create some.
- Think Long-Term. Consider the Tyrrany of the Urgent. It drains us of energy, time, and resources. Think long term and plan your life thoughtfully, according to long term plans. Yes, chaos happens. But a clear long-term focus helps us make clearer, wiser decisions in the midst.
- Get Less Done but do the Right Things. “All activities need to be assessed as to their spiritual authenticity…we must have God-centered criteria with which to judge all activities … our modern view of time is to compress it and milk it for every nanosecond of productivity we can get.” I always remind myself, God will allot me time for all the activities which He has ordained for me to do. Productivity is not the goal–fruitfulness is. Consider and perhaps cut back.
- Be available. Pastor Bruce Larson says, “It is possible that the most important things God has for me on any given day is not even on my agenda.” Have I created enough of a margin, white space, in my life, that when Divine interruptions come I am able to embrace them as God’s scheduled work for me?
- Give your kids what they really want: Your time. The best gift you can give your kids is time. Many families schedule their lives FULL of activities for the kids–classes, lessons, parties, trips, vacations, but what the kids really want is for parents to sit down, get out the Legos and just play. Or read. Or talk. Or have a tea-party. Kids just want our time, unhurried, with no agenda. I really believe that kids in America are absolutely starving for unstructured time with their parents. And yet it’s so hard, as parents, to lay aside the busyness and the “to dos” and sit with our kids in the grass and watch bugs. To play dress-up and enter-in to their world. Lord help me do more of that.
{Time to go play… Thanks for reading.}
*Originally shared July 8, 2013.
When you’re lonely, there inside your head.
This week I witnessed an extraordinary example of community, the power of sisters gathering–in honesty, humility, confession, accountability, and prayer. It reminded me of this from a few years ago, when I was so lonely here inside my head. May you take that first scary step toward vulnerability and transparency, and may you discover again the power of together.
~
It’s lonely here, inside my head.
Every thought just echoes in the emptiness, returning back to me over and over again. Except, unlike an echo, the reverberations keep getting louder and louder, instead of fading away.
What started it? Maybe social media. Photos of everyone else having fun (without me), and feeling left out. The random interaction that mysteriously threw me for a loop. Or a comment from a friend, not meant to hurt, that hurt nonetheless. Or measuring my worth by some impossible scale. Or some public mishap with the children. It’s all clear evidence which seals the verdict:
Guilty of first degree failure.
They say women are complicated. We must be, because sometimes I don’t even know what’s wrong as a tear slides down my cheek.
But I know it’s lonely in my head when I’m the only one talking.
And there’s no one in there to interrupt those echoes. Those accusations and hopeless lines and blanket statements. A few of us are fortunate enough to have close–really close–friends who we can call or text, a few words shared can sometimes ease the load immensely.
If we let someone else into our head it’s not so lonely anymore.
The echoes stop.
It’s as simple as a text. A one-line email. A 30-second call:
“I’m getting beat down. Will you pray?”
That’s all. Nine times out of ten the reason I don’t reach out is that a) I don’t know exactly what’s bothering me and b) I don’t really want to talk about it. I hate hashing things out because I’m not a verbal processor (but that’s great if you are!).
A one-line call for help says:
I don’t need to talk about it. I just want you to know about it.
And as great as that one-line call for help is, it works best on conjunction with another one-line call:
The one that goes straight to Jesus.
“I’m getting beat down. Will you pray?”
And He ever lives to make intercession for us.
Consequently, he is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God through him, since he always lives to make intercession for them. (Heb. 7:25)
Not just in the past. Right now:
“Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died–more than that, who was raised–who is is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us.” (Rom. 8:34)
In an instant He can silence the echoes. He can fill the emptiness. He can take away the loneliness, there inside your head.
{Do you need to text these 7 words to someone today? “I’m getting beat down. Will you pray?” Or write them here, in the comments, and it would be my joy to pray for you today. Thank you so much for reading.}
Polish the Silver {How to get it right}
I woke up early that morning (it was my birthday) and sneaked downstairs.
