The Longing Lover

"But then I will win her back once again. 

I will lead her into the desert 

and speak tenderly to her there."

~Hosea 2:14

Whenever I pictured Jesus' life on this earth, I used to only imagine the separation and pain He felt while away from heaven; his longing for his father and for home.  The cost of his earthly trip.

But recently I've begun to realize that the temporary divide from his divine family was just the trade-off he willingly, joyfully, made in order to avoid a more painful goodbye.  He refused to be separated from us.  From you.  From me.

Me.  His faithless lover who left.  Me, the troubled part of his heart he couldn't let go.  Me, the one hopelessly lost to him through no fault of his own.  Me, the one he would rather face death than live without.  Me, undeserving me.

His pain began before the first human chose to betray him.  He chose to create us because he longed for companionship.  He chose to create that which could embrace or reject him as lover and friend. He chose to create and allow a freedom that could destroy.  He chose to create, knowing he was risking it all, for love.

His self-sacrificing love was there--even before it was needed.  His other-centered-ness called him to speak into existence a world, a people, he allowed to be free.  He sculpted a human race in whom he could pour out his love with no expectation--only hope--of love in return.

A love--a lover--whom he lost. A Love he had to barter back from his worst enemy.  And it cost him his life.

Love was more precious than life.  His love for me meant more to him than literally anything.  He considered separation from his beloved, perfect father to be preferable to losing me, his faithless lover.

Do you long for significance?  Do you long to be loved outrageously?  Undeservedly?  Dangerously? You already are.  You won't find that love anywhere but in his arms.  The lover who gave up everything to be reunited with you.  His love is everything.  His love is forever.  His love is for YOU.

And I am convinced 

that nothing 

can ever separate us from God's love. 

Neither death nor life, 

neither angels nor demons, 

neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow

not even the powers of hell can separate us from God's love.

No power in the sky above 

or in the earth below--

indeed, 

nothing in all creation 

will ever be able to separate us 

from the love of God 

that is revealed 

in Christ Jesus our Lord.

~Romans 8:38-39

Lighten Up

For you were once darkness,

but now

You are Light in the Lord.

                Live as children of light…

~ Ephesians 5:8

            I need a lighter life.  A life that’s brighter.  Unburdened.  Uplifted.  All the nouns and verbs defining the word “lightened.”

            A life that moves away from darkness and into the clarity of day. 

            A life that casts off the burdens I was never meant to bear.

            A life that embraces joy.

            My One Word for 2014: Lighten. 

For this Light within you produces only
what is good
 and right
and true.

~ Ephesians 5:9

He's got plans

For I know the plans I have for you," 

declares the LORD, 

"plans to prosper you 

and not to harm you, 

plans to give you hope 

and a future.

In those days when you pray, I will listen.

If you look for me wholeheartedly, you will find me.

Jeremiah 29:11-13

Plans.  Sometimes I'm an excellent planner.  Need somebody to organize a youth camping trip complete with meals and travel arrangements?  I'm your woman.  Need somebody to lead out in drama or a youth church class?  Once again, sign me up--I've got things under control.  Need me to figure out a plan for life after small kids and passing age 35 (a little while ago)?  Errrr--um--(cue record scratch).

Oops.  I forgot to aim for 40.  It didn't seem to matter much as things seemed to be falling into place.  Until they didn't.  Important people exited from our lives, finances changed, emotional needs of my children changed, and my world got turned upside down, shaken out, and dumped off on another road.

I dusted myself off, grieved the losses, and then looked around at a strange new landscape--a little lonlier, definitely unfamiliar, and miles away from my cozy little town of Comfortable.  Not only did (and do) I not know where I was; but I had no idea where to go now--or how to get there.  And deeply burdened by guilt and shame and doubt. 

I'm learning how to dump my burden.  I have to do it every day.  Sometimes several times a day.  (Did I mention I still keep picking it back up?--I'll have to work on that.)  I'm learning that I don't have to be able to see around the next bend right now or evening know where I'm going (Abraham-style)--He'll reveal it to me when He thinks best.  

I'm learning that when the way is hidden, He's closer than ever.  

He's got plans.  I've got Him.  I'll let Him lead.

Evidently, that was His intention in the first place.  When will I ever learn.

We can make our plans, but the LORD determines our steps.

Proverbs 16:1

He's here.

I've heard it a thousand times, "And you shall call his name Immanuel, which means 'God with us'."

Joseph's dream.  The angel spoke to him, filling him in on the miraculous news.  Mary's baby, was God's baby.  God's son.  God's only son.  And his name was to be Immanuel.

Immanuel.  God with us.  Us!  Humanity.  The wretched ones.  The human race who had made a mess of the universe and put creation on hold and caused every being from every planet surrounding every star to wait with baited breath until this all-encompassing war is ended.

To be given that name almost seems like a brand, labeled forever and linked with the lost.

But He chose that name, carried it as a thing of honor.  The humility of stooping down to us was pure privlege to him.  He wanted to wear it, to take on the name of humanity become like one of us.

