Do I mean "Lord, fix me so I won't struggle with _____ anymore!"
-or
Do I mean "Lord, fill me--more than anything I want to be with you."
It's good to know my struggles and desire to be changed, but if that's my end goal, He becomes a means to my comfort. The later says, "Yes, I'm a mess. You know this, yet you still want to be with me!?! Fantastic!!!"
I was thinking about this idea and did a basic search of passages that talk about Jesus being WITH. In a cursory search I found 58 different incidents--not repeats in different gospels, but unique times. Here's a short sampling...
Luke 1:28 And coming in, he said to her, "Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you."
Mark 3:14 And He appointed twelve, so that they would be with Him and that He could send them out to preach.
Luke 24:14-15 While they were talking and discussing, Jesus Himself approached and began traveling with them.
John 3:22-23 After these things Jesus and His disciples came into the land of Judea, and there He was spending time with them and baptizing.
Matt 26:20 Now when evening came, Jesus was reclining at the table with the twelve disciples.
John 14:16-17, 22-24 "I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Helper, that He may be with you forever; 17 that is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it does not see Him or know Him, but you know Him because He abides with you and will be in you. Jesus answered and said to him, " If anyone loves Me, he will keep My word; and My Father will love him, and We will come to him and make Our abode with him.
John 17:24 "Father, I desire that they also, whom You have given Me, be with Me where I am, so that they may see My glory which You have given Me, for You loved Me before the foundation of the world.
Luke 22:14-16 When the hour had come, He reclined at the table, and the apostles with Him. 15 And He said to them, "I have earnestly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer;
Luke 23:42-43 And he was saying, "Jesus, remember me when You come in Your kingdom!" 43 And He said to him, "Truly I say to you, today you shall be with Me in Paradise."
Eph 2:3-6 But God, being rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, 5 even when we were dead in our transgressions, made us alive together with Christ ( by grace you have been saved), 6 and raised us up with Him, and seated us with Him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus.
1 John 1:3-4 what we have seen and heard we proclaim to you also, so that you too may have fellowship with us; and indeed our fellowship is with the Father, andwith His Son Jesus Christ.
Rev 3:20-22 Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and will dine with him, and he with Me. 21'He who overcomes, I will grant to him to sit down with Me on My throne, as I also overcame and sat down with My Father on His throne.
Do I believe He primarily wants to fix me, or be with WITH me?
"Imagine yourself moving into a house with a huge picture window overlooking a grand view across a wide expanse of water enclosed by a range of snow-capped mountains. You have a ringside seat before wild storms and cloud formations, the entire spectrum of sun-illuminated colors in the rocks and trees and wildflowers and water. You are captivated by the view. Several times a day you interrupt your work and stand before this window to take in the majesty and the beauty, thrilled with the botanical and meteorological fireworks.
One afternoon you notice some bird droppings on the window glass, get a bucket of water and a towel, and clean it. A couple of days later a rainstorm leaves the window streaked, and the bucket comes out again. Another day visitors come with a tribe of small dirty-fingered children. The moment they leave you see all the smudge-marks on the glass. They are hardly out the door before you have the bucket out. You are so proud of that window, and it's such a large window. But it's incredible how many different ways foreign objects can attach themselves to that window, obscuring the vision, distracting from the contemplative beauty. Keeping that window clean develops into a obsessive-compulsive neurosis. You accumulate ladders and buckets and squeegees. You construct a scaffoldoing both inside and out to make it possible to get to all the difficult corners and heights. You have the cleanest window in North America--but it's now been years since you looked through it. You've become a Pharisee." Excerpt taken fromThe Jesus Way, by Eugene Peterson, p 211.
After 9 mos with a leaky kitchen faucet, I finally had it replaced last week.I took matters into my own hands.I trudged the 10 minute trek to the “Home Depot” and selected a shiny new faucet, called the maintenance guy all by myself, and watched him install it for a whopping 2$.(Gotta love the “wu ye!”I call to ask them to install the sink, and they hesitate… “Mam, it won’t be free…. It’s going to cost… 2$... Do you still want it installed?”Are you kidding me?)
