Revisiting these thoughts from a few years back … as we journeyed through the book of Colossians Joel introduced us to the idea of Consumerist Porn. Consider:

Today Pastor Joel talked about empty philosophies (Col. 2) and how we tend to take the world’s “philosophies” or systems and ways of thinking, and mix them in with our Christianity.  He used several examples, but the one that stood out to me was consumerism.

He introduced to us the idea of Consumerist Porn, and how it warps our minds.  It’s a strong term, but I think so accurately describes what so many of us do.  Consider the magazine industry.  How many of us have Pottery Barn catalogs?  Crate & Barrell?  Do we sit and flip through these magazines, fantasizing about things that we don’t have, in essence lusting after things we think will make our lives better?  What is it for you?  Joel talked about travel magazines, golf magazines.  What about Victoria’s Secret catalogs or whatever it may be.  What do we spend our “mindless” time doing?  And is it, in a way, unhealthy fantasizing about material things?

I realized lately that without my even meaning to, God had weeded my life from some of this.  As I was organizing our file cabinet, I found a manila folder with “House Ideas” on the tab.  Inside were torn out pages from–you guessed it–Pottery Barn, Crate & Barrell, Restoration Hardware.  The pictures were nice, I guess, but for some reason it seemed kind of silly.  Why would I purposely keep pictures of things I don’t need? Just in case I forgot?  Praise God I forgot!  Long long ago I quit getting Victoria’s Secret or any clothing catalogs of any kind.  Why?  Because I don’t know I ”need” new clothes until I see them adorning some 6’2″ 105lb. retouched model. Then I realize I need them! And I am absolutely content with my body until I take a good look at that 6’2″ 105lb. model and then I realize how wide my hips are.  Fantasy? Perhaps. Lust? Maybe.  Unnecessary for my spiritual growth and Christlikeness?  Absolutely.

I thought of this again recently as I was window-shopping in some fabulous decor-stores. Again, nothing wrong with admiring beauty, but the question is: Does this incite in my admiration for God’s beautiful creation or does it incite in me a lustful desire to have more stuff?  Only we, and God, know our hearts. 

So I know the term Consumerist Pornography is pretty strong, but I like it. I like it because it refuses to let us call covetousness by a nice neat name that makes us not feel bad.   God gives us good gifts.  He is a loving Father. He may very well bless us with a beautiful home or a tropical vacation or what have you.  But perhaps too often we are guilty of letting ourselves buy the lie of this world, “If only I had that…” One of the world’s trappings that robs us of our joy …

Give us faithful eyes, Lord. Free from lust and fantasy. Pure hearts, pure motives, content with what we have.  Rid our lives of consumerist pornography and give us eyes for You alone. In Jesus’ name. {Thanks for reading.}

 

My running route last Friday was a fabulous out-and-back on the rolling hills of Rosemont Road. It’s the closest thing to flat that we have around here. Along the flats and downhills my eyes are up–the sky was glorious blue and the sun was warm on my face even though the temperature never tipped past forty. I love the time to look around and take in the beautiful land where we live.

But on the hills my eyes are down, focused on every step, telling myself to just keep running all the way to the top.

And almost at the top of one particular hill, where my eyes are always down, focused, there is a stretch of asphalt with lumps and bumps and crests like ocean waves because of some mammoth tree roots underneath. I have to remind myself to pick up my feet or these big blacktop speedbumps would do me in.

And I’m always amazed that apparently this asphalt, poured down boiling hot and hardened like concrete, is no match for the might of a tree root. Slow and steady this tree has remained, broken through the asphalt to grow, providing oxygen, life, beauty, through the years.

That’s exactly how our lives can be. 

Man’s best effort at a lasting substance is asphalt. Pour it out, let it harden, it’ll stand the test of time. But the tree remains longer, breaks through it. The tree–because of its roots–can break through whatever weighs it down.

Do you feel like perhaps the world has poured asphalt on your head? Sometimes it can feel like everything in the world is opposing your growth. Opposing your desire to live for God. Opposing your desire to live in peace, joy, faith, harmony, grace. Sometimes just when you’re most excited about the things of God the enemy backs up a dump-truck load of asphalt and pours it right out on your head. The result is that your stuck, weighed down, consumed. Perhaps, even, feeling crushed.

But the asphalt is no match for the tree. 

