I was reading Exodus. Exodus 40, to be exact, all about how Moses set up the Tabernacle. How he hung a beautiful curtain to conceal the Ark of the Covenant, marking it "out of bounds" for anyone who was not properly purified. Because that was the Holy Place, the meeting place with God. It was the place where the Lord's presence was going to dwell - or at least, the symbol of His presence with Israel, as He is bigger than that room. It was the place the priest went to mediate with God on behalf of the people.
As I read, I found myself desperately wanting to go behind that curtain. To step into that room, away from the rest of the Tabernacle and worship in that Holy Place. I longed to go into the presence of the Lord, to bend knee at the Ark of the Covenant, to worship my God in the light of His lampstand, surrounded by the smell of the incense offering.
I felt as though I was there, in that camp of the Israelites. And for all my longing, I found my way barred. Barred from entering into my presence of my Lord and Saviour. For only the High Priest could enter in there, could worship in there.
And it hurt.
Not in the "I've been rejected" way, but in a deeper way. A raw sorrow, an ache, a desire for something more. And the sorrow was real. My way to God, I felt, was blocked by my own sinfulness. Because that's what the curtain was - an expression of a separation caused by human sinfulness. It was not there to protect God from us, from Israel. It was there to protect us, to protect Israel, from God's holiness.
And it was so... odd. So strange. I felt odd, off kilter. And whilst my head sought to remind me of Jesus and the curtain torn in two, I still felt sad I felt stuck in this camp. In that day. And I felt so sad. So very, very sad.
Because it wasn't right. It's not how it was ever meant to be.
And I wondered, if I had actually been there that day - not as an Israelite, but as me, a Child of God who trusts in the work of Jesus on the cross - if I had been there and had cried out to God, begging to stand in the Holy Place for just one minute, to worship Him there, would He have allowed it? Or would He have denied it? I had no answers.
But I felt, for the first time, I felt something of what it must be like to be barred from God at God's insistence, rather than my own stubbornness. All my life I have trusted in the One sacrifice that rent that curtain in two. For all my life I have called God Father, and been sure that He called me daughter. I may have avoided Him as a naughty child avoids their dad or mum from time to time. I may have worried that this time I've blown it. But I've never believed that the way to the Lord's throne room was closed to me.
But now, in my heart and mind, I found myself standing before the Holy Place and I found my way was barred by a curtain. A curtain placed there by His orders, not my own guilt. And the loneliness, the agony of separation, was deep. I did not even feel - sitting in my 21st century bed that I could call out to Him. That I could turn and see Him. And so I began to write. I wrote it all down.
But now my heart is pushing me to read Mark 15. And so I will.
The first thing I notice is the trial with Pilate. In Pilate's question "are you the King of the Jews?" I see something in a way I had never seen it before. Jesus is the God-Man. He is God become flesh, dwelling and interacting directly with humans. But the curtain has not yet been torn. The way to God is still barred. But here He is, standing amongst His people. He has stepped out from behind the curtain - as it were. He has left the Holy Place and joined the world.
He came to us!
He. Came. To. Us.
HE CAME TO US!!
Which is why this time of year - this celebration of His Incarnation - is so important. It is the celebration of the time God stepped out from behind the curtain and joined our world. Joined it not as a cruel, overbearing, powerful king as some might expect, but as a baby. One who would grow up somebodies son, somebodies brother, somebodies friend. One who would weep at the grave of His friend. One who would crack jokes with His friends. One who would live life with the common folk, the rejects. Yeah - that's a mighty fine thing to celebrate!
The second thing I notice is in the irony of the mockery the priests spit at Him. "He saved others, but He can't save Himself!" And for some reason, I'm reminded of that scene in Lord of the Rings when Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli go looking for those cursed souls that help them win the battle for Gondor. Along the way, the are repeatedly told "the way is closed, it is guarded by the dead" - until the dead realize that Aragorn is the one person who can save them.
I'm still not entirely sure why I was reminded of that, but I do know that the priest were mocking Jesus and His ability to save others. Not realizing that He was the One person who could reopen the way to God - saving many. And that He could only do it through His own death. And He did it. He died that death. And because of that, the curtain tears.
Not only did God Himself step out from behind the curtain, God Himself tore apart that curtain. He reopened the way to Himself for us - at great personal cost. And He tore apart that blasted dividing curtain.
And the final thing I noticed - the point I finished on - was verse 36. When the Roman Centurion (of all the people standing there!) understands something of what has happened. "This man truly was the Son of God". It's not the priests with all their Law and Old Testament history and prophecy who finally understand. It's not Jesus' friends and followers piecing together everything Jesus had said and done. It is the Roman officer charged with making sure He dies. He is the one who realizes that this man was no ordinary man and this death was no ordinary death.
And this tells me that not only was God the One who stepped out from behind the curtain, not only was He the One who tore the curtain up and opened the way, He is also the One who reveals the truth to us.
We can't think ourselves to Him. We can't feel ourselves to Him. We can't interpret the Scriptures to Him. He - and He alone - is the One who shows us the truth. Who reveals Himself to us. He is the One who invites us into the Holy Place and invites us to stay there forever.
And I am glad (so very glad!) that I live on this side of the Cross. I am glad that I live now. I am glad that I live in the time when the way is open, the separation is gone. The curtain is no longer barring the way into God's presence. The Holy Place is open for all who choose to enter.
I tried to return in my heart to that moment I had earlier. The one where I felt as though I stood in front of the curtain and longed to move past it. I wanted to see the curtain tear. But something stopped me. Probably God, because the curtain was already gone. And I was already in the presence of the Lord. Why return to then anyway?
And let me tell you, I danced and I sung. And my soul still cries out "Hallelujah! Praise and honour unto thee!"
Monday, 8 December 2014
Sunday, 2 November 2014
An Open Letter to my Sisters in Christ
Hey there, beautiful,
Yeah, I'm talking to you. Yes, you, beautiful woman. I was wondering if you'd like to join me for a bit of a heart to heart over a cup of apple cinnamon tea. And, just in case you were wondering, yes, I do have a mug of apple cinnamon tea here.
How are you? Are you doing well?
If you asked me that, my automatic response is probably "yeah, I'm fine". I'd probably add something about being tired. Is that yours too?
Isn't it funny how rarely we think about how we answer that question. Although, I guess we probably give it as much thought as the amount of sincerity from the asker normally demands.
But enough with the small talk. I'm going to cut right to the chase. I've invited you in to have this little heart to heart because I realized - once again - during the week, just how much the world is conspiring to make us feel worthless. And, yes, it's doing the same to men, but I'm not a man, so I'm not really in a position to speak to them.
But I can speak to you, my fellow women. Because I'm figuring (from my entire 18 - nearly 19 - years of experience) that what goes on in our hearts is not as different as what goes on in our lives.
And here's what I guess goes on in your hearts: some days, are fine. On these days it's easy to believe you are loved. Easy to believe that you are beautiful. Easy to believe that you are worth something - perhaps even more than your weight in gold.
Some days, though, some days are plain hard. On these days, it's easy to believe that not only are you not loved - you are unlovable. Easy to believe that not only are you not beautiful - you don't even rate on the passable scale, just the ugly one. Easy to believe that you are worth nothing - or less than nothing.
Believe me, I know. I really do know.
And, if you haven't experienced those hard days yet, I envy you. But it's been a good long while since I was naïve enough to believe you never will. And, beautiful, I want you to hear what I'm going to say now, and I want you to hear what I'm going to say then, and every single day of your life. Both the fine days and the hard days.
To the rest of you, I'm sue you know exactly what days I'm talking about.
For me, a hard day was triggered on Thursday. At a talk about pornography. As I sat listening to the statistics about porn (and the people who view it) I could feel my heart breaking, my eyes welling up and a little bit of a voice telling me "whatever makes you think you'll ever be good enough? Especially when you have to compete with that?" And my heart broke because I know the truth - but so few people do. My heart broke because the world just keeps throwing things in our faces to make us feel worthless.
