Category Archives: Sacred Mundane

I am convinced that Heidi has a “blog-sensor”.  She was lying here sound asleep. Dutch is asleep. Jeff is gone with church stuff tonight.  Silence.  Seizing the golden moment, I pull out my laptop, load my blogpage, prep my fingers to type…WAHHHHH.  SHe wakes. She cries.  She wails.  Not the kind you ignore and it subsides. Wailing…

—Now she’s asleep again.

I learned this week that I need help being helped.    My precious church family, friends, and parents have me in awe by their amazing generosity and labor of love for us during this crazy season.  Next week Heidi will be one month old and I have not cooked a single meal since she was born…and I even have food in my freezer because some days more than one family brought us dinner so some had to be saved for later!  Today a friend provided dinner complete with Haagen Daz Cookie Dough ice cream (my favorite!!), sparkling cider (my other favorite!), and fruit for my monkey boy.  Another dear person went to Costco to get diapers for me today and came back with not only diapers but a few of those crazy huge coscto cupcakes!  I will say, the amazing generosity of people has made is a LOT harder to lose those those pregnancy pounds!  Last time I think only 2-3 people ever brought us food…I was skinny as a rail in no time. 🙂 

Anyway, all that to say  that so many people have been asking “How can I help you?” or offering to come pack boxes or watch Dutch or do whatever.  And it has been so hard for me, because I don’t really know how to be helped.  It isn’t that I don’t WANT help, but I don’t know how to be helped. Anyone relate?  And I think I’m so afraid of being needy, demanding, self-centered, that I push people away who truly want to serve and show their love in practical ways. 

In all of this I’ve noticed that people who have been helped know how to help.  I guess somehow learning how to be helped helps us learn how to help!  (how’s that for confusing?) 

So I’m learning.  My precious small group leader of my women’s BIble study group even emailed Jeff to find out from him how to help me.  They’ve even offered to come over and do my “move out” cleaning so I don’t have to–now THAT is some ministry!  So this week I’ve been thinking through and asking God to show me how to be helped.  I’m realizing that the fact that God’s got me in a needy season is a beautiful way that He is knitting Jeff and me into our new church family here at Willamette.  It’s like we’re so weak and needy that we quit caring about having everything together, and we begin letting ourselves be vulnerable and transparent…and helped. And when that happens, intimacy, deep relationships, connectedness, and true fellowship takes place.  And I’m SO excited to use everything I learn about being helped to help others down the road!! 

So this week I’m making a list of “ways to be helped”… I’m learning!  And, THANK YOU to those of you dear sisters who have blessed my life beyond words these past three and a half weeks.  Your love, notes, lasagna, cookies, and presence have blessed my life more than I can ever express.  Thanks, guys, for the help.

This weekend was my first time back in church.  What a joy to finally be back!!  I felt like this dry, crusty old sponge, the kind that gets pushed back in the corner underneath the sink and forgotten.  (At least that happens in my house).  But as I saw my church family, as I stood with my husband with lifted hands praising my sweet Jesus, as God’s Word washed over my soul, as I partook in communion…my dry soul soaked up every last drop and I felt alive again.  Thank you, Jesus!  In fact, all week I have been reminded over and over how God’s presence, His Word, His people, are the most restorative thing in the world.  Last night and this morning we sang, “We are hungry, we are hungry, we are hungry for more of you.  We are thirsty, O Jesus, we are thirsty for more of you.”  And tears filled my eyes (and do right now) because that is the cry of my heart right now.  I am so desperately thirsty for more of Jesus, for more strength, more grace, more of Him.  I’ve never felt so weak and in need of Him in my life.

But even as I write that I wonder if I’m exaggerating how weak I feel.  It is true–huge shocker here–I am prone to exaggeration.  Chalk it up to being Bill Zyp’s daughter.  I love stories, and love to tell stories, and when I say that Dutch spread the Boudreax’s Butt Paste over the ENTIRE coffee table (and his face, and his truck), perhaps it wasn’t the ENTIRE coffee table. It was only about 1/3 of it. So there, there’s the truth.  It was still a low moment, as it happened at the same moment I checked my email and found out the house where we lived had sold and I was sitting in shock of the realization that now on top of a toddler, a newborn, an internship and a busy husband, we were adding “move…somewhere” to our list of things to do.  But the reality is the moment passed and it was not the end of the world. 