The tree continues to grow because the roots are connected to the true source of life. If, when, we abide in Christ, the promise is that we will bear much fruit. No matter what is dumped on top of us, nothing can uproot us.

And all that really matters are our roots. 

“Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, whose trust is in the LORD. He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and is not anxious in the year of drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit.” Jer. 17:7-8

When our roots remain near the stream of living water we can, like the Count of Monte Cristo, look the world’s asphalt in the eye and say, “Do your worst.” The tree does not fear.

What has the world tried to dump on your head? What threatens to crush your spirit today? Remain near the stream of Christ’s living water, sending your roots down deep into His love and truth. In time, slow and steady, you will grow, amen?

By the grace of God: The asphalt is no match for the tree. 

{Praying for you today … mind those roots. Thanks for reading.}

 

I closed Dutch’s door and marched to the living room. I was breathing hard, frustrated and at a loss as to what to do. Looking back, I was doing what to do, giving him time in his room to get a happy heart and change his complaining attitude before resuming his chores. But in the midst of it, tired and battling a head-cold, I just felt overwhelmed and exhausted.

So I picked up the phone.

It was a weak moment and I knew it. I’m phone-phobic so usually I don’t call anyone, ever, even when I should, but this was different and all I wanted to do was lay my gripe square in someone’s lap.

So I dialed my parents.

Of course, God loves me too much to let me do something stupid. So my parents didn’t answer. Why I have no idea other than His sovereignty. But as I hung up the phone the gripe welled up within me and by His grace He showed me in whose lap it truly belonged.

Only God’s.

I’m trained to be thankful. My habit is to turn a circumstance around and around in my hand until I can see some aspect of it for which to be glad. This is a good thing. But what about when I’m holding that circumstance in my hand and no matter how many times i turn it around and look at it all I want to do is throw it through the window, shattering glass in a thousand pieces?

Because those times do happen, amen?

Thankfully, God has given us a divinely-prescribed space for complaint. (And for that we can be thankful.) Throughout Scripture we see men and women of God honestly bringing their complaints to God and pouring out their hearts to Him. David, the man with a heart like God’s, expresses this in Psalm 142:

I cry aloud to the Lord; I lift up my voice to the Lord for mercy. I pour out my complaint before him; before him I tell my trouble.

He’s writing this from a cave. He’s probably starving. He’s fleeing from mad-man Saul who seeks his life. He’s been forsaken, alone, deserted. And the first thing he does is not make a list of things he’s grateful for …

He gripes to God first. 

First he pours out His honest heart to God. Unless the filth is cleaned out first the gratitude won’t be real, it’ll be forced, contrived, in-genuine. Yes, we are to thank God by faith, but perhaps I, we, sometimes forget this first important step: To first give God my gripe. 

David continues his complaint…

When my spirit grows faint within me, it is you who know my way. In the path where I walk men have hidden a snare for me. Look to my right and see no one is concerned for me. I have no refuge; no one cares for my life.

I cry to you, O Lord; I say, “You are my refuge, my portion in the land of the living.” Listen to my cry, for I am in desperate need; rescue me from those who pursue me, for they are too strong for me.

Set me free from my prison, that I may praise your name. Then the righteous will gather about me because of your goodness to me.

Perhaps a modern-day version might go something like this:

I’m frustrated and am on the verge of barking at my kids or punching out a sharp text to my husband or writing a FB status that I know I will regret. Instead I will run to my room for two minutes and pour out my heart to God …

God, you see this house, that it’s a mess. You know I’m the only one who cleans up(!). You know I’m trying to seek You, God and these kids lean hard into me all day and they never stop talking and somehow dinner still needs to appear and the bathroom clean before small group tonight. You know my anxieties, about how to school my children, and why my friend is acting strange toward me. And what did I do wrong? You know my insecurities, why I’m so afraid of losing what I have, why sometimes I just want to hide and never blog and let the world see into this beautiful mess you’ve called my life. See everything, God, and deliver me. Give me peace and show me how to be grateful. I trust you.  I trust You. Amen.