And believe me, the world throws us everything.
The way we dress. (You're either too prudish or too slutty - seriously, if you try pleasing the world with the way you dress, you'll tick somebody off. Probably multiple somebodies.)
The things we like, the things we dislike. ("You're such a tomboy, why can't you be more girly?" "You're such a girly girl, why can't you be tougher"(??) "Oh my word... you like that??" "What do you mean you don't like this?")
The things we do - or don't do. ("Erm, stay at home mum? I thought we abolished that with the giving you the right to work." "You work? But don't you have kids to look after?")
Our relationship status. ("Don't you have a boyfriend yet?" "I could never imagine being tied to one person so young (early twenties alert)")
The quality of our work ("You're too smart" "You're not smart enough" "Can't you cook?")
The amount we worry about stuff ("Don't you care at all???" "Gee... calm down")
To list just a few of the things we getting measured against (am I getting a few nods - and maybe a chuckle of "oh yeah, I know that" yet?)
And that's just the things we get measured against.
Don't get me started on that friend who betrayed us. Or the abuser who took advantage of us. Or the person who pushed us into something we didn't want to do (and most definitely did not thank them for it later. Unless it was in very sarcastic tones for the counselling we've been through as a result). Or the husband who struggles with fidelity. Or the child who just never, ever obeys. Or whatever else has happened to you, is happening to you and will happen to you.
And it all just adds up. And really, it breaks my heart. And it isn't breaking my heart because it's true and what hope is there for womankind. Oh no, little miss, don't you ever think that's what breaks my heart. It breaks my heart because it is absolutely, most definitely not true. Never, ever, ever.
And here's why I invited you to this heart to heart over tea (even though it's taken me so long to get this words out that my tea got stone cold and all drunk up long ago): the world is just plain WRONG! And I said it on Thursday, to a friend who shared my pain. To a friend who knows the deep, intense pain of feeling inadequate:
One day, one day we will stand before God. And for the first time ever we will believe with every part of our being that we are loved, we are beautiful and we are of worth.
But until that day, we will struggle. We will struggle with those voices (those sometimes - often - overwhelming voices) that tell us we're not good enough. We're not pretty enough. And we're definitely not loved. And in that struggle, my darling, beloved women friends, I all we can do is cling to the truth: the truth that we are good enough - by the grace of God. We are pretty enough - by the grace of God. We are loved - by the grace of God.
And did you see that mug I had my tea in earlier? It's my favourite. Printed round and round again with those verses that's so important to remember - 2 Corinthians 12: 9 - 10. Go read them. Read them. And then, when you've read them, read John 3: 16. Go on, read it. Don't just summon it from memory. Read it. And the verses around it. And read 1 John. And, of course, Romans 8.
Always remember: we have worth because God has declared we have worth. We are beautiful, because God has declared we are beautiful. We are loved because God has chosen to love us. And really, who has the right to make that call? The created world or the Creator God?
Linked up with Coffee for Your Heart at http://holleygerth.com/
Yeah, I'm talking to you. Yes, you, beautiful woman. I was wondering if you'd like to join me for a bit of a heart to heart over a cup of apple cinnamon tea. And, just in case you were wondering, yes, I do have a mug of apple cinnamon tea here.
How are you? Are you doing well?
If you asked me that, my automatic response is probably "yeah, I'm fine". I'd probably add something about being tired. Is that yours too?
Isn't it funny how rarely we think about how we answer that question. Although, I guess we probably give it as much thought as the amount of sincerity from the asker normally demands.
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But enough with the small talk. I'm going to cut right to the chase. I've invited you in to have this little heart to heart because I realized - once again - during the week, just how much the world is conspiring to make us feel worthless. And, yes, it's doing the same to men, but I'm not a man, so I'm not really in a position to speak to them.
But I can speak to you, my fellow women. Because I'm figuring (from my entire 18 - nearly 19 - years of experience) that what goes on in our hearts is not as different as what goes on in our lives.
And here's what I guess goes on in your hearts: some days, are fine. On these days it's easy to believe you are loved. Easy to believe that you are beautiful. Easy to believe that you are worth something - perhaps even more than your weight in gold.
Some days, though, some days are plain hard. On these days, it's easy to believe that not only are you not loved - you are unlovable. Easy to believe that not only are you not beautiful - you don't even rate on the passable scale, just the ugly one. Easy to believe that you are worth nothing - or less than nothing.
Believe me, I know. I really do know.
And, if you haven't experienced those hard days yet, I envy you. But it's been a good long while since I was naïve enough to believe you never will. And, beautiful, I want you to hear what I'm going to say now, and I want you to hear what I'm going to say then, and every single day of your life. Both the fine days and the hard days.
To the rest of you, I'm sue you know exactly what days I'm talking about.
For me, a hard day was triggered on Thursday. At a talk about pornography. As I sat listening to the statistics about porn (and the people who view it) I could feel my heart breaking, my eyes welling up and a little bit of a voice telling me "whatever makes you think you'll ever be good enough? Especially when you have to compete with that?" And my heart broke because I know the truth - but so few people do. My heart broke because the world just keeps throwing things in our faces to make us feel worthless.
And believe me, the world throws us everything.
The way we dress. (You're either too prudish or too slutty - seriously, if you try pleasing the world with the way you dress, you'll tick somebody off. Probably multiple somebodies.)
The things we like, the things we dislike. ("You're such a tomboy, why can't you be more girly?" "You're such a girly girl, why can't you be tougher"(??) "Oh my word... you like that??" "What do you mean you don't like this?")
The things we do - or don't do. ("Erm, stay at home mum? I thought we abolished that with the giving you the right to work." "You work? But don't you have kids to look after?")
Our relationship status. ("Don't you have a boyfriend yet?" "I could never imagine being tied to one person so young (early twenties alert)")
The quality of our work ("You're too smart" "You're not smart enough" "Can't you cook?")
The amount we worry about stuff ("Don't you care at all???" "Gee... calm down")
To list just a few of the things we getting measured against (am I getting a few nods - and maybe a chuckle of "oh yeah, I know that" yet?)
And that's just the things we get measured against.
And it all just adds up. And really, it breaks my heart. And it isn't breaking my heart because it's true and what hope is there for womankind. Oh no, little miss, don't you ever think that's what breaks my heart. It breaks my heart because it is absolutely, most definitely not true. Never, ever, ever.
And here's why I invited you to this heart to heart over tea (even though it's taken me so long to get this words out that my tea got stone cold and all drunk up long ago): the world is just plain WRONG! And I said it on Thursday, to a friend who shared my pain. To a friend who knows the deep, intense pain of feeling inadequate:
One day, one day we will stand before God. And for the first time ever we will believe with every part of our being that we are loved, we are beautiful and we are of worth.
But until that day, we will struggle. We will struggle with those voices (those sometimes - often - overwhelming voices) that tell us we're not good enough. We're not pretty enough. And we're definitely not loved. And in that struggle, my darling, beloved women friends, I all we can do is cling to the truth: the truth that we are good enough - by the grace of God. We are pretty enough - by the grace of God. We are loved - by the grace of God.
And did you see that mug I had my tea in earlier? It's my favourite. Printed round and round again with those verses that's so important to remember - 2 Corinthians 12: 9 - 10. Go read them. Read them. And then, when you've read them, read John 3: 16. Go on, read it. Don't just summon it from memory. Read it. And the verses around it. And read 1 John. And, of course, Romans 8.
Always remember: we have worth because God has declared we have worth. We are beautiful, because God has declared we are beautiful. We are loved because God has chosen to love us. And really, who has the right to make that call? The created world or the Creator God?
And, I know I've rambled. But I hope that something I've said has touched you. Feel free to contact me if you have questions or comments. Because you are so wonderful, beautiful and loved. And as hard as it is to remember, it's true. Not because I said so, but because GOD said so.