For 9 mos, I have tolerated (but gritched and griped about) the leaky faucet.You see, there are various coping mechanisms. I put a washcloth around the neck of the faucet, which catches about 10-90% of the drip.The remaining 90-10% creates anywhere from a small trickle to Lake Michigan on the tile floor. This leads to throwing dish towels on the floor to catch the spillover. This leads to excess laundry.This leads to an empty towel drawer, because I only fold clothes once a week. So inevitably, when you’ve got end-of-the-week spillage with no towels in the drawer, and then you throw wet socks into this picture…
I positively despise wet socks.Wet, barefoot feet—no problem.But wet socks??Ugh!And we have cold tile floors all throughout the house, which means I’m always wearing socks.The astute observer may at this point offer a variety of other suggestions.Why, you might ask, don’t you wear house shoes?Or, maybe a dish towel up on the drain may catch it before it runs onto the floor.Perhaps fold your laundry more often? No, no—these just aren’t my style.
Or you may simply wonder--why did it take you so long to buy a new faucet?
I tried to fix it own my own once.I bought caulk, and a caulk gun and glued that stuff all over the place. It sprung a leak. I added more caulk.The dam broke. After a third application, I thought I finally had it down.Until I tried to swivel the faucet to the side.Duh.
But today was the day—new faucet day. As I was basking in the glory of the replaced piece, enjoying my dry socks, the maintenance guy turns to me and says, “This faucet you bought is really cheap.It won’t last very long. I think they cheated you.”
I think that my spiritual life can sometimes be like my perpetually leaky faucet.Something is seeping out that shouldn’t be.I begin to realize it, and I don’t like my socks wet, so I try the best things I know to fix it myself.Try harder.Change my socks.Wash the towels. Apply more caulk. It seems to work for awhile, but eventually the towel drawer is empty and my socks are sopping…all my efforts have all failed.What to do?
I need a new faucet. I need a radical transformation, not just some band-aid remedy.Taking a nap, finishing the job later, or asking Jim to do the dishes… well, these just don't fix the leak. But until I get fed up enough and realize that all my coping mechanisms aren’t going to cut it, I won’t call for help.
Lucky for me, my Maintenance Man offers unparalleled service and his replacement parts are always top quality. He is available 24 hours a day, and yet charges nothing.But here my analogy breaks down. He is not an on-call workman, uninvolved in my life 364 days of the year yet swooping in to fix my problems when I beg for help.He is ever-present, lovingly committed to exposing my wet socks and bringing the gospel of the new faucet when I am finally fed up with my self-made solutions.He has a new faucet for me, bubbling over with mercy and grace.Do I believe this?“I believe… Help my unbelief!”
When its time to watch a movie, the girls rarely agree. Sometimes I decree whose turn it is, and other times I make them work it out till there is a consensus choice. Yet lately, I've noticed that the "consensus" means that Kathryn gets her way.
"Kathryn, I've noticed that Ellie almost always lets you have your pick. Do you think that is right?"
"Sure, mom. If I refuse to give in, she lets me have my way. It works great!"
Kathryn is my very verbal, very emotive, ever-aware-of-every-feeling-in-the-depths-of-her-heart-and-sparing-no-effort-to-articulate-them child.She is God’s gift to me because (at least one reason is) she pushes me to grow in healthy dealing with emotions. Giving voice and ‘leaning into’ her feelings yet trying to teach her not to let them control her is a lesson I am still learning myself.
Yesterday we were watching the Lion King together.You know the part where King Mufasa lies dead at the bottom of the ravine, and Scar swoops down to lay the blame on Simba? At this point, Kathryn starts chiming in agreeing with Scar, listing reasons for Simba’s faults.
“No, Kathryn, it wasn’t Simba’s fault. It was Scar’s fault.”
“NO, mommy, Simba killed his daddy.”
(I turn the movie off—we need to get this right. I insert all the reasons that Scar, and not Simba, is to blame for his death.)
“NO, mommy, it WAS Simba’s fault. And you can’t convince me it wasn’t!”
(I sense something deeper going on…)
“Kathryn, why do you think you are so upset about Simba?”
“It’s JUST like what happened with the jumprope today!"
(Aha! There was something under there!)
“What happened today, Kathryn?”
(Story comes out that during recess, a Chinese girl left her jump rope on the ground. Kathryn and her friend Faith find it and play with it. The little girl wants her jump rope back, and she and Kathryn start fighting pulling at either end. The rope snaps, and Kathryn runs away.)