Maybe a prayer like that is somewhere in your heart today? Maybe today, before you write your list of thanks (and I do hope you write a list of thanks!), you might just need to pour out a complaint to God and let Him clean you up on the inside?  This lesson is for me, hope it can encourage you too. {Thanks for reading…}

 

“So, you have someone who will watch Heidi while you speak?” I thought about this for a moment. Yes, now that you say it that would be the logical thing to do. But no, I don’t have someone. I suppose she’ll just be with me while I speak…

Hmmm…

It’s true that sometimes I agree to things before I’ve thought through exactly how it’ll all work out. Call it faith or call it stupidity, but the way I see it either God will come through mightily or I’ll learn a humbling and valuable lesson. Either way is fine.

So I took Heidi with me this past weekend as I spoke to a group of college women from Western Oregon University. To be fair, I did figure that in a group of 25 college women someone would be willing to help me, right?

We left on Friday afternoon. Heidi took her responsibility as “mommy’s helper” very seriously. She had her Dora backpack, her pink pillow, her purple sunglasses (I think she thought the “beach” would be sunny?) and a brand-new Tinkerbell flashlight we’d given her for the occasion (Thank you, Meg Forest!). Then, just before we got in the car for our 3+ hour car-ride we pulled out the grand prize. A pink “laptop” (“just like Mommy’s” –Thank you, Nissa!) that we’d saved for a special occasion. She clutched it tight in her arms, held her head up high, and marched out to the car ready for the long Fri-Mon weekend in Yachats.

By Eddyville she was fast asleep.

Of course the reality of having a 2-year-old with me was far different than the dream. There were two of us women and two small children sleeping in one bed (!), very little sleep, and a handful of other challenges that are just bound to happen (Oops forgot a towel, oops forgot soap, oops the bathtub doesn’t plug so Heidi can’t take a bath, oops brought the wrong cellphone charger so my phone is dead, oops there’s no CD player to play the songs I brought, oops I guess it’s that time of the month (!), oops had no sleep…).

I will confess I got up Saturday morning and typed out a txt to Jeff: “Help! I can’t do this…on the verge of tears, we need to think of something.”

But my cellphone died before I could send it.

God won’t let me quit even when I try. 

Did I forget that when I’m weak then I am strong? (2 Cor. 12:10)

Did I forget that His power works best in my weakness? (2 Cor. 12:9)

Never before have I more experienced the truth of this that I did this past weekend. Heidi sat with me during all five sessions. She was at my side every waking moment. My normal times of stealing away to be alone and prepare just didn’t happen. I couldn’t rely on my own ability to stay calm, cool, collected, rested. Perhaps for the first time (?) in retreat-speaking I was truly and completely throwing myself at the mercy of God and resting in grace.  Providence again….

Our topic was GRACE.

The gospel of grace is what changes us from the inside out.

I’m not sure if anyone learned it more than me. And truly, again by His grace, it was probably one of if not the most powerful retreat times I’ve ever had. It. Was. HIM.

Again, the gentle and kind reminder: Why do we so often stick to the known, the comfortable, that which is in our control when there is grace and mercy for the desperate. There’s filling for the hungry. Satisfaction for the needy. Strength for the weak.

Do I let myself get weak? Get hungry? Get weak?

Sisters, where are you weak? Where are you desperate? Where are you hungry? Where are you needy?

That is exactly where God desires to pour out His power and grace. 

For me, that Saturday morning God prevented my text message from going through. Kept me from throwing in the towel. Made me wait just a little bit longer.

Where do you need to wait just a little bit longer for His grace to be revealed?

Joy comes in the morning. Hold on just a little bit longer. Grace is on the way…

{The other JOY of being needy was the precious college women who DID step up and help me in such lovely ways. Jill, Heidi is in love with you!  Thank you, WOU ladies for YOUR grace toward me. And thanks, all, for reading.}!

 

I can see in my children’s eyes when I’ve mis-judged their actions. Just today I was in the kitchen and called Heidi in to me as I had heard her being rude to Dutch. She dawdled (was not obeying) and I thought I overheard Dutch say, “You’re getting a spank!” In my mind this was taunting her and if he rejoices over another’s discipline he gets to share in the same discipline. So I called him in as well.

As soon as I told him the charge I could see it in his eyes. Panic. Hurt. True, honest confusion and panic. His lip quivered.

“Mommy, I didn’t! I wasn’t! I was warning her that if she didn’t obey you she would get a spank! I was helping her!” And I know my boy and the look in his eyes–he was telling the truth. I apologized for mis-judging him and let him go. Surely there are plenty of occasions where his actions and motives are wrong, but this was not one.