With love,
Laura Ruth
Linked up with Coffee for Your Heart at http://holleygerth.com/
Tuesday, 28 October 2014
Unadoptable?
So, I'm a massive fan of Laura Ingalls Wilder and her story. I always have been. She shared my name and her life was one of adventure - why wouldn't that appeal to a young girl? So, when I noticed that some friends of mine had some of the seasons of the Michael Landon's TV series adaption of the books, I immediately asked to borrow them.
Today, I was watching some episodes - right about season 5 (please note: the seasons I have borrowed are incomplete, I've only got about half of the first five seasons, so being at season 5 is not actually impressive) - when I noticed two of the actors shared a fairly unusual surname. I was intrigued. Clearly, they were related. Maybe even twins, they looked close enough in age for it not to be unlikely. So I went looking.
And I'm very glad I did. Because the history I found for them was far more interesting, and far more touching, than just being twins. And it's been bringing a smile to my face all day.
Patrick and Matthew Labyorteaux (usually spelt with the 'y' dropped) are the adopted sons of Ron and Frankie Labyorteaux. Which, is cool enough, after all, two people deciding that they had enough love to share with children "not their own" seems to be an increasingly rare thing. But as I kept reading, I discovered something else very quickly:
Both boys had been, at a very early age, deemed to be unadoptable.
I am unsure, from what I've read, whether it was at three weeks or three months that Patrick was diagnosed as being psychotic. He couldn't keep food down and was nervous around people. So, yeah, the agency figured nobody would ever want him. It was not long after that Ron and Frankie came along. They were looking for an older boy who hadn't yet had a chance at adoption (this is the group that finds it the hardest to be adopted), but in the process, they heard about this unadoptable baby boy and decided to adopt him.
Within two years, Patrick was far enough along that his parents decided to adopt another child. This time, it was 10 month old Matthew. He had a hole in his heart, was autistic and a liking for temper tantrums. Few of the doctors held out hope that he would ever be "normal". He didn't learn to walk until he was three. He didn't speak until he was 5. And there were always the tantrums. I've heard of people who have walked away from their adoptive children (even their biological children) for less.
And yet, Ron and Frankie decided to stick it out. I saw an interview with Frankie where she is quoted as saying "spent months on the floor with Matthew screaming and me holding him down telling him that no matter what he did I would love him". Then Patrick started acting therapy. He began working on commercials. At one of his auditions, Matthew was asked if he wanted to test too. And so began their acting career. From all accounts, the acting worked wonders for them. Both boys went from being shy, to being confident. And Matthew learnt to control his temper.
Matthew is now the most prolific actor of the two, and Patrick is married. They may not be super famous, or celebrities (although, they appear to have come close to this status during their Little House days), but if you'd told the agencies looking after them as babies where they'd end up, you would probably have been laughed at. These unadoptable baby boys have grown to be men with successful, love-filled (from all appearances) lives. And all because two people decided that they were worth more than others thought and chose to extend love to them.
I think you can probably see why their story has brought a smile to my face. But I'm not sharing it with you just because it is a sweet story. I'm sharing it with you because as my mind has been turning this story over, I began to notice something.
It's so very familiar.
Troublesome kids considered to be unadoptable and not worth much, given a second chance at life? Shown unconditional love and support from people who owed them nothing? If you haven't yet twigged to the fact that I began to see myself (and the rest of the human race) in Baby Pat and Baby Matt, and that I began to see something of God in Ron and Frankie, we might have a bit of a problem.
But really, the parallel was just too strong to miss. After all, there I was, a rebellious, sinful human being who wants nothing to do with the God who Created her and is only hurting herself. Who any righteous and holy person could quite justly cast aside - and most definitely would not adopt - when boom! along comes the aforementioned God who Created her (and everything else), and adopts her. At an enormous personal price. Then, while I'm busy kicking, screaming and having a right old tantrum, there He is, holding me and telling me that no matter what I do, He will always love me.
And so, I don't know about you, but today, I'll be going to bed with a smile on my face. Not just because across the world, may decades ago, two loving and compassionate people adopted two unadoptable boys and never gave up on them. I will be going to bed with a smile on my face because of what the story of this family has reminded me about God. His character and His love for me.
I will be going to bed grateful because God adopted the unadoptable, loved the unlovable, and declared worthy what would otherwise have been unworthy. I will be going to be grateful because God is no petty mortal (or Greek god) that He would be turned aside by my foolishness and faithlessness. I will be going to bed grateful because God is God and
"those [he] foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his son, that he might be firstborn among many brothers and sisters. And those he predestined, he also called; and those he called, he also justified; those he justified, he also glorified" (Romans 8: 29 -30 - go read the rest).
Today, I was watching some episodes - right about season 5 (please note: the seasons I have borrowed are incomplete, I've only got about half of the first five seasons, so being at season 5 is not actually impressive) - when I noticed two of the actors shared a fairly unusual surname. I was intrigued. Clearly, they were related. Maybe even twins, they looked close enough in age for it not to be unlikely. So I went looking.
And I'm very glad I did. Because the history I found for them was far more interesting, and far more touching, than just being twins. And it's been bringing a smile to my face all day.
Patrick and Matthew Labyorteaux (usually spelt with the 'y' dropped) are the adopted sons of Ron and Frankie Labyorteaux. Which, is cool enough, after all, two people deciding that they had enough love to share with children "not their own" seems to be an increasingly rare thing. But as I kept reading, I discovered something else very quickly:
Both boys had been, at a very early age, deemed to be unadoptable.
I am unsure, from what I've read, whether it was at three weeks or three months that Patrick was diagnosed as being psychotic. He couldn't keep food down and was nervous around people. So, yeah, the agency figured nobody would ever want him. It was not long after that Ron and Frankie came along. They were looking for an older boy who hadn't yet had a chance at adoption (this is the group that finds it the hardest to be adopted), but in the process, they heard about this unadoptable baby boy and decided to adopt him.
Within two years, Patrick was far enough along that his parents decided to adopt another child. This time, it was 10 month old Matthew. He had a hole in his heart, was autistic and a liking for temper tantrums. Few of the doctors held out hope that he would ever be "normal". He didn't learn to walk until he was three. He didn't speak until he was 5. And there were always the tantrums. I've heard of people who have walked away from their adoptive children (even their biological children) for less.
And yet, Ron and Frankie decided to stick it out. I saw an interview with Frankie where she is quoted as saying "spent months on the floor with Matthew screaming and me holding him down telling him that no matter what he did I would love him". Then Patrick started acting therapy. He began working on commercials. At one of his auditions, Matthew was asked if he wanted to test too. And so began their acting career. From all accounts, the acting worked wonders for them. Both boys went from being shy, to being confident. And Matthew learnt to control his temper.
Matthew is now the most prolific actor of the two, and Patrick is married. They may not be super famous, or celebrities (although, they appear to have come close to this status during their Little House days), but if you'd told the agencies looking after them as babies where they'd end up, you would probably have been laughed at. These unadoptable baby boys have grown to be men with successful, love-filled (from all appearances) lives. And all because two people decided that they were worth more than others thought and chose to extend love to them.
I think you can probably see why their story has brought a smile to my face. But I'm not sharing it with you just because it is a sweet story. I'm sharing it with you because as my mind has been turning this story over, I began to notice something.
It's so very familiar.
Troublesome kids considered to be unadoptable and not worth much, given a second chance at life? Shown unconditional love and support from people who owed them nothing? If you haven't yet twigged to the fact that I began to see myself (and the rest of the human race) in Baby Pat and Baby Matt, and that I began to see something of God in Ron and Frankie, we might have a bit of a problem.