I was turning six and so excited for my tea party that day. Mom was still sleeping; she had been working hard to prepare for my party, and I wanted to do something special to help her. I looked up onto the high counter and saw the antique sterling silver tea set. That was it! I knew that one of the things she needed to do that morning was polish the silver–I could surprise her and do it for her! Yes, that was the perfect idea.
Now, Where’s the polish?
I vaguely remembered there being polish in the laundry room, so I dug around a little until I found it. It was thick and white, and oozed out of a special spongy tip on one end.
I set to work with all my heart. Rubbing carefully, I covered every surface of the sterling silver set. It was very white and very pasty. Hmm… It definitely looked different from what I’d imagined, but I was glad that I’d finished the job completely before mom woke up.
Just then she came in.
“Oh my!” she said. Her eyes were so big. (She was so surprised!) She smiled wide, really really wide, as she looked at the silver and at me.
“I polished the silver for you Mommy!” She looked at me with so much love in her eyes and this huge smile, I could tell she was so incredibly blessed by my hard work for her.
“Thank you,” she said, and meant it. “Thank you so much. Can I take a picture of you there with the silver?”
I beamed, and sat beside the white chalky silver for a photo.
Then she came next to me: “Now, shall we make it a little less white? We can work on it together.” Together we did a little more work, rinsing off all the white stuff, and wiping the silver clean. Then, still smiling, she pulled out another container from a tall shelf in the kitchen.
“This is the silver polish. Let’s use this one on the silver; ok? We can do it together.” I beamed, still so happy because she was so happy. I knew she was pleased.
It wasn’t until much later that I understood what all took place, when I looked back at the photo in an album and saw the caption:
“Kari loves to help. She polished the silver for me with shoe polish. :)”
Shoe polish.
Here’s what I love: When I think back on that memory, there is only joy. Sure, in a very real sense I did it wrong. I polished silver with shoe polish. But I don’t remember any shame. No anger, or irritation, or annoyance. I wasn’t belittled.
My mom saw my heart, and in my heart: I got it right.
Last week was a busy one for me, and one morning I came downstairs and discovered that Heidi had wanted to bless me. So she was unloading the dishwasher. She was doing the utensils, but since the counters are so high she was sorting out all the clean silverware … on the floor.
“Mommy! I’m helping you!” She beamed.
“Oh!”I smiled, a wide, wide smile. “Thank you. Thank you so much,” I said, and meant it. And while she wasn’t looking (she’s a photo-phobe), I snapped a pic because someday I want her to know that even when she got it wrong, her mama knew she got it right.
Oh friend, how often I have feared stepping out in faith to serve my God, because I was so afraid I wouldn’t get it right? How often I have feared the failure, or the looking foolish. But there is so much grace and freedom in the Kingdom. Our Father sees our hearts, when we earnestly and honestly work to love and serve Him from a heart of humble childlike faith.
Even when we get it wrong, He sees we got it right.
{May this freedom rule your hearts this week. Polish the silver! With love…thanks for reading.}
PS Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. Thank you.
When you feel like you live on a treadmill…
Exhausted, I stare down into the sink. It’s clogged. Has been for several weeks. When it does slowly drain it leaves a dark grimy film, and no matter how many times I scour it, the grime returns every time it’s clogged again.
(Which is daily.)
I stare at the water; it isn’t going anywhere. I look up into the mirror, my face red from exertion, hair soaked with sweat. I just got off the treadmill.
The absurdity of it strikes me: I’m exhausted from running nowhere.
In so many ways.
Tears sting my eyes as my reflection blurs sideways. I had thought about it while running, had thought about how ridiculous it was to run, all alone, for forty minutes and not get anywhere.
Why God?
Why am I getting nowhere?
Everyday I get up. You do too. Everyday we obey God in the mundane details of life behind the scenes. We wipe counters, noses, and bottoms. We believe. We listen, labor, love, often alone. We wash, work, worship. And then we wake up the next morning and do it all again.
Kinda sounds like a treadmill to me.
I poured this out to Him as I ran, one foot in front of the other, scenery never changing. The only thing ahead of me was a wall.
That’s how my days feel sometimes as well.