All that to say that I’m convicted by how self-absorbed I spend the majority of my life being.  Right now I’m doing the Beth Moore study on the book of Esther in our Women’s BIble study at church.  (By the way, where has Beth Moore been all my life?!  She’s hands down the best female BIble teacher I’ve ever heard…I’d recommend anything you can get your hands on by her.)  This last week, we studied how hesistant Queen Esther was to make any move in approaching the king to act on behalf of the Jews, her people, who were to be annhialated.  You can hear in her voice–“The King has not summoned me in 30 days”–that she is in the midst of a personal crisis. Her husband apparently no longer has use of her, and it seems that now is certainly not the time for her to be used by God for a miraculous deliverance of any kind. She’s got issues of her own.  She also has been so shielded from the real world, during her five years as Queen, that she fails to recognize the severity of the situation. Massive genocide is ensuing, and she doesn’t want to risk her neck.  She really just wants Mordecai to take off his sackcloth and get properly dressed.  She was too shielded from true hurt and tragedy.  Beth Moore writes this about the situation:

Esther has also detached from the common man’s need. We tend to detach from the sights and situations that make us feel badly about ourselves–especially when we feel powerless.  If we think we can’t do anything about a bad situation, we’d just as soon not have to see it. 

HEre’s the trap, however: If we distance ourselves long enough from the real needs, we replace them with those that aren’t.  Pretense becomes the new real and suddenly a delay in the deliver of our new couch becomes a terrible upset. We are wise to force ourselves to keep differentiating between simple inconveniences and authentic tribulations.  The more detached and self-absorbed we become,the more we mistake annoyances for agonies. It happens to all of us.

Oh conviction rests on me so heavily! This is where I’ve been living.  The reality is that I’m in a season, a situation, with some invconveniences.  We had some disappointments this past week with four different house hopeful situations falling through. The reality is simply that I don’t know where we’re going to live and yes, there are quite a few things on my plate right now.  But truly, friends–these are not tribulations.  They are minor, very minor, inconveniences that only become tribulations if I let them.  And how detached I’ve let myself be from the real hurts and sorrow of the world that I’ve let my little inconveniences become huge tribulations.  Perhaps post-partum hormones play a role too. 🙂

The message at church drove home this point even further.  As we finish our study of Colossians, we went through chapter 4: 2-6, focusing on praying that the gospel message will go out, and that God will use us to speak boldly and clearly.  Pastor Joel shared how sad it is that we become so absorbed in our trivial little matters that we lose all focus on what matters–souls being added to the Kingdom of God.  Guilty as charged.  SO guilty as charged.

Anyway, I’m only half focusing on his post as both kids are awake, so perhaps it doesn’t all make sense. But I’m just trying to say, to myself, Kari–don’t let your mole hills turn into mountains.  God will not let you sleep in the street. He’ll provide a place to live, and I will survive this silly season.  He knows my weak frame, and He’s faithful.  Remember it’s inconvenience, not tribulation. 

God is so good. That’s the first thing I just have to say.  My life still feels a little crazy right now (a lot crazy), but on Monday God just gave me a big huge perspective change like only He can do. I really will share the rest of my fun stories with you, but also wanted to stay current and praise God for His Work.  Saturday-Monday we made three offers on houses and all three were rejected, and by Monday morning…

darn!  Heidi just woke up crying.  Ok, this post will wait.  I WILL keep trying to blog! I WILL keep trying to blog! Please don’t give up on me world! I want to share so much but need to be a mommy too… 🙂

*Warning, this post includes accounts of explosive infant poop.