But really, the parallel was just too strong to miss. After all, there I was, a rebellious, sinful human being who wants nothing to do with the God who Created her and is only hurting herself. Who any righteous and holy person could quite justly cast aside - and most definitely would not adopt - when boom! along comes the aforementioned God who Created her (and everything else), and adopts her. At an enormous personal price. Then, while I'm busy kicking, screaming and having a right old tantrum, there He is, holding me and telling me that no matter what I do, He will always love me.
And so, I don't know about you, but today, I'll be going to bed with a smile on my face. Not just because across the world, may decades ago, two loving and compassionate people adopted two unadoptable boys and never gave up on them. I will be going to bed with a smile on my face because of what the story of this family has reminded me about God. His character and His love for me.
I will be going to bed grateful because God adopted the unadoptable, loved the unlovable, and declared worthy what would otherwise have been unworthy. I will be going to be grateful because God is no petty mortal (or Greek god) that He would be turned aside by my foolishness and faithlessness. I will be going to bed grateful because God is God and
"those [he] foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his son, that he might be firstborn among many brothers and sisters. And those he predestined, he also called; and those he called, he also justified; those he justified, he also glorified" (Romans 8: 29 -30 - go read the rest).
Saturday, 25 October 2014
A Note From the Heart to Some Newly Weds
You two got married today. I can't quite believe it. But at the same time, I am ridiculously happy for you both.
I mentioned to someone today that I remembered that very first "it's not a date!", Brushy, and how you were teased mercilessly that it was. I guess, in some ways, you were all right. After all, it ended with wedding vows today.
No, not ended. It led to this new stepping stone, this new beginning for you both. Oh! I'm so very happy!
My dear sister, it was a joy to spend the last three years of high school with you. To sit in class and see the "I don't know how to respond to this" expressions from our French teachers as you and Amber combed each others hair with forks or staged coups in Biology. To sit under Stath's guidance in Bible study and discuss the word of God. And to go on missions with you was such a great privilege! Your gentle, loving, wisdom and your godliness and desire to see God glorified have been an encouragement for me to witness. I know that you are God's and that He will see you safely home. And, my word, didn't you just look spectacular today?!
As for your husband, he has gone from being your faceless boyfriend to a man I respect and fully believe will holdfast to his faith. It was a privilege to get to know you at the beginning of the year, Jake, and knowing you I can celebrate your marriage to Brushy (although, I guess we can't really call her that any more) with even more joy. Because I know that you (both of you) will work to have Christ at the centre of your lives and your family.
And so, there isn't really too much else to say but this: congratulations, my beloved brother and sister in Christ. I pray that you will walk with God always and grow together until the final day. May your marriage come through the fires of life stronger and more secure. May you always treasure it as the gift from God it is - even on the days when you wonder if you should have ever made those vows! And may your children (if and when you have them) know Christ as Lord, Saviour and Brother.
With all my love,
May God bless you richly in His love for you and your love for each other,
Laura Ruth
I mentioned to someone today that I remembered that very first "it's not a date!", Brushy, and how you were teased mercilessly that it was. I guess, in some ways, you were all right. After all, it ended with wedding vows today.
No, not ended. It led to this new stepping stone, this new beginning for you both. Oh! I'm so very happy!
My dear sister, it was a joy to spend the last three years of high school with you. To sit in class and see the "I don't know how to respond to this" expressions from our French teachers as you and Amber combed each others hair with forks or staged coups in Biology. To sit under Stath's guidance in Bible study and discuss the word of God. And to go on missions with you was such a great privilege! Your gentle, loving, wisdom and your godliness and desire to see God glorified have been an encouragement for me to witness. I know that you are God's and that He will see you safely home. And, my word, didn't you just look spectacular today?!
As for your husband, he has gone from being your faceless boyfriend to a man I respect and fully believe will holdfast to his faith. It was a privilege to get to know you at the beginning of the year, Jake, and knowing you I can celebrate your marriage to Brushy (although, I guess we can't really call her that any more) with even more joy. Because I know that you (both of you) will work to have Christ at the centre of your lives and your family.
And so, there isn't really too much else to say but this: congratulations, my beloved brother and sister in Christ. I pray that you will walk with God always and grow together until the final day. May your marriage come through the fires of life stronger and more secure. May you always treasure it as the gift from God it is - even on the days when you wonder if you should have ever made those vows! And may your children (if and when you have them) know Christ as Lord, Saviour and Brother.
With all my love,
May God bless you richly in His love for you and your love for each other,
Laura Ruth
Sunday, 28 September 2014
By the Grace of God
It's been one of those weeks.
Well, it's been whole months of them. But these last two weeks have been "one of those weeks" even more so than usual.
One of those weeks when "chin up and charge the mountain" is a distant rallying cry scratched down on a piece of paper and looks really good sitting there, all inked up and fancy-like but just isn't possible. One of those weeks when keeping "head down and keep ploughing" is the painful reality.
Keep your head down, blink back the tears, push down the pain. "Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know." (Frozen, anyone?) Keep your head down and do your job. Sweep that floor, hug that child, answer that text, make that phone call. I know it hurts, but, honey, you've got to keep on loving because if you can't do that, then you're not worth the love others give you. (Cue the cracking whip).
And Sunday last week I sent a friend a text, my heart was there and was screaming in pain. I begged her and her husband to pray for me. It was a whisper. A loud one full of desperation. I'll share it with you here, cause I don't think I'm the only one who feels this way:
And all week, both sermons, I've heard since then. Books and blog posts that I've read, they all say the same thing:
I can't be good enough. Ever. Never, ever, ever will what I do be good enough.
That's the bad news.
But right on its heels comes the Good News: I don't have to be... Jesus did that for me. God who became a baby, who became a man who died and returned to life, defeating death and sin - yeah, Him, He covers all my flaws, all my inadequacies and He makes my life an offering worthy of God. All I have to do is give it to Him.
And today, today I read these words and they've been ringing around my head all morning. I've shared them with my mother, my friends. Because it's something I hadn't realized before, and, oh boy is it freeing. Cause Holley Gerth she got it right when she typed these words out:
And sure, it'll be head down and keep on working many days - because life is hard. But life doesn't have to be a burden. Not when the grace of God is coming down in torrents.
Well, it's been whole months of them. But these last two weeks have been "one of those weeks" even more so than usual.
One of those weeks when "chin up and charge the mountain" is a distant rallying cry scratched down on a piece of paper and looks really good sitting there, all inked up and fancy-like but just isn't possible. One of those weeks when keeping "head down and keep ploughing" is the painful reality.
Keep your head down, blink back the tears, push down the pain. "Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know." (Frozen, anyone?) Keep your head down and do your job. Sweep that floor, hug that child, answer that text, make that phone call. I know it hurts, but, honey, you've got to keep on loving because if you can't do that, then you're not worth the love others give you. (Cue the cracking whip).
And Sunday last week I sent a friend a text, my heart was there and was screaming in pain. I begged her and her husband to pray for me. It was a whisper. A loud one full of desperation. I'll share it with you here, cause I don't think I'm the only one who feels this way:
I've been feeling very tired in the bone weary, muscle aching, head empty, shoulders weighed down kind of way. And God keeps telling me to let it all go, but I don't know how, and if I did, I don't know if I could. I'm just... I feel like I'm carrying a burden so heavy it is forcing me to my knees in the mud and on the one hand I have a hideous task master cracking a whip and pushing me to keep going. And on the other hand, I have God telling me He has cut the straps and I can just up and walk away and into His arms. And there are moments when I can feel it happening. Moments when the burden is eased. But then something will happen. The whip will crack and the burden will come back in full weight and I'll feel trapped and the worse for knowing the taste of freedom.You all know what I'm talking about, right?
And all week, both sermons, I've heard since then. Books and blog posts that I've read, they all say the same thing:
I can't be good enough. Ever. Never, ever, ever will what I do be good enough.
That's the bad news.