My exercise is in obedience to God. I’m obeying Him with my body. He clearly called me to this, so I obey. Get up each morning. Get on my knees. Pray. Believe. Spread out His Word. Ask. Seek. Trust. Lace up the shoes. Run the miles. Write the words. Raise the kids.
Repeat.
Sometimes the scenery never changes.
Then why run it?
I ask Him this, these exact words, while pounding out the steps, keeping pace with prayer. His still small voice:
“Because you’re training.”
Tears on the treadmill.
Yes. Of course. He’s training me. He’s training you. These long days where the scenery never changes. These long days of believing Him for things we cannot see. These long days putting one foot in front of the other. These long days with nothing ahead but a wall. These long days alone. When we’re sweating and exhausted and getting nowhere at all … we’re training.
We’re getting stronger. We’re building endurance. We’re learning not to quit.
The scenery may never change, but we’re changing.
That’s why we run on a treadmill. Why we do the duties each day, choosing to delight instead of despise, because we choose to believe He’s changing us as we are faithful in the little things each day. Choosing to believe He will make good on His promises in His time.
Oh sister, I know the Sacred Mundane can be hard. I know it’s not exhilerating to run on a treadmill, alone, staring at a wall and getting nowhere. Doing the duties no one else sees and at the end of the day looking around and wondering, All that work … for what?
For faithfulness.
Because God is watching, sister. Because God is training you for His glory. Building endurance, building character, building faith — growing some choice fruit that can only grow in the shade.
When the scenery never changes, keep running.
When no one’s there to cheer, keep running.
When all that’s ahead is that same bleak wall, keep running.
When it seems you’re getting nowhere, keep running.
Race Day may come and you’ll be ready. Opportunity may knock and you’ll open that door. His answer will come and you will shake your head, smile, and raise our hands in praise. But most importantly, a day will come when you hear the most glorious words,
“Well done … you have been faithful with little things … Enter into My joy.”
Keep running. It’s worth it.
{Revisiting this from 2012. I always need this reminder! Happy Monday, and thanks for reading.}
The Gratitude Gospel?
Something finally broke inside. Enough already. For six months something had been stirring. Something unsettled, exactly that same unsettled feeling that haunted me through the early fall of 2010 when The Hole In Our Gospel stuck real poverty in my face and something broke.
Enough already.
Sure, I cannot fix the world, but I can commit to throwing as many starfish in the water as I can. The work is ultimately God’s, nothing saps our spirit quicker than believing the lie that this whole thing depends on us. It doesn’t. But His work of conviction, that snap inside where we finally say, Enough already, it enlists us in His troops to choose His cares above our own, and we get the joy of living beyond ourselves.
What Enough already am I talking about? The Enough already with not doing, living, and seeing what the Bible clearly teaches. Enough already with over-spiritualizing the gospel, ignoring the real needs right in front of our faces, the very needs Jesus did not ignore.[bctt tweet=”Enough already with over-spiritualizing the gospel, ignoring the real needs Jesus did not ignore.”]
Last time, the revelation was that the Bible clearly teaches God’s heart toward the widow, orphan, alien, poor. God’s Word clearly teaches we are to serve, love, uphold, and give to help the least of these. Scripture clearly teaches that our hearts will be where our money is, so when we turn our funds toward the least, we turn our hearts there too.
It’s clear.
Strangely enough, this is about that too. This is just another Enough already with not doing, living, and seeing what the Bible clearly teaches.
This time, the revelation is that the Bible clearly teaches Jesus healed all who came to Him with physical ailment. (Certainly not every sick person was healed during Jesus’ time on earth but every person who came to Him was. He never said “no” to a person seeking Him for healing.) “This was to fulfill what was spoken by the prophet Isaiah: “He took our illnesses and bore our diseases” (Matt. 8:17).[bctt tweet=”“He took our illnesses and bore our diseases.” (Matt. 8:17)”]
He used miraculous healings to teach spiritual truths, as a sign of His power, but He never negated or diminished or dismissed the very real presence of physical ailments and disease, but completely healed all who came to Him. God’s Word clearly teaches that He gave authority to His 12 disciples and the unnamed 72 followers and those of us who would come after them, commanding us to 1) Preach the gospel 2) Cast out demonic spirits, and 3) Heal the sick (Matt. 10:7-8, Luke 10:8-9). Scripture clearly commands us to lay hands on the sick and they will be healed (James 5:16).