First it must be said that my hospital stay was amazingly wonderful.  With Dutch I was so anxious to get home and in my own bed, eating my own food, and not smelling that wretched hospital smell that I couldn’t leave soon enough.  So this time I was thinking that as soon as they said I could go home I would.  The first night started out rough; Heidi apparently had lots of amniotic fluid/blood in her stomach so she was fussy/spitty/upset all evening. But the blessing was that a friend of mine, from church, is a labor and deliver nurse there at the hospital.  And, amazingly (coincidence? I think not!) she was on duty from 7pm-7am both nights that we were there (which was amazing because she had many days off before and then an entire week off after).  So she was there to help, to take Heidi for us, and just somehow made everything feel wonderful to me.  And I soon discovered, why on earth would I want to go home when I have my meals brought to me, constant care, a jacuzzi bathtub in my room, and a friend with me all night long to take Heidi so I can sleep?  Pretty good deal! Plus I knew a sick two-year-old was awaiting me at home…This time in the hospital, I had no complaints!  Hospital food?  It’s fabulous when it’s brought to you and you’re starving!  I was definitely less picky the 2nd time around! 

The second night Jeff went home to take care of Dutch, who was pretty sick and sleep-deprived by this point.  So he went and had Daddy-Dutch night and Heidi and I stayed. 

Coming home was a shock.  Dutch was still sick, and Jeff needed to get back to work that day.  So we came home that morning, Dutch went into massive panic mode only wanting MOMMY.  Wanting mommy to read, Mommy to hold him, mommy to give him his banana, mommy to carry him around.  Plus he was sneezing everywhere and coughing, so I was constantly wiping down him, me, hands, surfaces, with lysol wipes, and trying to keep him from touching Heidi or her blankets.  Amazing. By Wednesday night when Jeff got home, the house looked like a hurricane hit, and I said to please call my parents and ask them to come the next day.  🙂  They did.

And then it got so much better.  Each day has been better and better. What’s funny is that all week I said, “I”ll be ok as long as the house doesn’t show.”  So what happens? Late thursday night we get a call that the house is showing Friday. :-).  So we clean, then pack up and adventure out Friday afternoon.  Then, Saturday morning, we get a call that the house will show again that very day at 11:30am.  So Megan comes over and hangs with the kids while we straighten up, then we pack up and head to the park for the afternoon with a picnic lunch.  During this time Heidi and I stayed in the car, and she had the most massive explosive poops–three of them!  When I took off her diaper for the first one, it had gone all the way up her back to her neck :-).  Soaked through all her clothes and her blanket. I took off her diaper and started wiping, and she pooped again on me!  Just as I cleaned up that one with a million wipes, she poops out another one!  By now there is poop everywhere and all I can do is laugh.  Eventually we get her clean, back in her carseat totally naked (I ran out of clothes for her!) and we have our picnic lunch in the car.  It was actually an awesome memorable adventure! Then, as soon as we get home, I get another call from a realtor–the house is showing again tomorrow! By now I am laughing out loud. Three times in our first five days at home? What are the odds? Ok Lord, I get it.  You’re in charge. 

—I had to end this post and save it as a draft, and it’s hilarious looking at it now because the second week of HEidi’s life has been so much more insane than the first week I am now laughing.  I have much more to write now but no time to do it! The house ended up showing SIX times the first week of HEidi’s life, and then SOLD the day Heidi turned one week! 🙂  Wow.  I now have TWO unbelievable poop stories, a Butt Paste story that will horrify you, and just for the record, I’ve spent the last two hours crying. 

So, more to tell.  “The First Five Days” has turned into “The First Month” because we are now moving in three weeks! Ha!  And I’m supposed to start back at my internship this week, doing 10 hours of work each week. Hmmm. ANd I have no idea where we’re moving.  Did I mention both my kids seem to have exploding poop episodes more often than normal?  ANyway, many more fun stories to tell, just no time right now because Heidi’s needing me and the dryer buzzer just went off.  I’m perfecting the one-handed laundry-fold, dish-washing, typing, you name it. 🙂  Lots of fun stories to tell…the problem is that I have to live through them.

So there you have it. More to come.  “The First Month” will be nothing but fun stories that hopefully demonstrate God’s sweet mercy in the midst of a crazy season. Enjoy.

*Some of you will not care about labor stories…if that’s you feel free to skip this one.  Some of us strange girls love them.