But right on its heels comes the Good News: I don't have to be... Jesus did that for me. God who became a baby, who became a man who died and returned to life, defeating death and sin - yeah, Him, He covers all my flaws, all my inadequacies and He makes my life an offering worthy of God. All I have to do is give it to Him.
And today, today I read these words and they've been ringing around my head all morning. I've shared them with my mother, my friends. Because it's something I hadn't realized before, and, oh boy is it freeing. Cause Holley Gerth she got it right when she typed these words out:
You can't disappoint God, because disappointment is about expectations. And expectations are about an unknown future. But God already knows everything, so He doesn't have expectations.And if I don't need to worry about being a disappointment to God, why should I worry about being a disappointment to man?
And sure, it'll be head down and keep on working many days - because life is hard. But life doesn't have to be a burden. Not when the grace of God is coming down in torrents.
Friday, 5 September 2014
Justice, Injustice and the State of the World
Have you ever wondered why the rape victim gets blamed for it? Or why they blame themselves? I have.
Have you ever wondered why a bully victim is told to "just toughen up and they'll back off" as though it somehow their fault the bully chose to target them? I have.
And have you ever wondered why an abused spouse gets so little support from so many people? I definitely have.
Did you wonder, as I did, reading about the Rotherham report why the police looked the other way? Or why sex abuse victims of Asian background stay silent because of the shame they'll bring on their family?
Or do you hear about the recent sex crimes (let's call it like it is) against celebrities such as Jennifer Lawrence and wonder why on earth everybody is blaming her? I did.
Then I read an article on Psychology Today addressing exactly that issue. Are we blaming the famous victims of the nude photo thefts? And, after I read it, I understood the world a little bit more. And saw more clearly just what the affects of sin has had on the world.
Turns out, there's this thing called the Just World Phenomenon. This is essentially our instinctive belief (or need to believe) that the world is a just and fair place. Humans have such a strong reaction against injustice that in order to create the perception of justice, they find reasons to blame the victims of injustice. The greater the injustice, the stronger the reaction of blaming the victim. This, therefore, eradicates the injustice of the world and everything is right and fair and proper again.
Except that it isn't. Because children are still being abused. Women (and men) are still being taken advantage of. Private property is still being stolen. And now, not only is the unjust act happening, it is also being encouraged as people look the other or blame the victim.
And the great irony of this entire phenomenon is that the very desire for justice, the need for justice, is what causes some of the greatest injustices.
It's what says that prostitutes must enjoy their work or they would leave - allowing extreme sexual, emotional, psychological and spiritual abuse to continue unchecked. It's what leaves abused husbands and wives trapped in their abusive circumstances. It's what leaves a child feeling drained and empty as they are being bullied - because let me tell you, as someone who spent years of my life being bullied, it is the thought that you deserve what is happening to you that hurts the most. As though somehow my white skin, funny accent, strange religion and intelligence gave the bully a license to bully me.
And here's what I have realized: it is only when we recognize that the world is an unjust place that justice can be served. It is only when we can wrap our heads around the contradiction that is our world - the belief in the existence of justice and the undeniable presence of injustice - that we can begin to heal the wounds of the hurting.
Because it's true - justice is a fundamental part of the design of the world. Injustice was never the intention of our Creator. I'm starting to think that the longing for, the desire for, justice is part of what it means to be created in His image. Our world was designed to be a place of justice. And humans were designed to be just and fair.
Only something went very, very wrong. One split second of desiring something more than perfection has led to a whole world of imperfection. One split second of desiring something more than justice has lead to a whole world of injustice. We sinned. And the world became an unjust place. And people became an unjust people.
And so we can understand a little more of the state of the world. We were designed for justice, so we long for it and see the world through the lens of "is this just?" But we sinned, so we live in the middle of injustice, dishing out injustice.
But, hey! Good news. Our perfectly just God will do something about all the injustice. It hurts Him even more than it hurts us. He will rectify injustice. He will bring justice to all those who perpetrated injustice. He will punish them, severely.
But in His perfect justice, He is also perfectly merciful. So He has provided an escape from His punishment. By passing the punishment to One who did not deserve it. To Jesus. Injustice merits death. Just Jesus died (and then came back to life!) so that unjust humans could live. And this escape? It is sufficient for everyone. But it is efficient only for those who choose to take it.
And it's when we realize that a) the world is unjust, b) justice will be served and c) mercy has been given that we can begin to heal the wounds of injustice. Because we're not pointing fingers or pretending that injustice doesn't exist. Instead, we're acknowledging that injustice is rampant - and offering the solution.
Have you ever wondered why a bully victim is told to "just toughen up and they'll back off" as though it somehow their fault the bully chose to target them? I have.
And have you ever wondered why an abused spouse gets so little support from so many people? I definitely have.
Did you wonder, as I did, reading about the Rotherham report why the police looked the other way? Or why sex abuse victims of Asian background stay silent because of the shame they'll bring on their family?
Or do you hear about the recent sex crimes (let's call it like it is) against celebrities such as Jennifer Lawrence and wonder why on earth everybody is blaming her? I did.
Then I read an article on Psychology Today addressing exactly that issue. Are we blaming the famous victims of the nude photo thefts? And, after I read it, I understood the world a little bit more. And saw more clearly just what the affects of sin has had on the world.
Turns out, there's this thing called the Just World Phenomenon. This is essentially our instinctive belief (or need to believe) that the world is a just and fair place. Humans have such a strong reaction against injustice that in order to create the perception of justice, they find reasons to blame the victims of injustice. The greater the injustice, the stronger the reaction of blaming the victim. This, therefore, eradicates the injustice of the world and everything is right and fair and proper again.
Except that it isn't. Because children are still being abused. Women (and men) are still being taken advantage of. Private property is still being stolen. And now, not only is the unjust act happening, it is also being encouraged as people look the other or blame the victim.
And the great irony of this entire phenomenon is that the very desire for justice, the need for justice, is what causes some of the greatest injustices.
It's what says that prostitutes must enjoy their work or they would leave - allowing extreme sexual, emotional, psychological and spiritual abuse to continue unchecked. It's what leaves abused husbands and wives trapped in their abusive circumstances. It's what leaves a child feeling drained and empty as they are being bullied - because let me tell you, as someone who spent years of my life being bullied, it is the thought that you deserve what is happening to you that hurts the most. As though somehow my white skin, funny accent, strange religion and intelligence gave the bully a license to bully me.
And here's what I have realized: it is only when we recognize that the world is an unjust place that justice can be served. It is only when we can wrap our heads around the contradiction that is our world - the belief in the existence of justice and the undeniable presence of injustice - that we can begin to heal the wounds of the hurting.
Because it's true - justice is a fundamental part of the design of the world. Injustice was never the intention of our Creator. I'm starting to think that the longing for, the desire for, justice is part of what it means to be created in His image. Our world was designed to be a place of justice. And humans were designed to be just and fair.
Only something went very, very wrong. One split second of desiring something more than perfection has led to a whole world of imperfection. One split second of desiring something more than justice has lead to a whole world of injustice. We sinned. And the world became an unjust place. And people became an unjust people.
And so we can understand a little more of the state of the world. We were designed for justice, so we long for it and see the world through the lens of "is this just?" But we sinned, so we live in the middle of injustice, dishing out injustice.
But, hey! Good news. Our perfectly just God will do something about all the injustice. It hurts Him even more than it hurts us. He will rectify injustice. He will bring justice to all those who perpetrated injustice. He will punish them, severely.
But in His perfect justice, He is also perfectly merciful. So He has provided an escape from His punishment. By passing the punishment to One who did not deserve it. To Jesus. Injustice merits death. Just Jesus died (and then came back to life!) so that unjust humans could live. And this escape? It is sufficient for everyone. But it is efficient only for those who choose to take it.
And it's when we realize that a) the world is unjust, b) justice will be served and c) mercy has been given that we can begin to heal the wounds of injustice. Because we're not pointing fingers or pretending that injustice doesn't exist. Instead, we're acknowledging that injustice is rampant - and offering the solution.