“You see mom, it’s all Faith’s fault, because if she hadn’t found the jumprope, it never would have broken.”
(The light is going off in my head—it’s important to her that Simba is to blame, just like it’s important that Faith is to blame!)
“Kathryn, do you see why it’s silly to say Faith is to blame? That’s like saying, ‘It’s my teacher’s fault, because she brought us out to the playground.’ Or ‘It’s daddy’s fault, because he took me to school today.’
“You're right, mommy-- it IS my teacher’s fault!”
(OK, regroup, we're moving in the wrong direction…)
“Kathryn, tell mommy how you feel about what happened with the jumprope.”
(Then something flows out of her mouth that completely floors me--)
“Mommy, I feel ashamed, and that feels yucky. And so I get angry instead, because it’s nicer to feel angry than ashamed. The anger is like a cover over the shame.”
I’m not joking.I’m quoting it exactly like she said it! She is 5! I am stunned and stumble to recover. This child needs a gospel moment. But how to best bring it? We spend several minutes talking about how God is not disappointed in her, but rather desires that she COME to Him seeking forgiveness and grace. He knows she is naturally selfish, loves her deeply anyway, and freely offers the only resources to give her a heart full and love and kindness towards her friend.
Yet at every turn, she resists, still running from the broken jump rope. It was as if I could feel her active defiance. Not against me, but refusal to turn towards grace. 'I WILL NOT ask for help. I WILL solve this myself.' On the one hand she has SHOCKING, MIND-BOGGLING awareness of what is going on in the depths of her heart. Yet on the other hand, a complete refusal to receive the grace that her heart most needs.
I stop to wonder, How often do I too actively resist grace, yet am completely unaware?
Will you stop for a moment and pray for Kathryn? Would you ask that God would reveal to her sensitive heart that He is ever FOR her, "gracious and compassionate, slow to anger, abounding in lovingkindness and truth?" And while you are praying for Kathryn, would you pray it for her mommy too? :) This is His merciful offer of relationship and restoration for 5 and 35 year old children alike!
Yesterday I took the girls with some friends to a surreal place in China—it’s a recreated French castle only 20 minutes from our house. As you approach this enormous estate, you feel you have left behind all things Chinese.
What a beautiful day! You can even see the mountains in the backdrop. I normally forget that we live near mountains.
We began with a picnic playing in a grassy field. You don't know what a great privilege soft green grass can be! You really don't believe this is China, do you? See the flag below in the upper right corner?
So they started playing dead. This reminds me of the dramatic re-enactment of the Lady of Shallot in the Anne of Green Gables series.
"Are you tired, Ellie?"
"NO, mom, GO AWAY! I'm DEAD!"
Then we went inside for a peek... look like the Sistine Chapel? Just a bit? Just for kicks we asked to see some guests rooms. 200+ for their basic room, and 1800+ for their super suite!
Out in front they had this Cinderella-type carriage. Just like we're headed to the ball!
Isn't that a great looking bunch? He really has blessed us with wonderful community here!
It is April 24, 2009, the 7th anniversary of our first daughter, Hannah's birth. I set aside this morning to reflect and write, and yet, I have a rather strange compulsion to either launch a mass Spring cleaning, or take a nap. In a draw, I believe the later would win.
I’m sitting here slowly eating a whole bag of skittles. Because I’m an adult, and I can do that. And because they are bright and colorful. And because we going to the dentist today, so it doesn’t matter. It’s cold today. High of 50 and rainy. I just went to the drawer to find some socks, and there are no matching socks. One blue stripe, one green stripe, one mitten sock, one plain white one, and a snowman sock. Grief is a little bit like that. Lots of pieces that don’t match up.
I can’t think of anything to write that is worthy of this day; something that says, “Hannah, mommy has been thinking about you all year long!” But that’s ok; I think she understands. Yet, as I think back to how we have commemorated Hannah’s life over the last 7 years, these come to mind.
Deep friendships that have developed through loss…Simon & Tiffany, Jeff & Heather, Marc & Amy, Will & Tina …conversations of memories, grief, and hope.