Well I am breaking my own rule, just this once, of sleeping when Dutch & Heidi are sleeping.  It’s been a week and I’m missing you!  I cannot believe it’s only been five days that dear Heidi has been with us.  How can you be so in love with someone you’ve only known 5 days!  I know it’s futile to try to convey to you how utterly captivated I am by my daughter.  I just sound like another gushing mom. But really, this little wee fairy of ours has stolen our hearts…even though she pooped on me three times today! 🙂

Speaking of, I had to post just an overview of the last five days.  No spiritual significance here, it just seems that after giving birth I have this strange desire to tell everyone about it.  And, life with a newborn, recovering from childbirth, a sick toddler, a busy pastor husband, and a house that’s for sale, there’s never a dull moment! 

First, labor.  Oh my goodness.  Every rule of how it’s supposed to be went out the window. Dutch’s labor was early, super fast, and super easy.  I still looked good afterwards!  And everyone and their mother (including my midwife) that this one would be even earlier, faster, and easier.  Sweet!  I was all set for her to arrive at least a week early and be quick and easy.  So, the night before my due date, I had contractions, painful but irregular, all night. By early Sunday morning they were 5 min. apart and consistent. Sweet! They say 2nd moms should go the hospital when they are 5 min. apart.  We get Dutch up and discover he’s come down with a horrible cold.  Are you kidding me? Not today.  Ok, that’s ok.  We call and tell my parents to stay posted, and wait.  And then…the contractions stop.  Stop.  What?!  Then all day Sunday they are off and on, 20 min apart, 30 min apart, 10 min apart.  No rhyme or reason. I go for two long walks (4.5 miles!), waddling my miserable self along the sidewalk, stopping to try to breathe through the contractions, probably looking like a crazy woman.  We wait.  And wait.  We eat an entire large pepperoni pizza and let Dutch watch Cars all day long.  And wait. 

Slowly they get stronger. By 9:30 that night they are way stronger than before, and regular, 5 min. apart. But who knows.  at 10:30 we call my parents and ask them to come.  By 11pm they are insanely strong and 2 minutes apart, excruciating.  They were ten times worse than any contractions I ever had with Dutch, and way closer, lasting a minute each and coming every 2 minutes. By the time my parents get there I am in a zone and can’t even think, trying to breathe through these.  I’m thinking, “Yes! This is going to be FAST! These are insane contractions!”  We get to the hospital, they check me.  1 cm.  ONE STINKING CENTIMETER!! You are kidding me? I was 1 cm. at my last doctor’s appointment! NO progress?  None?!  They say to walk around for an hour and they’ll check me again.  Walk??  Walk??  I try to stumble through the hospital halls, a few steps then moaning and breathing through these crazy things. After an hour, which felt like an eternity, they come back at 1am and check me.  By then I have chills and am shaky–I’ve got to be in transition by now!  Nightmare of all nightmares, she checks me…I’m STILL at 1 cm. NO PROGRESS whatsoever. Are you kidding me?  “I’m so sorry honey but you have to go back home.”  Ok, I respond, no big thing. They give me a small dose of morphine to help me relax and try to slow the contractions a bit so I can at least catch my breath in between.  Then I change back into my clothes, delirious, and stumble back outside to our car.  As soon as I sit down I begin bawling.  “I’m gonna die.  I can’t do this for 10 hours.”  I can laugh about it now.  I was just crying Jesus help me Jesus help me all the way home. 

Once home the morphine helps take the edge off and helps me relax enough so the contractions space to 5 min. apart.  So for three hours at least I can rest a little in between and text message a dear friend who stayed up that night praying for me.  By 5am the morphine is long gone and they are picking up speed and intensity again.  I figure what the heck they can send us home again but at least we have to get back to the hospital because they are worse than ever and I will get more morphine or strangle the nurses to death and get some myself.  We arrive at 5:30am, at 6am she comes to check me and says, “You’re staying!” and I thought she meant “You’re staying at 1cm” and I just about pass out…then she continues, “You’re staying, you’re 5 cm, do you want an epidural?”  And I begin weeping and crying out loud, “Thank you Jesus! Thank you Jesus! Thank you Jesus!” She seriously must have thought I was a religious nut. ALl I could do was cry and tell Jesus how much I loved Him. (I’m laughing right now remembering).  At 7am I got an epidural and at 8am I started pushing–so that part went fast.  But little Miss Heidi still didn’t want to come! With Dutch it was like 3 hard pushes, 9 minutes, and he jumped out.  No such deal with this girl. ALmost 1.5 HOURS of intense pushing, with the cord wrapped around this little angel’s neck, and finally she was born at 9:28am.  Broken blood vessels in my eye and the next day I felt like someone had taken me out back and beat me with baseball bat.  Goodness sakes.  Talk about not what I expected. Easier labor the 2nd time, eh?  🙂  Not me.  But oh so worth it! She came out beautiful, of course.  Our little wee fairy.

