remembering

Over the summer I attended two memorial services within 2 weeks of each other, one for my husband’s 83-year-old grandfather, the other for my 91-year-old grandmother.  These two people were so dear to their families and friends and left behind beautiful legacies.  As I listened to the words spoken at their memorial services, I heard recurring themes of love.  They knew how to love, they loved others deeply, they taught their children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren what love is.  I don’t know if I can think of a better tribute than to be known and remembered as someone who loves well. 

During all the traveling to and from the services, I thought quite often about the words spoken at memorial services.  I know I’m not the only one who leaves a funeral wondering what will be said about me when I’m gone.  I sincerely hope that I am remembered for loving well.  And there’s more. 

In the midst of a recent conversation, my husband mentioned that we need to be sure we are allowing God to use us and the gifts He’s given us in the way He desires.  That comment came back to me as I was considering the mark I hope to leave on the world around me.  Yes, that’s it – to be able to look back over my life and have confidence that I did everything I could to use my gifts in the building of His Kingdom.

In the throes of everyday life I’ve found that it’s incredibly easy to lose sight of this.  It’s hard to see how my gifts can be used while I’m loading the dishwasher for the third time in a day, or digging through the laundry mountain for a tiny pair of clean socks.  Or when I’m dealing with a frustrating situation at work or struggling to keep my eyes open to finish an assignment for school.  But the truth is, God has gifted me for each of these situations.  He has placed me here, right where I am, for a purpose that only I can fulfill. 

I love these verses from Isaiah 51: “Listen to me, you who pursue righteousness, you who seek the Lord: look to the rock from which you were hewn, and to the quarry from which you were dug.”  Look to the rock from which you were hewn.  Does that hit you like it did me when I heard it read one Sunday morning?  The New Testament reading that went with it was a familiar one from Romans 12: “Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them.”  Put the two together, and it’s a beautiful picture of our Creator’s sovereign handiwork.  We are hewn in His image, “dug” from this covenantal family founded on a legacy of faith.  Using our gifts means we are living out of that legacy of faith, trusting that the God of grace will place us where we are needed. 

Sometimes we are required to make sacrifices to fully exercise our gifts the way God intends.
Sometimes we can get tripped up by the mundane activities we find ourselves doing day in and day out.
Sometimes we have to pass through waters, or walk through fire.
Sometimes we have to let go of what we think we want so God can show us our true desires. 

But there is great joy in following the path He forges for us, realizing His steadfast, loving, merciful presence as He goes before us and behind us.  It’s not always straight and smooth and carefree.  But He is with us.  And He knows what He’s doing with us.  He gave us gifts so that we would use them.  He places us in situations for which He has equipped us to be His hands, His feet, His voice, His light.

This is how I want to be remembered, for pursuing righteousness, for seeking the Lord, for looking to the rock from which I was hewn.  For allowing God to use the gifts He has given me for His honor and glory, as a uniquely placed instrument in the building of His Kingdom.  Yes, this is how I want to be remembered.  

Praise be to God for the grace that covers us daily, for His unfailing love and new mercies every morning, and for the hope we have in Him.  

abundant life

You know that feeling when you have a huge project you’ve been asked to tackle?  That overwhelming feeling that it’s even bigger than you realized?  That it’s going to be really hard, backbreaking work and is going to take a really. long. time.

You know that feeling of pure joy when you complete the first step, and then the next, and then you start to see real progress as you move along?  Even though it’s been tough and there have been days you want to give up.  Even when unexpected roadblocks come along and stop you in your tracks.  Keeping your eye on the prize, on the ultimate end result.  It keeps you going, day in and day out.  

I’m learning that this is what kingdom work is like.  We are laborers in a neverending harvest field that reaches farther than we can imagine.  We pour sweat and shed tears as we till, plant, water, and weed, sometimes enjoying the fruits, sometimes moving on before they’re ripe.  We are “like living stones being built up as a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood (1Pet. 2:5),” groaning as we bear the weight required of us, but standing firm on the victory won on the cross by Christ our Cornerstone.  We toil with the relentless joy of the Lord as our tower of strength, tediously but eagerly adding one stone a time.  