Thursday, 4 September 2014
Safe Water September
Clean water is a rather remarkable thing. It allows us to keep our bodies, clothes, dishes and houses germ and disease - well, not entirely free, but mostly free. Cold water on a hot day is delicious. Hot water as tea or coffee provides us with the energy boost we need. Our food is often cooked using water - and we all know how important food is!
In my house, if I open the fridge, I'll find a bottle of clean water. If I open the freezer, I'd find clean water frozen as ice. If I turn on any tap, clean water comes gushing out. And the pool outside is filled with the clean water. Or it would be clean if it was maintained more regularly.
For this reason, I think clean water is a gift from God. But one that is taken too much for granted.
750, 000, 000 people in the world have absolutely no access to clean water. 750, 000, 000 people.
That statistic is staggering. Especially when I think about how freely clean water is available to me. And I do believe that it is an unacceptably high statistic.
Our world is not water pour. Here in the west, we take clean water for granted, so we waste most of it. And right there is the great injustice of the issue. One which I believe God is asking us to address.
For that reason, I have decided to partake in Safe Water September. What this means is I will be going for the entire month of September (and the first 4 days of October) not drinking anything except water. (Which means no tea for me...) But I fully believe it is worth it.
As I spend this month abstaining from all beverages except water, I will ask you, my dear friends, to be sponsoring me. The money you donate will go to Embody who will use the money to provide men, women and children in Zimbabwe with clean water. Every $20 that is raised will give one more person access to clean water.
This will dramatically improve their standard of living. From something as practical as water collection no longer sucking hours of their time to improving their health as germs, viruses and worms in dirty water are removed from their diets.
With this in mind, I am starting with a fundraising goal of $500. I fully believe that through the generosity of my friends and family and the graciousness of God, we can achieve (and even exceed) this goal. In order to donate, head over here. As all the money is going to a central fund, it would be awesome if you could write my name in the comment section of your donation to let them know that you are sponsoring me. This will help us to keep track of how much we are raising.
Thank you so much in advance for your generosity!
In my house, if I open the fridge, I'll find a bottle of clean water. If I open the freezer, I'd find clean water frozen as ice. If I turn on any tap, clean water comes gushing out. And the pool outside is filled with the clean water. Or it would be clean if it was maintained more regularly.
For this reason, I think clean water is a gift from God. But one that is taken too much for granted.
750, 000, 000 people in the world have absolutely no access to clean water. 750, 000, 000 people.
That statistic is staggering. Especially when I think about how freely clean water is available to me. And I do believe that it is an unacceptably high statistic.
Our world is not water pour. Here in the west, we take clean water for granted, so we waste most of it. And right there is the great injustice of the issue. One which I believe God is asking us to address.
For that reason, I have decided to partake in Safe Water September. What this means is I will be going for the entire month of September (and the first 4 days of October) not drinking anything except water. (Which means no tea for me...) But I fully believe it is worth it.
As I spend this month abstaining from all beverages except water, I will ask you, my dear friends, to be sponsoring me. The money you donate will go to Embody who will use the money to provide men, women and children in Zimbabwe with clean water. Every $20 that is raised will give one more person access to clean water.
This will dramatically improve their standard of living. From something as practical as water collection no longer sucking hours of their time to improving their health as germs, viruses and worms in dirty water are removed from their diets.
With this in mind, I am starting with a fundraising goal of $500. I fully believe that through the generosity of my friends and family and the graciousness of God, we can achieve (and even exceed) this goal. In order to donate, head over here. As all the money is going to a central fund, it would be awesome if you could write my name in the comment section of your donation to let them know that you are sponsoring me. This will help us to keep track of how much we are raising.
Thank you so much in advance for your generosity!
“Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me." ~ Matthew 25: 34 - 40
Sunday, 31 August 2014
A Future Burning Bright with Hope
There are moments when God's timing simply blows me away.
Moments when His goodness, grace and sovereignty catch me off guard, re-shape my thinking and opens up whole new possibilities. Moments where He tells me to stop worrying, that He has my future in His hands and even blesses me with a glimpse of what it may look like - so long as I keep on saying yes to Him.
The past week and a half have been a struggle for me. Talks on and discussions about marriage and singleness and having families made it abundantly clear that God was asking me to do more than just entrust my choice of husband to Him: He was asking me to put my dream of a husband in a drawer - potentially permanently.
Which also meant putting my dreams of bearing my own children in a drawer.
Now, before you all jump on whatever bandwagon it is you're about to jump on, let me explain.
I've known for a while now that there is a call on my life to live and serve in places that are dangerous to people it would be dangerous to associate with. And, to be perfectly honest, the thinking of the last few weeks has not been knew thinking - this has just been the first time I haven't skirted the issue. The first time I have had to really face the matter - and all that it entails - head on. And deal with the consequences.
And yes, the pain.
Do I want a family? Yes.
Do I want a husband? Yes.
Do I want to hear my children's first cries? See their first steps? Hold them as they cry? Yearn to soothe their teething pains? Deal with their broken hearts? Teach them about what it means to live - and to live as a child of God? Yes, oh yes!
But far more than that, I want to serve God. I want to be free to go where He calls me, when He calls me.
And I'm not giving up my those dreams - just putting them in a drawer. They're still there. And I firmly believe that if God chooses to, He will fulfill them. But, as a friend of mine said, if there is a man God wants me to marry, I will not be able to avoiding meeting Him just because I choose to serve God first. And serving God does come first.
Still, even knowing that God does come first and that He might still fulfill those dreams, the past few days have been a struggle. I have been in tears at least once and come close to them more than once at the thought that I might never be a mother. I might never be a wife. (Because surely it's better to realize that, process and embrace it now than to turn around in 20 years time and be bitter about not having anything? Surely life will be the sweeter whatever happens if I don't expect those particular gifts. Because they are gifts, not entitlements.)
Then, yesterday afternoon, I walk into my bedroom to see that Mum had bought me a book I'd been eying off for months - Kisses from Katie.
And as I read those words, as I read the story of that woman not much older than me - the same age as me when she first set out - who just said yes to God, who just keeps on saying yes, and the crazy, out-of-this-world way God has used her simple yes to transform hundreds of lives. Her own included. The way that 18 year old just out of high school wound up as a 26 year old with 13 adopted girls (or more) and the founder of an entire ministry in the villages of Uganda. How the girl who gave up her dreams, her boyfriend, her friends, found herself living a dream far more wondrous and more fulfilling than anything she could have dared imagine. As I read about all that; I realize something:
The friend who held me after my confession of heart break over the weeks realisation was right: I will always be a mother.
I will always be a mother because there will always be people who need to know the love of a mother and I have that love and a reason to give it to them. I have a Father telling me to love the orphan because He loves them. Because He loves them and He wants them to know that, but how can they if they've never known love?
And all I have to do is keep saying yes. To keep saying yes to loving the people right in front of me. To keep saying yes to loving people I've never yet met. To keep saying yes to loving God. To just keep saying yes to God.
My life will go to places far greater and far more beautiful than I could ever have imagined. Because the very centre of God's will is wondrous.
And a sense of deep peace fills my soul. No, more than that, a sense of deep, wild, excited joy, of glee fills me up.
And that crazy girl from Nashville, Tennessee and her 13 Ugandan children teach me a lesson about living solely for God: the joy, the sheer, inexplicable, all-consuming joy of obeying God far outweighs the pain of any sacrifices that are made along the way.
Moments when His goodness, grace and sovereignty catch me off guard, re-shape my thinking and opens up whole new possibilities. Moments where He tells me to stop worrying, that He has my future in His hands and even blesses me with a glimpse of what it may look like - so long as I keep on saying yes to Him.