And speaking of our wee fairy, time to feed her.  More adventures to come… 🙂

A glimpse of our new daughter is over here.

Happy Valentine’s Day!  I have to admit, Jeff and I aren’t huge Valentine people.  We love eachother, of course, but I guess i”m just not into the red-heart-ballooon thing and the fact that good red roses cost $50/dozen.  But at our church a friend of mine, along with some other women, do a workshop each year on how to bless your husband for Valentine’s Day.  My friend’s mom was the one who started it, as she would do amazing and ridiculous things for her husband during the two weeks before Valentine’s Day.  FOr example, she would make huge posters saying, “Trish loves Mark!” and staple them to telephone poles along his route to work.  She’d send him packages at work, secretly drop off cookies for him and all his co-workers, or have random people like the UPS guy deliver love notes.  Basically, after probably close to 30 years of marriage she still found it hilarious to bombard him with reminders of her love…and perhaps have a little fun embarrassing him in front of his co-workers at the same time.

But the point of the workshop was all about finding ways to bless your husband.  Not just a cheesy card or a box of chocolates, and not just expecting your husband to do something for YOU, but choosing to take the first step and do something unexpectedly for him.  Something that’s tailor made for him.  I must say it was encouraging and challenging.

I wish I could say that I DID all of those things.  But, I confess, I really thought I’d be giving Jeff a daughter for Valentine’s Day and so we kind of just got wrapped up in prepping for the baby.  The day came, and…well, I gave him some Mike’s Hard Lime and a box of Cheese-its. (Hey, give me a break! Those ARE a treat for him.) 

But my husband spoke my language today.  Most everyone is familiar with the Five Love Language book. Well, I am an Acts of Service girl hands down.  Jeff knows the way to my heart is to save our money and spend a few hours scrubbing the floor instead.  Really though, what ministers to me more than anything is when Jeff is willing to lay aside his schedule, priorities, and needs to make my requests a priority.  So you want to know how he wooed me today?  Scrubbed the shower (the worst job!) top to bottom, swept and mopped all the floors, vacuumed the carpet, gave Dutch a bath, unloaded the dishwasher, cleaned out my car, and swept the garage.  Yeah! Happy Valentine’s to me!  I think I told him a dozen times today that this was the best Valentine’s Day ever. 

So thank you, Hon, for speaking my language today.  Thank you for blessing me with your time and your hard work.  Happy Valentine’s Day.

What strange emotions accompany the end of pregnancy!  It’s no secret I am sooo very anxious to have this baby and hold her in my arms.  And yes, I have been struggling with the waiting, thinking maybe-this-is-it, then no it’s not.  A rollercoaster.  But a friend who recently was nine days overdue before giving birth to her second child (and her first one was 2 weeks early!) has become such an example to me.  Another friend related that how she stayed sane was just by keeping the perspective that these were the last few days of cherishing the sweet relationship with the precious two children she already has (one is adopted).  She really did maintain joy through the long 9 days of being overdue.  So that’s what I’m doing, and in the midst of this, the emotions are going crazy!  My sweet boy, who I adore beyond words…how thankful I am for him, and how I never want to rush through these last few days of Dutch-and-Mommy time. 

What I love about you, Dutch:

1. How everything is over-the-top exciting, how you exclaim “Whoa!” over even the smallest things–making life truly a grand adventure.  No detail is too mundane to celebrate.

2. That you love love love to read.  And how intensely you listen to the stories, chiming in excitedly over the details you know, pointing out the things you can pronounce, interjecting excited noises all throughout, even though we’ve read the same book a hundred times.