The hurt in his eyes stuck with me because I’ve known that same feeling. We all have. I remember the Coffee Shop incident from Santa Clara, and the words, “Well, since your heart’s not in it…” I remember what it’s like to have someone judge the condition of your heart and be painfully amiss. I know the feeling of someone questioning your ministry and realizing, with some shock and not a little hurt — that they actually think you have the wrong motives.

And, sadly, I’m sure that I have misjudged others’ motives at times.

We are such a fallen lot, aren’t we?

Those of us still limping through a people-pleasing addiction can find this misjudgment crippling.  But there’s someone inspiring who didn’t let it get him down at all. And we are wise to write our troubles in dust and our blessings in marble. Instead of nursing the wound of misjudgment, let it slip off and move forward in courage.

Like David. 

Do you remember when Goliath defied the army of God? Do you remember how everyone was scared to death? Well David had been tending sheep but his dad, Jesse, had commanded him to take provisions for his brothers who were in the army camp. So he obeyed His father and did it. When he arrived, Goliath was breathing his threats, and David inquired  about who would fight him and what would be done for the man who did. And, it seems, as God was putting it in his heart to fight this battle, check out the encouragement he receives from his older brother, Eliab:

“And Eliab’s anger was kindled against David, and he said, ‘Why have you come down? And with whom have you left those few sheep in the wilderness? I know your presumption and the evil of our heart, for you have come down to see the battle.’” (1 Sam 17:28)

Ouch. Talk about mis-judged motives. David was simply obeying his father and then obeying his God.

But what does David do? Does he pout, all upset about being mis-judged? Nope. He does simply say, “What have I done?” and then…

“He turned away from him toward another…” (v. 29)

He just turned away. He let it go. He turned to someone else. He knew that THAT was not the battle to fight.

There were bigger battles to fight.

Too often, sweet friends, we (I) can get so hurt and bent out of shape over the Eliab-remarks and we forget the fact that there’s a way bigger battle going on. The battle for souls, for the gospel, for lives. Will we stay distracted and wounded by the misjudgment or will we move on to pursue the Kingdom of God?

Can you hear my heart? It does hurt to be misjudged, but we can move on to greater things. Remember what the real battle is.

By God’s grace, victory can be ours. 

{Praying for the grace for you to overlook an offense today …Thank you so much for reading!}

 

I crawled on her lap over and over again during my Grandma’s final days. I was only 10, and I didn’t know her that well, but she smelled just like grandma, had the same voice and the same calm peace about her. Like warmth and trust and rest were wrapped around her whole being. Just like my grandma.

Probably because they were sisters.

My aunt Lois held me those days when Grandma passed from this world to the next, and she held a special place in my heart and faith ever since. The same amazing faith, courage, kindness, and glow that my grandma had, Aunt Lois had in even greater measure. I don’t even know exactly how to describe it, other than that her whole being exuded peace. She had this calm sense of trust and joy about her that made you feel, no matter what was going on, that God was absolutely in charge and that we had nothing to fear.

The last time we visited her was almost six years ago. Jeff and I flew to New York, where she lived, and drove upstate to the village of Scotia. And as we pulled up the narrow drive there she stood on her front porch. 90-years-old and standing tall. Skin glowing and figure trim. She was dignity, grace, elegance, peace. We stayed a few days with her, soaking up every word she said. We recounted to her our nightmarish San Jose story, how we were struggling with the direction of our life, how nothing seemed to be going how we thought it should.

And her two-word response has served as a beacon of hope in my life ever since.

“Nothing’s wasted.”

With God, nothing is wasted. Every roundabout. Every seeming detour. Every joy, every sorrow, every struggle, every victory. God uses everything for our good and His glory. For our sanctification and for the Kingdom of God. God is able to make all grace abound to us, can use all things for our good, can redeem every situation for His glory.

Absolutely nothing is wasted. As we walked away from her house, my eyes full of tears because I knew that that was probably the last time I would see her this side of eternity, I knew that God had brought me 3,000 miles to hear those two simple words.

Nothing’s wasted.

He used her voice to etch them into my heart. I still remember the table where she sat, the teacup I was holding, the light coming through the back window and her words washing over me with hope.

Nothing’s wasted.

And so, when the phone rang yesterday morning, I answered and heard my mom’s voice on the other end.