And just when we think we’ve had enough, when the pain and weariness reach to the deepest part of our beings, we find refuge in the shadow of His wings.  When fire threatens to overcome us and we don’t know where to hide, His wings of love and mercy are there, sheltering us, protecting us, calming us.  When we feel like we are drowning in the rushing river of life and its daily struggles, He lifts us up and carries us to peaceful waters.  Even when storms cause the wall we just constructed to crumble, He fills us with unearthly power, supporting our hands to lift yet another stone and rebuild what has been broken.  He gives rest when it’s needed, and strength beyond measure to complete the work to which we have been called.  After all, He tells us in John 14 that “whoever believes in me will also do the works that I do; and greater works than these will he do.”  He certainly will not leave us helpless and bereft, unable to carry out those “greater works.”  

This is life.  The abundant life we have because He came (John 10:10).  This grace-filled rhythm of work and rest, always seeking Him, listening to Him, following Him, walking with Him by faith.  Loving Him with our whole hearts, souls, and minds, and loving our neighbors as ourselves.  Strife will inevitably come, more often than we would like, bringing dark clouds of hurt, hopelessness, despair.  But when we walk by faith, letting mercy lead the way, His peace that passes all understanding will prevail, showering His radiant light over us, light that pierces straight into our souls.  Light that illuminates a path marked by “a drop of grace … in every footprint (Rich Mullins).”  A path well-traveled by our Helper, the Spirit of Truth, who walks alongside each one of us so we are never alone, showing us The Way that will ultimately lead us to eternal victory in our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ (John 14).

So choose life.  Choose to feast on the abundance of work, rest, faith, love, mercy, grace, healing, light and peace.  Choose the Way and the Truth.  Choose Life.  

awakened to freedom

In one of my recent posts, I wrote about being consumed, about opening my hands and my heart to let the Spirit enter in.  This could be part two of that post.  I’ve been meditating and praying a lot on what this means, and I’ve been seriously amazed at what it can mean.  Over the past several years, I have known I’m missing something in my spiritual life.  I was kind of floating along, playing the part, listening to others and wondering what I’m doing wrong.  I would read certain Scriptures and long for the words to come alive in me, although I really had no idea what that meant.  I felt like I should be further along than I was.  I’ve been raised in a Christian home, went to a Christian college, married a guy who is passionate about his faith and has now been called to holy orders.  Shouldn’t I have “gotten it” by now?  Shouldn’t I be one that others look to as an example, instead of blindly stumbling my way through each day, hoping no one sees the real me? 

A handful of experiences lead me to realize that I had built some pretty thick walls around my heart and soul.  And I had an army protecting those walls.  I was desperate to dictate who and what was allowed in, all the time wondering why I felt so restrained and uneasy.  I determined to do something about it.  I was going to figure out how to make things better.  I prayed about it…every now and then.  I bought books, read blogs, faced hard days with a fierce resolve to get it right.  And I failed.  Over and over.  Nothing worked.  I was so frustrated.

Fast forward to last year.  The Lord started to work on me.  At first it was in ways I didn’t even notice.  But then there were a few key events that were refreshing slaps in the face.  I slowly started to understand that I needed to let Jesus tear my walls down and be my strength.  I remember one evening our Bishop was praying over me, and he told me that he sensed that for my whole life I had been walking alongside a rushing river, and now it was time to jump in.  Yes!  That’s what I want, what I need. 

Not long after this experience, on my way home from a women’s retreat (which was one of those key events), as I drove I had an image of chunks of me falling away, and I was frantically grabbing the pieces and holding them tightly to me, literally trying to hold myself together.  It was a vivid picture of the rigid pattern I had developed in my life, working so hard to look like I’ve got it right, to move through each day in complete control.  I tearfully recognized the need to let Jesus pick up those pieces and hold them for me.  To let the Holy Spirit guide me, to relinquish the control I clung to.