3.  How you look at me and smile everytime you hear a siren outside because you know I’ll get excited with you.

4. The smell of your breath.  Last night holding you at the concert, I couldn’t get close enough to your mouth, holding your cheek against mine, inhaling your sweet breath, hoping I’d never forget. Never forget.

5. Your amazing cowlick you get from your daddy.

6. How you love to sleep under your bed.  Hilarious.

7. How you so patiently go to church events, day after day, with us, spending hours in the nursery at times.  What a stellar PK you are. 🙂

8. How proud I am that I get to be the one you call Mama.

9. How you can play all by yourself at the park, loading and dumping your dump truck full of barkdust, for hours on end, with freezing hands and bright red nose.

10. Watching you play the drums.  You’re a little percussionist at heart!

11. Your favorite words and phrases:  Papa Cruck, Dada-go-work-church, chitch (fish) Marlin (from Nemo), Chuna (which means tuna AND cheese at different times), go-go (yogurt), Nana, Dumpa-Dan (Dump truck Dan from his favorite book).  And your new word for Heidi:  “hah, hah, hah”.

12. How you bow your head and pray, then sneak bites of food. 🙂

—

Time to go wake you up from your nap. No doubt you’ll be found underneath your bed.  I love you son.  For however long we have, just you and I, you’re my little hero.  Let’s play…

“Expecting.”  That’s what they call a woman who’s pregnant–she’s expecting. It is a very appropriate term, as I am now just a few days from my due date and really really thought Heidi would have arrived by now.  Nothing profound here, just thoughts on waiting.  You’d think I wouldn’t get my hopes up, after all my lecturing and preaching on Expectation vs. Expectancy, right? YOu’d think I had this stuff down.  No, I still get my hopes up, get my heart set on things, and get disappointed.  I had contractions all day yesterday and thought for sure Heidi would arrive last night. Plus, my parents had Dutch for a slumber party, Jeff finished his last homestretch church meeting, and I thought for sure she’d make her grand arrival last night.  This morning, I woke up, and as I came to and realized that nothing had gone as planned, the irrational thoughts swept over me and I lay in bed and cried…and cried and cried and cried.  Mix hormones with fatigue with feeling like this baby is going to fall out, with the mixed emotions of celebrating a new life and yet grieving the loss of this special season where life is largely Dutch-and-Mommy.  My sweet little boy…still sweet, but about to be shaken indeed. All that tossed together erupted in a morning of tears.

But after my dear sweet husband not only put up with my crabby snapping at him, but also loved, blessed, and ministered to me, I quit sulking and got on with my day.  And later this afternoon, after the life-changing perspective that only Pizza Schmizza can bring (!), I dug into God’s Word.  Right now in the OT I’m reading Numbers (I got really behind in my Bible reading so yesterday I had to read from Exodus 26 to Numbers 13…do you have any idea how agonizing that is? To read the entire book of Leviticus in one sitting?  That is a LOT of discharge and uncleanliness.  Yeah, brutal.)  Anyway, today I read Numbers and it recounts the children of Israel’s journey in the wilderness. They followed the Lord, who would manifest His presence by a cloud which rested on the tabernacle of meeting.  When the cloud moved forward, they would pack up camp and move forward.  When it stayed, they stayed.  No warning, just watching.  Chapter 9:22-23 reads, “Whether the cloud stayed over the tabernacle for two days or a month or a year, the Israelites would remain in camp and not set out; but when it lifted, they would set out. At the LORD’s command they encamped, and at the LORD’s command they set out. They obeyed the LORD’s order, in accordance with his command through Moses.”  Did you catch that?  Two days, or a month, or a year.  Yikes!  Expecting a child is really only over a span of 1-2 weeks.  But this span could range from 2 days to a year! 

So often I’ve lamented that I can’t really settle and nest because we have no idea how long we’ll be living here, as we’re in the process of trying to sell our homes and living in a home that’s for sale.  I don’t want to decorate the kids’ rooms as we won’t be here long.  Yada yada yada.  How my heart longs to settle!  But instead, we wait.  We watch and wait because we have no idea how long we’ll be here.  And the same with Heidi.  Should I buy fresh milk and fruit and lettuce? Or should I wait?  I know, these are seriously ridiculously trivial questions, but I still have them.  Should Jeff plan to teach the Jr. High students on Sunday or not?  A state of waiting.