The past week and a half have been a struggle for me. Talks on and discussions about marriage and singleness and having families made it abundantly clear that God was asking me to do more than just entrust my choice of husband to Him: He was asking me to put my dream of a husband in a drawer - potentially permanently.
Which also meant putting my dreams of bearing my own children in a drawer.
Now, before you all jump on whatever bandwagon it is you're about to jump on, let me explain.
I've known for a while now that there is a call on my life to live and serve in places that are dangerous to people it would be dangerous to associate with. And, to be perfectly honest, the thinking of the last few weeks has not been knew thinking - this has just been the first time I haven't skirted the issue. The first time I have had to really face the matter - and all that it entails - head on. And deal with the consequences.
And yes, the pain.
Do I want a family? Yes.
Do I want a husband? Yes.
Do I want to hear my children's first cries? See their first steps? Hold them as they cry? Yearn to soothe their teething pains? Deal with their broken hearts? Teach them about what it means to live - and to live as a child of God? Yes, oh yes!
But far more than that, I want to serve God. I want to be free to go where He calls me, when He calls me.
And I'm not giving up my those dreams - just putting them in a drawer. They're still there. And I firmly believe that if God chooses to, He will fulfill them. But, as a friend of mine said, if there is a man God wants me to marry, I will not be able to avoiding meeting Him just because I choose to serve God first. And serving God does come first.
Still, even knowing that God does come first and that He might still fulfill those dreams, the past few days have been a struggle. I have been in tears at least once and come close to them more than once at the thought that I might never be a mother. I might never be a wife. (Because surely it's better to realize that, process and embrace it now than to turn around in 20 years time and be bitter about not having anything? Surely life will be the sweeter whatever happens if I don't expect those particular gifts. Because they are gifts, not entitlements.)
Then, yesterday afternoon, I walk into my bedroom to see that Mum had bought me a book I'd been eying off for months - Kisses from Katie.
And as I read those words, as I read the story of that woman not much older than me - the same age as me when she first set out - who just said yes to God, who just keeps on saying yes, and the crazy, out-of-this-world way God has used her simple yes to transform hundreds of lives. Her own included. The way that 18 year old just out of high school wound up as a 26 year old with 13 adopted girls (or more) and the founder of an entire ministry in the villages of Uganda. How the girl who gave up her dreams, her boyfriend, her friends, found herself living a dream far more wondrous and more fulfilling than anything she could have dared imagine. As I read about all that; I realize something:
The friend who held me after my confession of heart break over the weeks realisation was right: I will always be a mother.
I will always be a mother because there will always be people who need to know the love of a mother and I have that love and a reason to give it to them. I have a Father telling me to love the orphan because He loves them. Because He loves them and He wants them to know that, but how can they if they've never known love?
And all I have to do is keep saying yes. To keep saying yes to loving the people right in front of me. To keep saying yes to loving people I've never yet met. To keep saying yes to loving God. To just keep saying yes to God.
My life will go to places far greater and far more beautiful than I could ever have imagined. Because the very centre of God's will is wondrous.
And a sense of deep peace fills my soul. No, more than that, a sense of deep, wild, excited joy, of glee fills me up.
And that crazy girl from Nashville, Tennessee and her 13 Ugandan children teach me a lesson about living solely for God: the joy, the sheer, inexplicable, all-consuming joy of obeying God far outweighs the pain of any sacrifices that are made along the way.
Monday, 18 August 2014
Things to Remember When You're Struggling with Temptation
I had a realization last night. It was one of those things where you think of something you've always known in a slightly different light and suddenly you find yourself blown away.
I was chatting to one of the woman at church about Jesus. About how He was 100% human, so He faced all the temptations we face. About how He was also 100% divine, so He never gave in to those temptations.
And it struck me, as we spoke, that that meant Jesus was tempted by sex.
It also struck me that it meant Jesus was tempted to be discouraged over His singleness. To be discontent with His lot in life. (And let's face it, which of us would be content knowing that our life was lived for the purpose of dying to save a bunch of people who didn't care in the least?)
Yeah, He face sexual temptation. And discontentment temptation. And selfishness temptation. And laziness temptation. And gluttony temptation. And lying temptation. And every temptation under the sun.
And He stood firm.
He did not once compromise His godliness and sinlessness.
And somehow we think there's this big no-no when it comes to temptations. As though admitting we even have them makes us look weak, never mind actually giving into them.
There's a shame that goes with being tempted. How dare that good Christian boy/girl struggle against the temptation to think lustfully? How dare that good Christian boy/girl struggle against the temptation to lie? To steal? To (fill blank with your biggest temptation)?
And it's a shame that stops us from talking to each other. But even worse, it's a shame that stops us from talking to God?
And how crazy is that when God as man was tempted in just the same ways we are?
Why do we have this nutso idea that we can only come to God when we've got everything right?
Why do we think the Church is a boarding house for saints when really it's the ER for sinners?
Why does the Christian who doesn't have it all together get condemned and judged by other Christians? Maybe it's because we're all hoping that if people are looking at others they will be too busy to look at us.
Too busy to see that we really should not put that DVD into the player because oh my word does it make us hate our lives.
Too busy to see that we really should not read that book because the amount of time we spend pouring over that sex scene is, well, sinful.
Too busy to see that we really should not go on Youtube because it just sucks all of our time away.
Too busy to see all those little temptations we face. Too busy to see all those little ways we give into them.
And maybe, if they don't see them, then God doesn't and we'll still be acceptable as His child...
And suddenly, we're not going to God with empty hands. We're going to God with hands hidden behind our backs clutching guilt and shame. And how are we meant to cling to the cross like that?
And so we don't talk about it. We don't pray about it. And all the while we're slowly dying and God is calling "While you were still sinners, I died for you. Not after you got it all together, while you were still sinners. Nothing can separate you from my love, not even that temptation, that sin you think you're hiding from me.
"Let go of it. Let me take it away. Just trust in my grace."
O, my dear, dear friend, I'm as guilty of this as everybody else. I think I have to go to God with all my problems solved. As if the Creator of the Universe doesn't already have the solution.
I think I somehow have to not be tempted so that will accept me. As if the God who became a man doesn't know what temptation is. Doesn't know how to fight it.
And when every day is a battle against something, why don't I go to my commander for advice?
When every day is filled with guilt, why don't I let go and trust God when He promises that nothing, nothing will ever separate us from Him as long as we cling to Him?
When every day is full of weariness and exhaustion, why don't we answer when God says "come to me, you who are weary, and I will give you rest?"
So, next time we face temptation, why don't we pray?
Why don't we pray to the God who understands because He was a man?
Why don't we pray to the God who faced temptation and won?
Why don't we pray to the God who counts us as righteous because of the blood of Christ?
Why don't we pray to the God who chose us to be heirs of eternal life in the full knowledge that we would be sinful?
Why don't we pray to the God who already knows every little detail about us - and has proved He loves us anyway?
Life is a battle against spiritual forces - so let's fight as we are. Members of the family that has already won, because of the Father who defeated death and sin and temptation.
I was chatting to one of the woman at church about Jesus. About how He was 100% human, so He faced all the temptations we face. About how He was also 100% divine, so He never gave in to those temptations.
And it struck me, as we spoke, that that meant Jesus was tempted by sex.
It also struck me that it meant Jesus was tempted to be discouraged over His singleness. To be discontent with His lot in life. (And let's face it, which of us would be content knowing that our life was lived for the purpose of dying to save a bunch of people who didn't care in the least?)
Yeah, He face sexual temptation. And discontentment temptation. And selfishness temptation. And laziness temptation. And gluttony temptation. And lying temptation. And every temptation under the sun.
And He stood firm.
He did not once compromise His godliness and sinlessness.
And somehow we think there's this big no-no when it comes to temptations. As though admitting we even have them makes us look weak, never mind actually giving into them.
There's a shame that goes with being tempted. How dare that good Christian boy/girl struggle against the temptation to think lustfully? How dare that good Christian boy/girl struggle against the temptation to lie? To steal? To (fill blank with your biggest temptation)?