“Aunt Lois …” I knew what she would say. Held my breath. “Last night she stayed up for New Year’s Eve and had all her family over. She celebrated God’s faithfulness with them all, then went to sleep and silently slipped into the arms of Jesus.”

She must have liked to finish things too … maybe that’s where I get it from. *smile*

She celebrated her 96th New Year’s Eve, testifying to the grace of God then settled into her bed and into His arms.

Never was it more true that nothing is wasted than in her life.

She served Jesus faithfully. Loved her family. Smiled constantly. Rested in His grace continually. And lived out her belief that with God, nothing’s wasted.

New Year’s Day. What a perfect day to begin a New Year in Heaven!

I guess this makes my New Year’s Resolutions pretty simple. I want more than anything in the world to simply carry on her baton of authentic faith. To glow at 95 because God is good and there’s always reason to rejoice!

I know she would want us all to know, as we look into 2012, that nothing is wasted with God. He will use all our foibles, mistakes and victories. All our mis-steps and roundabouts and frustrations and detours.

We can rest and trust Him with all our tomorrows. However many we have …

{Thank you for reading and celebrating Aunt Lois’s life with me. Happy New Year!}

“I am reminded or your sincere faith, a faith that dwelt first in your grandmother Lois…” -1 Tim 1:5

 

I finished writing the little devotional on fear and sent it to Jeff.

“Great,” He replied. “Let’s each write up some discussion questions to go with it.” Super.  I scratched out some thoughts, but before I clicked send his own set of questions popped up in my inbox. His questions were these:

1. Can you think of a time this past year when you were afraid? How did you respond and how did it turn out?

2. How can you see ways that God is delivered you from fear? What is one area where you used to be afraid and now are not?

Fair enough, right? However, my questions were these:

1. What unknown in the future is making you afraid of right now? Is there anything looming ahead that’s causing you anxiety?

2. How can you take that thing and go to God in prayer? What would it look like, practically, to trust Him with your future in this area?

See the difference? So small, yet so profound.

My man is a past-oriented person. I, a future-oriented.

He actually pointed this out to me several months ago. I narrowed my eyes and listened, skeptical. Now I see it everywhere; we’re really ridiculous creatures.

• He loves to hold onto things. He keeps old clothes, pictures, books. For him they hold memories of the past.
• I’m a ruthless purger. Haven’t worn it in a year? How about 6-weeks? Close enough. Toss it out. Kids haven’t played with it? Toss it out. Keep moving forward. Make room for new things we’ll inevitably get in the future.
• He takes pictures. Remember the past.
• I never take pictures.  Keep moving forward!
• He never finishes the carton/bottle/box/bag/plate. Leave a little bit in there and keep it in the fridge/cupboard.
• I drink/eat whatever little bit is left just so I can toss out the container and move on!
• Jeff keeps receipts for decades.
• I throw them away as soon as I get home.
• Jeff loves studying history.
• I love studying things that motivate me toward a better tomorrow.
• The kicker? I have a dry-erase calendar on my fridge. I realized that I would erase every single day as soon as it was over, and would start over writing the next month in the blank spaces, so that at all times the calendar was all future dates. No record of what I’d done. Only un-lived days.
• He doesn’t have a dry-erase calendar because he’d never erase it.

Do you see? We really are all wired a little differently. Neither is better, but certainly very different. Thankfully, we’re learning from each other. Jeff is learning to throw away the ratty gym shorts and I’m learning to reflect, look back and bit and learn from yesterday before moving onto tomorrow.

And that’s what we need as we cross into 2012. 

Some of us, perhaps, are prone to gaze intently at the future. We’re ready, excited, climbed on board and racing toward another new year. Some of us, on the other hand, want to ride backwards on the train. can we just look behind and remember all the good. Reflect. Review?

We need both. So as we cross the year, perhaps we’d be blessed by setting aside some time for looking both ways? I’m looking forward to doing this tomorrow (haha! I even write with future-oriented language!), with Jeff, as we drive to Corvallis for the day. We’ll be asking ourselves these:

• What was your greatest victory this past year?
• What surprised you about the direction of your life this past year?
• What was harder than you thought it’d be?
• What was way better than you’d ever imagined?
• In what way have you changed from January 2011 to December 2011?