But I cannot imagine living in that state as the children of Israel did. But they did, and they learned the art of attentively and patiently waiting on God.  It had to be hard, never knowing how long you’d be in one spot.  And yet this utter depedence that they had must have pleased the Father, and must have worked in them that character that otherwise would never have been developed. 

So my waiting is very trivial. How cool is God’s Word, that in the middle of my pregnancy/hormone issues, I can read the ancient book of Numbers and find such wonderful comfort from the Scriptures, written centuries ago.  Truth never changes. God never changes.  And, He’s worth waiting on.  And Heidi’s worth waiting for.  🙂

It’s amazing that I can listen to the same sermon two days in a row (Saturday night service and Sunday morning service) and be totally  ministered to in separate ways, like it was a brand new sermon (and Joel does preach differently on the two days, that’s for sure).  Yesterday I wrote about setting our minds on things above, and verse 3 of Colossians 3 tells us why:  For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.”  This reality, that we are a new creation should never cease to blow our minds or change the way we live. ANd yet, as Joel sadly pointed out, innumerable surveys and studies conclude that for the most part Christians and non-Christians behave in the same way. They listen to the same music, watch the same movies, spend the money the same way, get divorced just as often, have the same conflicts…etc.  How sad is that?  How sad that for a majority of those who call themselves believers, Christ is just an escape route from hell.  That is a tragic abuse of God’s grace. 

This message, from Colossians 3:1-11 was basically, “You’re a Christian. Act like it.”  The reality is that we are new, that we are no longer slaves to sin but are now slaves to righteousness.  We are slaves to right living, which means if we submit to the power of God in our lives, we no longer have to submit to the evil desires that well up within us, because that is no longer who we are.  What if, after I went through the ceremony of marrying Jeff, said my vows, put on the ring, cut the cake, etc.  What if after we honeymooned for two weeks in Kauai, then we got home and I said, “Ok bye, I’m going back to live with my parents.  Call me sometime, ok?”  That would be ridiculous.  I’m not longer single.  I’m no longer Kari Zyp.  I am Kari Patterson, wife of Jeff.  I have a new identity which means I get to enjoy the freedoms, privileges and responsibilities which come with that. 

Because of this, God calls us to take sin seriously.  Dabbling in sin is not only grievous to God and detrimental to our attempts at growing in righteousness, it is living contrary to our nature.  It is acting in a way that is not who we are.  What did Jesus say about sin?  “If your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out…” and no just gouge it out, I love how Joel pointed out, “Gouge it out, and throw it away!”  As if gouging one’s eye out wasn’t enough.  “And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off,” and then, in case that doesn’t stop it, “cut it off and throw it away.”  Joel said, “I’m surprised Jesus doesn’t say, ‘throw it away, beat it with a stick, douse it with gasoline and light it on fire.”  Jesus was talking seriously about sin.  The point?  No measure is too great.  No measure we take to keep ourselves from sinning is too great. 

And no sin is too small to confess.  I want to be the person that keeps a short account with God. I want to confess any little impure motive, critical thought, thoughtless word.  Just yesterday I made a joke about something with some people, and afterwards realized it was thoughtless. Even though it seemed ridiculous to go back to that person and confess my thoughtlessness, I did it.  Maybe it was unncessary, but you know what? I’d rather err on the side of honesty, confession, humility. I’d rather keep a short account with God because that is how we stay current with Him.  That is how we keep our hearts tender toward Him. That is how we keep ourselves from being deceived by sin’s warping effect. 

So tonight I’m thanking God that I’m a new creation. That the old things are gone, that all things have been made new. I’m thankful that I’m no longer a slave to sin, but am now a slave of of righteousness. 

And…on the topic of new life, I’m hoping and praying a new little life will arrive soon. Because I’m really tired of being pregnant (!) and I’m ready to hold my daughter, in my arms at last.