I remember planting flowers 'with' Kathryn when she was 1 in Dallas, planting an apple tree in Singapore, and thinking about planting something in China... Receiving tons of plants after her funeral, all of which eventually died and made me cry over again each time. I remember the joy of sending flowers to others, a comfort to another grieving friend in her name. Christmas Poinsettias, Easter Lilies… There’s something redemptive about flowers. They are bright and alive, at least for awhile. ‘Hannah’s Picket’ in Altus, and making her scrapbook.
I remember multiple writings… letters from friends; writing down memories so I won’t forget details as time passes; writing reflections about how her life has changed me; writing about making sense of suffering; writing about fascinating conversations I’ve shared with Kathryn; suggestions about 'How NOT to help your grieving friend'; A Psalm of Lament & A Psalm of Praise, paralleling Hannah’s and Kathryn’s births; writing various articles-- In My Experience, Redemption and an Apple Tree, My Story, Her Story, His Story, Bring Me to Jesus.
I have followed blogs processing the grief of loss with great interest, in many ways continuing to process my own. Knox Memories, As I Journey Home, Bring the Rain… I have read several books about loss, only two of which I found profoundly helpful-- Lament for a Sonby Nicholas Wolterstorffand A Grace Disguisedby Jerry Sittser.
Ironically, I just stopped to open my email to write a note to friends who were expecting their daughter to be born stillborn soon…Jim had just forwarded a message from him asking if we could pass along our funeral service program and the letter we sent out after Hannah died. In this vein, there are little ways her life has been 'helpful' to others, but nothing that feels worthy of her death.
Hannah, mommy remembers you. Your dark blonde hair and your deep blue eyes; Your button nose and your tiny fingers curled around mine. Your soft rosy cheeks and your perfect toes. I remember.
Though you cannot see Him in the night, trust Him with joy for the morning light As He enables, spend your grieving energies on His wonder. For He will greet you not with answers, but with showers of His goodness He will cradle your longing in His own bosom, And cause the yearning of your heart to bubble forth as a spring of new birth.
I am still awaiting that day!
You know the one thing I’ve yet to write? Her story. Memories, reflections, dialogue, snippets—yes. But I’ve never written out her story. It would write much different at 7 years than at 1 year… I’m not committing to it, I’m just chewing on the idea. You can ask me about it next year:) But for today, I’m simply reflecting on her life, this day, April 24, 2009.
You know what I saw in my heart this Easter season? I'd love to tell you about my deeply contemplative reflections on the wonder of Christ. Yet sometimes instead he reveals those things that keep us from going there. I learned (again...can't I get it down?) that self-driven expectations of making things charming and elaborate steal rest, meditation, and joy. Not that I can’t or shouldn't host, serve others, or prepare a warm environment for a holiday… In fact, we spent Easter lunch in our friend's home, bearing the blessing of her culinary and artsy gifts! Yet, not all gifts, nor all hosts, are created equal. If my spill-over stress robs me from serving joyfully and drawing myself and my family towards delighting in Christ during Easter, forget it. Yet striving for ‘Mary-like-sitting-at-the-Lord’s-feet’ in the midst of ‘Martha-like-ahhh!- guests-immanently-arriving’ is a balance I have yet to achieve!Words of wisdom anyone?
Here are some fun pics from our Easter celebrations:
When there is no margin in life, blogging is the first thing to go. This has been a super-busy season of continual hosting, filling out mountains of paperwork for a leadership development process in May, and preparing for our mom's retreat this last weekend. Then there was Easter and our 10th anniversary--both events begging for profound reflection, the depths of which can be regretfully lost in the mix. I'm ready for the pace of life to slow!
OK, to keep you coming back, I PROMISE NEW POSTS for the next 4 days! (I can only assure this because I've already written them :)
To begin a catch-up, I want to affirm that Spring has finally arrived! Last week the girls and I enjoyed a day at the park with near perfect weather--clear blue skies and 70 degrees!
Ellie imitating the flight of pigeons--Great action shot!
Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but One who has been tempted in all things as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore draw near with confidence to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and may find grace to help in time of need. Hebrews 4:14-16
Whiter Than Snow
To heart and soul how sweet Thou art, O great High Priest of God! My heart brought nigh to God's own heart By Thy most precious blood.
No more my countless sins shall rise To fill me with dismay-- That precious blood before His eyes Hath put them all away.
My soul draws near with trust secure, With boldness glad and free; What matters it that I am poor, For I am rich in Thee.