Then why aren’t we and why aren’t they?
Of course I don’t know the answer. But I’m committing this year, as I read through the Bible, to write down everything the Scripture teaches about this. I’m only halfway through the gospel of Mark and there’s two whole pages already! Who knew the Bible was FULL of this stuff?!
For now, one thought:
There has come into our culture a movement that seems good but gets twisted out of proportion. Just as the Prayer of Jabez took a good prayer from Scripture and we blew it up out of proportion so that all we prayed was to have more territory and not have pain, so the new Gratitude Gospel takes everything in the world and gives thanks for it, chooses to see it as good.
That sounds fine, but everything is not good.
Jesus came to destroy the works of the devil (1 John 3:8), not to give thanks for the works of the devil. Yes, we are called to give thanks in everything, but not for everything. Nowhere in Scripture does a desperate, sick, suffering person come to Jesus and Jesus’ response to them is, “Hey, just look on the bright side!”[bctt tweet=”Never in Scripture does Jesus’ respond to a sick person, “Hey, look on the bright side!””]
No, He heals them. He delivers them. All of them. When we ignore the real stuff that Jesus did, we over-spiritualize the gospel, inadvertently removing much of the GOOD that is the Good News!
I know I’m walking a fine-line here. I do not mean to imply that giving thanks is bad. I’m a fanatic thank-er! In fact, often healing and victory come through thanksgiving. But only giving thanks is incomplete. So we ask, Are there ways we’ve turned gratitude into the whole gospel? Are there ways we have accepted evil, thinking we better just be more thankful, rather than fighting against it?
Are there ways we’ve given thanks for the works of the devil instead of destroying them?
Perhaps today, as we continue to give thanks, we might ask the Father if there is any way He desires us to also partner with Him in destroying the works of the devil. How can we fight against evil while still praising God for who He is? On this adventure with you. Thank you so much for reading.
Welcome
There’s nothing quite like a fresh new space, especially one that’s inviting.
When we fell backwards into our old 1906 bungalow, we worked our tails off cleaning, repainting, hauling out hideous fixtures and old carpets, updating, and refreshing. In a word, we wanted to make our home inviting. Our home is far from perfect. I’m not much of a decorator (or a cleaner!), but my heart soars when people feel welcomed, accepted, filled up physically and spiritually in our home.
Online homes are funny things. Some of you, following along via feedreaders, probably don’t even visit this actual site. Others of you could probably care less what it looks like, as you quickly skim content and get on with your busy day. I respect that.
But still, my heart is to create an online home here that’s inviting. I hope that when you click my virtual doorbell and enter my front door, you find your shoulders relaxing.I hope you find a beauty here that doesn’t impress but rather invites. I pray that hope wells up in you when you come, maybe joy too. I pray you are reminded that you’re not alone. And I pray God’s Word deeply challenges us both.[bctt tweet=”I hope you find a beauty here that doesn’t impress but rather invites.”]
My old site had been hacked so many times, my poor husband pieced things back together until we ran out of virtual duct-tape and decided we’d better just burn the whole thing down and start fresh.
Insert Sarah Hellems. My dear friend Sarah added a dash of this and a pinch of that and whipped up a lovely new place for us to hang out. I hope you like it here.
Can I give you a quick tour?
You’ll see how we have a “landing space” where you may wander around a bit and see if anything interests you–books, conferences & retreats, some fun little media pieces on our family over the past few years, as well as a link to our faith-family, Renew Church. Here on the blog we’ll continue our conversations, as usual.
Comments are now fully-functional: hooray! It’s been dreadfully quiet around here for too long. Please share your thoughts with me now! We also have new share buttons, as well as easy-peasy ways to pin posts and share tweets. My hope is that these new features make it easier to carry on gospel-centered conversation, here and around the blogosphere.
To the right you’ll find links for my loves–Simple Homeschool, Gospel for Asia, and World Vision.