And it's a shame that stops us from talking to each other. But even worse, it's a shame that stops us from talking to God?
And how crazy is that when God as man was tempted in just the same ways we are?
Why do we have this nutso idea that we can only come to God when we've got everything right?
Why do we think the Church is a boarding house for saints when really it's the ER for sinners?
Why does the Christian who doesn't have it all together get condemned and judged by other Christians? Maybe it's because we're all hoping that if people are looking at others they will be too busy to look at us.
Too busy to see that we really should not put that DVD into the player because oh my word does it make us hate our lives.
Too busy to see that we really should not read that book because the amount of time we spend pouring over that sex scene is, well, sinful.
Too busy to see that we really should not go on Youtube because it just sucks all of our time away.
Too busy to see all those little temptations we face. Too busy to see all those little ways we give into them.
And maybe, if they don't see them, then God doesn't and we'll still be acceptable as His child...
And suddenly, we're not going to God with empty hands. We're going to God with hands hidden behind our backs clutching guilt and shame. And how are we meant to cling to the cross like that?
And so we don't talk about it. We don't pray about it. And all the while we're slowly dying and God is calling "While you were still sinners, I died for you. Not after you got it all together, while you were still sinners. Nothing can separate you from my love, not even that temptation, that sin you think you're hiding from me.
"Let go of it. Let me take it away. Just trust in my grace."
O, my dear, dear friend, I'm as guilty of this as everybody else. I think I have to go to God with all my problems solved. As if the Creator of the Universe doesn't already have the solution.
I think I somehow have to not be tempted so that will accept me. As if the God who became a man doesn't know what temptation is. Doesn't know how to fight it.
And when every day is a battle against something, why don't I go to my commander for advice?
When every day is filled with guilt, why don't I let go and trust God when He promises that nothing, nothing will ever separate us from Him as long as we cling to Him?
When every day is full of weariness and exhaustion, why don't we answer when God says "come to me, you who are weary, and I will give you rest?"
So, next time we face temptation, why don't we pray?
Why don't we pray to the God who understands because He was a man?
Why don't we pray to the God who faced temptation and won?
Why don't we pray to the God who counts us as righteous because of the blood of Christ?
Why don't we pray to the God who chose us to be heirs of eternal life in the full knowledge that we would be sinful?
Why don't we pray to the God who already knows every little detail about us - and has proved He loves us anyway?
Life is a battle against spiritual forces - so let's fight as we are. Members of the family that has already won, because of the Father who defeated death and sin and temptation.
Thursday, 14 August 2014
The Gift of Now
So, I was sorting through some papers that had accumulated on the desk now removed from my room. It's surprising what builds up over a twelvemonth (ok... it's been longer...).
As I sifted through the piles, most of it well out of date and needing to meet the recycling bin, I came across a letter I wrote to a friend. But never got around to sending. Life gets a bit like that.
Still, I decided to read it. Wanted to know what I'd been thinking all those months ago. What I'd thought important enough to write down.
Having settled down to read it, the thick paper rough in my hands, I was glad I did. It reminded me of something I've been forgetting to do recently.
So, I'm going to share it here, because I'm sure I'm not the only one.
"I hope you'll stop a moment to read this letter. I hope you'll take a minute to breathe, to see that in this moment, in this second, you are blessed. This second, you are alive. In this second you breathe in the richness of God's world, you see the glory of His creation.
"I know that the next few months will be busy. know they will be full of goodbyes. I know they will be full of pain. I have been there.
"Time is the most precious of gifts, the most valuable of all commodities. Once it is gone, there is no bringing it back. Yet so many of us allow it to slip through our fingers, letting it run like sand, too busy to see that it is really gold dust.
"In the business of life and the distractions of work, it seems we can not find time to simply be. We long for hours with friends that we may have memories to share forever. Yet this is unattainable, for who has hours to spare? Not I, that's for sure.
"Stop a moment to read this letter. Take a moment to breathe, to see that in this moment, in this second, you are blessed. In this second, you are alive. In this second, you breathe in the richness of God's world, you see the glory of His creation. Enjoy this moment, for you may not get another.
"Forget about chasing after hours. It is meaningless, for when you turn, you find you have run past the hours, through them. Instead, look for the moments. Don't miss the joke your brother tells, or the sound of your friend's laugh. Don't be too busy to miss the sun or the rain. Look for each moment. Treasure every minute. For they are a gift from God. When you look on every moment, every laugh, smile, joke, tear, exchange in the hallway, you'll find He has given you hours.
"Stopping to smell the roses doesn't mean you sit with the roses and ignore the rest of the garden. It just means you don't rush through the garden and miss the colours and the smells. Pause with every moment and think "thank you, God, for now".
"In years to come, how you spent your hours with your friends will be forgotten, but those little moments will still be with you.
"And this is why I wrote a letter, instead of sending a Skype or Facebook message. I wanted you to stop a moment to read this letter. To take a moment to breathe, to see that in this moment, in this second, you are blessed. In this second, you are alive. In this second, you breathe in the richness of God's world, you see the glory of His creation.
"Give over worrying about how you'll spend tomorrow. Tomorrow may never come, and if it does, it will take care of itself. Today is a gift. Tomorrow is just a promise of more.
"With all God's love, LRD"
As I sifted through the piles, most of it well out of date and needing to meet the recycling bin, I came across a letter I wrote to a friend. But never got around to sending. Life gets a bit like that.
Still, I decided to read it. Wanted to know what I'd been thinking all those months ago. What I'd thought important enough to write down.
Having settled down to read it, the thick paper rough in my hands, I was glad I did. It reminded me of something I've been forgetting to do recently.
So, I'm going to share it here, because I'm sure I'm not the only one.
"I hope you'll stop a moment to read this letter. I hope you'll take a minute to breathe, to see that in this moment, in this second, you are blessed. This second, you are alive. In this second you breathe in the richness of God's world, you see the glory of His creation.
"I know that the next few months will be busy. know they will be full of goodbyes. I know they will be full of pain. I have been there.
"Time is the most precious of gifts, the most valuable of all commodities. Once it is gone, there is no bringing it back. Yet so many of us allow it to slip through our fingers, letting it run like sand, too busy to see that it is really gold dust.
"In the business of life and the distractions of work, it seems we can not find time to simply be. We long for hours with friends that we may have memories to share forever. Yet this is unattainable, for who has hours to spare? Not I, that's for sure.
"Stop a moment to read this letter. Take a moment to breathe, to see that in this moment, in this second, you are blessed. In this second, you are alive. In this second, you breathe in the richness of God's world, you see the glory of His creation. Enjoy this moment, for you may not get another.
"Forget about chasing after hours. It is meaningless, for when you turn, you find you have run past the hours, through them. Instead, look for the moments. Don't miss the joke your brother tells, or the sound of your friend's laugh. Don't be too busy to miss the sun or the rain. Look for each moment. Treasure every minute. For they are a gift from God. When you look on every moment, every laugh, smile, joke, tear, exchange in the hallway, you'll find He has given you hours.
"Stopping to smell the roses doesn't mean you sit with the roses and ignore the rest of the garden. It just means you don't rush through the garden and miss the colours and the smells. Pause with every moment and think "thank you, God, for now".
"In years to come, how you spent your hours with your friends will be forgotten, but those little moments will still be with you.
"And this is why I wrote a letter, instead of sending a Skype or Facebook message. I wanted you to stop a moment to read this letter. To take a moment to breathe, to see that in this moment, in this second, you are blessed. In this second, you are alive. In this second, you breathe in the richness of God's world, you see the glory of His creation.
"Give over worrying about how you'll spend tomorrow. Tomorrow may never come, and if it does, it will take care of itself. Today is a gift. Tomorrow is just a promise of more.
"With all God's love, LRD"
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