But with this realization came intense fear.  Doubt.  What will happen if I let go?  What will I be asked to do?  To give up?  What if I don’t have what it takes?  What if I fail?  Can I really trust that He will provide?  Too many questions.  Too many unknowns. 

Then, at a retreat for the clergy and spouses of our diocese, I was so blessed by a word the Lord spoke to me.  During a time of prayer, our Bishop prayed that he knew there were some people present who needed to open their hearts.  Of course, I identified with that right away.  This had been on my mind for several months, but I was still coming to terms with it.  So I began to open my heart right there.  I started telling God that I knew He was speaking to me, but that fear had been holding me back, and I didn’t know what to do with that.  He spoke clearly and powerfully to me through the prayers of others, through my own prayers, and through His Word.  He reminded me that He will show me the way, He will provide more than I could ever ask or imagine, that I need not fear, only believe. 

So, I’ve jumped in the river, and the freedom I’m experiencing is incredible.  The other day I came across one of the books I purchased in my earnest attempt to fix myself.  It was about the fruit of the Spirit.  As I put it away, I joyfully thanked God for this journey I’ve been on; for the place I am now; for the opportunity to be in communion with Him, Father, Son, Spirit; for the fruits He produces in us when we allow Him to enter in.  For the freedom from feeling like I have to figure it all out and make the fruits take root in my life. 

Now I’m not saying it’s all sunshine and roses.  As Fr. Eirik so eloquently reminded us in his recent sermon, just like Thomas, we often don’t trust easily.  We need to come just as we are, humbly, honestly, admitting our faithlessness.  And while He will give us marvelous signs to show us that He is enough, the true blessing comes when we believe.  When we are in communion with Him, with our defenses down, just being in His presence will allow Him to renew us into the fullness of life, in the hope and reality of His resurrection.  Because He has overcome, all of our shortcomings, our fears, our doubts.  And His wounds are the way to the Father.  The way to abundant life, a life of victorious freedom in the Holy Spirit. 

 

THE Reason, and Other Reflections on Holy Week

Holy Week.  THE week that liturgical churches anticipate with a mix of delighted excitement and anxious preparation every year.

Let me be embarrassingly honest here.  I’ve never really been excited about Holy Week.  Since we’ve been attending Light of Christ Anglican Church in Kenosha, WI (shameless plug!), it’s always been a LONG week of late nights with grumpy kids and impossible expectations for quiet services (at least some of them).  Not to mention all the planning, scheduling, bulletin-making, and other ways I’ve been involved in years past.  And through it all, I was just trudging through with my head down, running out the door as soon as each service was over, or even before it was done, thankful for the excuse of overtired children.

This year, we decided to travel back to Virginia/Tennessee for our 10th college reunion.  We knew it was the weekend of Palm Sunday, but it doubled as a trip to visit family, and we haven’t been back home in over a year.  So we decided to bite the bullet and make the trip.  The week before, we seriously thought about cancelling at the last minute.  Both of us were totally overwhelmed by all we had going on.  It’s almost the end of my first semester in grad school.  Luke has more church responsibilities now that he’s ordained.  Plus he had to try to figure out how to fit in his clients at work since we would be gone several days.  But in the end, we decided to go, and we were glad we did.  It was truly a fun time.  We celebrated Kenna’s 9th birthday with family, we had warm sunny weather every day, we saw old friends, we had a date night.  Very refreshing and relaxing!  Although we won’t plan a trip before/during Holy Week again…

We came back on Tuesday, two days before Luke was scheduled to preach on Maundy Thursday.  In case you’re wondering, preaching weeks are HARD.  I worked the rest of the week and had (still have!) mountains of work to finish on two huge projects for school.  The dog was sick.  Really sick.  The kids had a rehearsal on Wednesday evening right after school, which meant dinner and homework were happening at bedtime.  Unpacking, post-vacation laundry.   What were we thinking??!!