Forgotten every stain and spot, Their memory past and gone, For me, O God, Thou seest not, Thou lookest on Thy Son.
Is all a dream? Thou canst not lie, Thy Spirit and Thy Blood Proclaim to sinners such as I The boundless love of God.
They tell Thy love, so deep, so free, They tell the Father's heart-- Not what I am, or I must be, They tell me what Thou art.
Come, weary sinners, great and small, The open door stands wide, Thy blessed heart that welcomes all, O Lamb of God, who died.
--Gerhard Tersteegen, November 25, 1697-April 3, 1769
The day was January 6, 1850. Charles Spurgeon was 15 years old.
I sometimes think I might have been in darkness and despair until now had it not been for the goodness of God in sending a snowstorm, one Sunday morning, while I was going to a certain place of worship. When I could go no further, I turned down a side street, and came to a little Primitive Methodist chapel. In that chapel there may have been a dozen or fifteen people. . . . The minister did not come that morning; he was snowed up, I suppose. At last, a very thin-looking man, a shoemaker, or tailor, or something of that sort, went up into the pulpit to preach. . . . He was obliged to stick to his text, for the simple reason that he had little else to say. The text was “Look unto me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth [Isaiah 45:22].”
He did not even pronounce the words rightly, but that did not matter. There was, I thought, a glimpse of hope for me in that text. The preacher began thus: “My dear friends, this is a very simple text indeed. It says, ‘Look.’ Now lookin’ don’t take a deal of pain. It ain’t liftin’ your foot or your finger; it is just, ‘Look.’ Well, a man needn’t go to college to learn to look. You may be the biggest fool, and yet you can look. A man needn’t be worth a thousand a year to be able to look. Anyone can look; even a child can look.
“But then the text says, ‘Look unto Me’. . . . Many of ye are lookin’ to yourselves, but it’s no use lookin’ there. Ye will never find any comfort in yourselves. Some look to God the father. No, look to him by-and-by. Jesus Christ says, ‘Look unto Me.’ Some of ye say, ‘We must wait for the Spirit’s workin’.’ You have no business with that just now. Look to Christ. The text says, ‘Look unto Me.’”
Then the good man followed up his text in this way: “Look unto Me; I am sweatin’ and great drops of blood. Look unto Me; I am hangin’ on the cross. Look unto Me; I am dead and buried. Look unto Me; I rise again. Look unto Me; I ascend to heaven. Look unto Me; I am sittin’ at the Father’s right hand. O poor sinner, look unto Me! Look unto Me!”
When he had gone to about that length, and managed to spin out ten minutes or so he was at the end of his tether. Then he looked at me under the gallery, and I dare say, with so few present he knew me to be a stranger. Just fixing his eyes on me, as if he knew all my heart he said, “Young man, you look very miserable.” Well, I did, but I had not been accustomed to have remarks made from the pulpit on my personal appearance before. However, it was a good blow, struck right home. He continued, “and you always will be miserable—miserable in life, and miserable in death—if you don’t obey my text; but if you obey now, this moment, you will be saved.”
Then lifting up his hands, he shouted, as only a primitive Methodists could do, “Young man, look to Jesus Christ. Look! Look! Look! You have nothing to do but to look and live.” I saw at once the way of salvation. I know not what else he said—I did not take much notice of it—I was so possessed with that one thought. Like as when the brazen serpent was lifted up, the people only looked and were healed, so it was with me. I had been waiting to do fifty things, but when I heard that word, “Look!” What a charming word it seemed to me! Oh! I looked until I could have almost looked my eyes away.
There and then the cloud was gone, the darkness had rolled away, and that moment I saw the sun; and I could have risen that instant, and sung with the most enthusiastic of them, of the precious blood of Christ, and the simple faith which looks alone to him. . . . And now I can say—
E’er since by faith I saw the stream Thy flowing wounds supply, Redeeming love has been my theme, And Shall be till I die.
As we prepare for Easter, let us look--for the first time, and every day thereafter, with "the simple faith which looks alone to him."
We've settled in Saint Louis the last two years after a 10 year adventure in Asia. We have two daughters, 7 & 9, that are our constant joy and sanctification! We want to live life to the full--full of trust in God's goodness and rest in His infinite love.