Amazing love.

God with us.  God on our side.  Jesus, loyal companion.  Jesus, friend of sinners.  Jesus, with us forever.

Feeling alone?  Never.   Jesus has forever taken our name, He is part of humanity; and he offeres us His  name and His presence forever.

Immanuel, God with us.  His name and His promise.

He's here.  Let's let Him into our lives.

The Story that will Save Us

Sit with me and tell me once again

Of the story that's been told us

Of the power that will hold us

Of the beauty, of the beauty

Why it matters

...Like a single cup of water

How it matters 

                             ~ Why it Matters by Sara Groves

I need to hear the stories.  Over and over again.  My daughter needs to hear my stories.  Over and over again.  And it matters, so very much.

The first time my daughter really cried deeply over her friend's death was the night after the viewing.  Up until that point she had been focused, like me, on what she needed to do and say, where she needed to be and when, to get through and to help her friends get through.  But Friday evening she crept to my napping bedside to give me a kiss.  And then she paused and just leaned against me.  I asked her, "Are you okay?"  "No," came the quiet response; followed by sobs.

I hauled her into bed beside me and held her while she sobbed. I stroked her hair and murmured quiet nothings to her until she ran out of tears.  Then we sat in silence for a long while. Over the past few days she'd already asked all the questions, and I'd already given the few answers I had and agreed that we possessed the same unanswered ones.

"Tell me some stories, Momma.  Tell me about when I was little and when brother was little, and about Paba, and you and Auntie. Tell me the funny things I used to do and about when I got in trouble and all the stories.  You know, the ones I like."

And so I did.  I repeated all her favorites.  How as a baby she'd crawl so fast over to the kitty's drinking water and splash and giggle before we could get her to stop.  How she once accidentally ran away with the dog.  How her brother drew a pair of glasses onto our cat with permanent marker, and how he used a whole tube of waterproof mascara painting his arms brown.  I told her about Paba and his runaway little red wagon and how he saved himself by mowing down a white picket fence.  I told her about how my sister and I created an outdoor kitchen of brick and leftover chimney liner and how we baked our clay creatures until they cracked and Paba suggested we find a safer, more industrious way to spend our time.

And finally, my daughter slept.

We need to hear the stories.  Stories of our family.  Stories of happiness and comfort and joy.  Stories that bring us hope and a future.  Over and over again.  We need to hear the story to remind us of who we are, where we came from, where we are going, and how so very loved we are.  Have you heard the story?

In the beginning was 

The Story of God, 

          The Story was with God 

            The Story was God.

  

He was in the beginning with God.  

                   All things were made through Him, 

                     and without Him 

nothing was made 

                        that was made.  

In Him, The Story, was life

                                      and the Life was the light of men.

And The Story became flesh 

Dwelt among us.

                  We beheld His glory

                 The glory 

as of the only begotten of the Father
The Story 

                       Full of Grace 

                                  and Truth.

                                                  ~ adapted from John 1:1-4, 14

Even So...

11 days ago, my little friend, a beautiful, sunshiny 7-year-old little girl, died.  Her life snuffed out in an instant, so unexpected and unexplainable.

When Marissa died, my friend's daughter died, my daughter's friend died, and another little friend lost her twin.  And the heartbreak is so shattering that words fail me, so I shall borrow the words of another.

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll;

Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,

It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,

Let this blest assurance control,

That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,

And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!

My sin, not in part but the whole,

Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,

Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,

The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;

The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,

Even so, it is well with my soul.

~ Horatio G. Spafford

(click on his name to read his story of loss)

How Fragile We Are

Many years ago, the song "Fragile" by Sting with its haunting melody and repeated refrain, "...lest we forget how fragile we are.  How fragile we are..."  got me to thinking about us humans and our proclivity for breakage.

Drop us from too high up, we die.  Drop something too big on us, we die.  Forget to feed and water us, we die.  Expose us to extreme temperatures, we die.   And don't even get me started on all the ways to injure us--there are a million ways.

We're a delicate bunch, us citizens of this fallen world.  Sometimes we don't realize it right away.  We have parents and teachers and protectors galore to insulate us from danger and damage.  But if we hang around long enough, we get hurt.  We get lost.  We suffer.

I don't like being breakable.  I don't like the broken places I already have.  And I don't like the weaknesses in my heart, body, and soul that predict breakdowns in the future.

But even when I cannot feel it, even when I've lost those who loved and protected me most at best here on earth, even when I can't imagine that things will ever be okay--I choose to believe that there is still a safe place for me.   There is still a Power greater than all the forces of evil that holds me close and will never let me go.

Today I can't feel it.  I feel all my all vulnerabilities and weaknesses and fears closing in.  But I believe.   I believe that I am safe.  Safe, because I have asked Him to stay with me and He is here.

Those who live in the shelter of the Most High 

will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

This I declare about the LORD: 

He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; 

He is my God, and I trust him.

He will cover you with his feathers. 

He will shelter you with his wings. 

His faithful promise are your 

armor 

and 

protection.  

~Psalm 91:1-4