On Thursday evening, as soon as I finished my work day I had to make a quick dinner to feed the kids, get all four dressed and out the door for our 7pm service.  It wasn’t pretty, mostly because of MY attitude, not theirs.  Side note: bedtime at this house is 7:30pm, so perhaps you can imagine how I feel about 7pm church services?  Thankfully, our church brings in an outside childcare provider so we can all fully participate in each service.  Truly, I am thankful for that.  But still, I sat down at the service in a very crabby mood.  I didn’t know exactly why, but I did NOT want to be there.  I was allowing myself to sulk because of all I have going on, and since Holy Week had never been a bright spot for me before, this was just one more night service to endure.  And I was weighed down by guilt over fussing at the kids when I was getting them ready to leave.  And then I listened to Luke’s message.  As is appropriate for Maundy Thursday, it was about love.  And the guilt increased, because all I could think about was how I wish I was better about showing the love of Jesus to my kids.  But then, he said something about how we have the opportunity to hold the light of Jesus in our hands as we wash the feet of our loved ones.  I can’t explain it, but those words touched me so deeply.  I was reminded that even when it’s hard, even when I screw up, even when it feels like my kids ignore everything I’m saying, it’s the light and love of Jesus that binds our family together and gives shape to our love for each other.  I left the service with a heart full of light and love instead of darkness and guilt.  To top it off, the kids and I had a sweet conversation about the love of Jesus on our way home, and bedtime even went (fairly) well!

Friday, I woke up excited about what the Lord had in store for me.  I had to work all day, but I’m so blessed by my flexible job, and I was able to use my lunch break to drive down to Kenosha and work the rest of the day from there.  Luke spent all day at the church, coordinating the various events.  The kids spent all day playing with friends and had a blast.  That night, our dear Deacon Jan shared such a beautiful word about what Jesus did for us on the cross.  It was fresh and poignant, and so fitting as we prepared for the veneration, a time when we touch the wood of the cross in adoration of our Savior’s sacrifice.  At this service, I was overcome by gratitude for the clergy in our church.  Fr. Eirik and our Deacons are incredibly humble, gracious, loving servants who truly lead by example.  I praised God for moving our church in the direction of bringing Fr. Eirik on as our full-time rector, because I know without a doubt that he is the right leader for this body of believers.  And I praised God for bringing Luke and me here, and leading us to ordination here, in this church, in this diocese.  I left the service knowing with certainty that we are in the right place, and so thankful for His sovereignty.  What a blessing!

Needless to say, Saturday was also a joyful day.  As I took the kids to a rehearsal and delivered food to the home across the street where we all gather for meals, I felt like I was at a family reunion.  The home belongs to our Deacon Jan and his wife Michelle, whose gift of hospitality is truly remarkable.  Chatting and laughing with friends, feeding and chasing each other’s kids, working together to prepare food and clean up afterwards.  I love this church family!  And the Vigil service – let me tell you, if you’ve never experienced an Easter Vigil, you’re missing out.  This is the first year that I’ve been able to stay through the entire service, and I’m so glad for that!  The readings were incredible, each one in its own way.  Seriously, we have some amazingly talented people.  I was blown away as I reflected on each person’s gifts and how we all use them to glorify Him.  And Fr. Eirik’s message was like the Lord was speaking directly to me.  It was perfectly in line with many things I’ve been praying about and meditating on in recent months.  The Holy Noise, the praising, the rejoicing, the dancing – no words to describe it.  What a grand celebration of the Resurrection of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ!  How can you not be swept up in the joy of it all?