You’ll also see a button there for Amazon: Would you please consider making your family’s Amazon purchases via this link? Our family gets a 4% kickback from all purchases via this link with no additional cost to you, and we use these proceeds for ministry expenses. I purposely do not sell advertising here because that kind of feels like putting up a billboard in my living room, but it’s amazing how a few 4% kickbacks can add up to bless our fam! Thanks so much.
So, I think that’s about it. Feel free to snoop around a bit and make yourself at home. I wish I could hand you my bowl-sized cup of dark coffee with cream & honey and let you sink down into my huge chaise lounge to relax for awhile. I so appreciate you making Sacred Mundane part of your day. Thanks for reading.
The Problem With Beautiful
Hello again! This is Caila, stepping in for Kari while she is on vacation. You can read more about me on my blog, CailaMade. Thanks for reading!
I lay on the bed, weeping. Sobs racked throughout my body, causing me to inwardly cringe at my own weakness. My husband’s hand rubbed paths along my shoulder blades. He was understandably lost for words.
I had just returned from speaking in front of our church’s moms group. It was a simple affair. I shared some of the challenges and successes I’ve had over the past few years at becoming a better housewife. I wasn’t preaching to the masses, or running a giant crusade, or being interviewed on the Today Show. I simply stood and shared with the women of our church about an issue we all had in common. No big deal.
Except now I was sobbing my heart out on our bed, with a very bewildered husband at my side. And I was weeping over the very silliest reason of them all.
I didn’t feel beautiful.
Beauty had nothing to do with our moms’ discussion that night. It is a weakness I’ve struggled with periodically, and which rears it’s head every time I feel vulnerable.
And I know, lovely friends, I’m not alone.
Even from this distance I remember the heartbreak of that moment so clearly my eyes are actually tearing up. I feel ashamed of my raw, self-centered fears. But I’m sharing this in the hopes that another mom who is wrestling with the very same fear will feel un-alone and encouraged today. And I’m sharing because I truly believe that lies thrive in the darkness, and the moment we speak them out loud, shine the light of day on their wicked twisted untruths, they begin to lose their power.
So, here you go, Lies. I’m putting you out to die in the light. Good riddance.
We all have moments of feeling less-than. Whether you struggle with feeling hip enough, or wealthy enough, or smart enough, or young enough, or pretty enough, you can find friends here. If you struggle with chasing beauty, well you and I can hang out because I’ve got your number sister and I know how it feels.
But we’ve got a problem. The problem with “beauty” is that the definition is always changing. Not only is the definition changing, but you and I are changing. What’s beautiful today, might not be beautiful in 20 years. And we, who might be beautiful today, will not look the same in 20 years.
Meanwhile, there is something forever valuable in the true beauty of a kind and loving spirit. There is beauty in self-sacrifice, in letting God mold us over time through His Spirit, into something truly, unutterably beautiful.
And that beauty cannot fade over time. It cannot be altered by fads, and it cannot be faked by photo filters. Rather, it shines through the cracks and wrinkles of old age, it hovers peacefully around the young who have found their forgiveness and their place in Christ.
I am not beautiful because of my face. I am not beautiful because of my size, or because my jeans fit again two months after giving birth (they didn’t, by the way). I am not beautiful because of Mac makeup or Nordstrom clothes (I love both of those things). I am not beautiful because of Instagram filters, or styled photo shoots. I am not even beautiful just because my husband thinks I am, although God bless him foreverandeverandever because of it.
No, I am truly beautiful because God loved me. When he formed my body, He did not make a mistake. When he designed my life’s path, He did not rip me off. When He sent His son to die for the sins of the world, I was not excluded. I have this one beautiful chance, this life, to show that I trust Him enough to put my value completely in His hands.
Remember, sweet sister. Beautiful mamma. You do not need to do anything to be beautiful. You do not need to change yourself, beat yourself up, spend lots of money, or sweat it out, to be beautiful. Your value is already found in Him. Let Him grow a beauty out of you that can’t be stolen by years. And 30 or 40 years from now, all the young women will ask why we are so confident and happy and beautiful. And we will smile and tell them why.
*****
“Do not let your adorning be external…but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart.” 1 Peter 3:3-7