And finally, a sweet Sunday morning service.  Bright cheerful flowers on the stage, their fragrance the first thing you notice when you walk in.  Light streaming in the windows, everyone smiling and rejoicing because He is Risen!  I saw a bunny in my yard before the kids got up that morning, and it occurred to me that as cliché as the phrase “Jesus is the Reason for the Season” is, it applies to Easter every bit as much as Christmas.  What is Easter without Jesus?  And now I can truly say that I can’t imagine Easter without Holy Week and all its festivities that remind us of what our Father and His Son have done for us.  Hearing my little six-year-old son running around the house singing “Christ is risen, He is risen indeed!” fills my heart and makes it all worth it.  I was so blessed by this year’s Holy Week.  It was another step on this momentous journey I have been on over the past year (that’s a whole other post!).  I’m already looking forward to next year!!

be consumed

A couple of weeks ago I had a health scare.  I don’t want to bother you with all the intimate details, so suffice it to say that in my line of work, too much knowledge is a dangerous thing.  I know the statistics and the fact that it was much more likely to be nothing than something.  But I also have seen the worst of the worst and know that “something” was a possibility.  At first, I was able to keep a cool head and for the most part ignore that nagging thought in the back of my mind.  But after a while, when the possible “something” wasn’t going away, I got worried.  And the worry started to take over.  And one day, I could barely think about anything else.  The thoughts of what could happen – I’m talking worst case scenario here – began to consume me.

Now, let me back up.  For the past year or so, I’ve had this burden on my soul to understand what it means to “turn your eyes toward Jesus.”  I liked the idea (that sounds so silly, but it’s true), and I knew deep within me that this seemingly unreachable goal is essential for abundant life.  I’ve always known that God loves me, that He cares for me and watches over me.  That I can take anything to Him in prayer.  That nothing is too big for Him.  But to really look to Him in everything and allow “the things of earth to grow strangely dim”… I had never really experienced this, and I longed for it.  I mulled over this often, trying to reason my way into achieving this goal I had clumsily created for myself.

 

So in this struggle I was having, this day when I was fighting worry and fear over what could be happening, I was looking at my situation with a clouded lens and growing angry over what this possible something would mean to me, to my family, to my future.  I cried out to God… and I began to hear Him.  It wasn’t an audible voice.  It was His Spirit speaking truth into me, through Scripture, through the lyrics of a favorite song of worship, through the prayers and encouragement of my Godly husband, through the outpouring of support in love and prayers from close friends and family.  And the words that I kept hearing were an invitation to rest in His presence.  To “calm and quiet my soul, like a weaned child with its mother” (Psalm 131).  To know that He’s got this.  To realize I don’t have to have all the answers, because He does. 

Those of you who know me well know that I am the definition of a control freak.  I have an incredibly difficult time loosening my grip.  I like things to go my way.  (That’s normal, right?)  So to open my hands and my heart and let the Spirit consume me goes against my nature.  I guess that’s why it’s taken me so long to get this, maybe even why it took a jolting experience like this to bring me to this reality.  But in my angst, I did just that.  I laid my burden at the foot of the cross and found peace there.  Jesus heard my cries and held me in His arms, soothing my soul and reminding me that it doesn’t really matter what happens in this life – He is with me.  I mean, what happens matters.  Day to day life events are important.  We can’t ignore “the small stuff.”  But we can choose to “turn our eyes toward Jesus” and know – really know deep within our souls – that the Lord does have plans to give us hope (Jeremiah 29:11).  They may not be the plans we expect, or even the plans we think we want.  When Jeremiah gave these words to the Israelites, I doubt they liked the idea of their Babylonian exile, or wanted to settle there for seventy years.  But God’s promise was that He would be found by them and restore them.  And He is always with us.  The Psalms are full of reminders of His presence, going before us and behind us (Psalm 139), comforting us (Psalm 23), providing refuge and strength (Psalm 46).  So while I know I’ll still have times when I try to figure it out on my own and muscle my way through, I hope and pray that I’m able to let go, be consumed with the Spirit, and rest in the peace of His sweet presence.