Just a few ideas to get started. Are you more past-oriented or future oriented in your thinking? I’m curious … Enjoy looking both ways as you cross into 2012, and I pray for God-inspired and God-initiated ideas, dreams, and reflections. {Thanks for reading.}

 

From the other room I can hear Dutch singing about his little light as he plays,

Hide it under a bushel? No! I’m gonna let it shine …

Hide it under a bushel? No! I’m gonna let it shine, let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

Children, blessedly self-forgetful, sing that song so happily and easily, don’t they? But it gets complicated as adults because we get complicated. As adults, boldly holding our “light” up in the air seems proud, obnoxious. And besides, isn’t “letting our light shine” contrary to scripture where it says not to toot your own horn and to let your giving be in secret? It doesn’t seem very modest to let your light shine. What, please, does this mean?

That’s what I was wondering as I read through the Sermon on the Mount the other morning.

Jesus says:

“You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 5:14-16).

“Beware of practicing your righteousness before other people in order to be seen by them, for them you will have no reard from your Father who is in heaven. Thus, when you give to the needy, sound no trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may be praised by others. Truly I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you” (Matt 6:1-4).

Do these contradict each other? At first it seems they do. Some thoughts:

:: Letting light shine is positional and natural. Blowing horns is loud and forced.  

To actually hide light takes effort. It doesn’t take much effort just to let it shine. It should be natural. Jesus isn’t saying we need to force anything, He’s just saying, Don’t hide the good work God is doing in and through you. If God is changing your habits, your desires, your family, don’t hide it. If people ask or you have a natural opportunity, openly share.  To hide what God has done in and through you is to rob Him of glory.

On the other hand, blowing horns is for those who don’t have any natural light to share. Their lives don’t shine so they must draw attention in loud and forced ways. In the words of DL Moody,

A holy life will produce the deepest impression. Lighthouses blow no horns; they only shine.

The real work of God will shine. Holiness, humility, the fruit of the Spirit, these things shine without a need for horns.

:: The two key questions are these: Who is this for? And Who gets the glory? 

Who is this for? They key clause in Matthew 6 was “in order to be seen by others.” The motive is the key, not necessarily being seen or unseen. Living for God or man? We can hide our light because we fear man, and we can blow our horn because we fear man. Oftentimes the difference in outward action is indiscernible, the only real difference is the motive. All our works are for God, but if others look on and see, hallelujah. Which brings us to...

Who gets the glory? Notice the light shines so that “others may see and give God glory” and yet the hypocrites blow their horns to receive “praise from men.”  It’s all about glory. God is all about His glory, and we all are prone to be glory hounds, seeking to steal what is rightfully God’s. Shining light gives glory to God, blowing horns draws attention to ourselves.

So perhaps two helpful questions to take with us are these:

Is this forced? and Who gets the glory? 

The real work of God in our lives will be characterized by humility and gratitude, and we will naturally shine. Insecurity will make us blow horns, but godly confidence will enable us to lean back, rest, abide, and shine for the glory of God. 

{Hide it under a bushel? No! I pray you let it shine today.

Thanks for reading…}

 

Where was Heidi?

Last week we were all cleaning up, singing the clean-up song, adding silly lyrics and being ridiculous, when I realized Heidi wasn’t in the room.  I peeked in the kitchen, not there, then pushed open our bedroom door. I heard a slight rustle so I silently tiptoed along the side of the bed and peered over the footboard.

She was peeking at a particular pink gift tucked into a gift-bag.

Startled, she looked up at me, eyes-wide, and her face froze. I knew what would happen. I was her 29 years ago. Her lower lip began to quiver and for several moments her face slowly contorted as she tried to hold it in — but it gushed out.

Wail. Sob. Hysterical crying. Caught guilty she melted in a heap of tears. I can remember exactly  the same feeling. I would do naughty things when I was little but had the most sensitive spirit, from a young age, that when “caught” (even “caught” in my heart, before my mom would know!) I would collapse, hysterical, ridden by guilt and conviction. My mom rarely had to spank me because I was so upset already that the discipline was already done.

I held out my arms to Heidi and she ran into them. Tears streaming down her face, burying her face in my neck, refusing to look up. Jeff, who had followed me in and seen the whole thing, began to talk to her. She hid her face deep in my neck, wouldn’t look up, wouldn’t look at him.

She sobbed, took a breath, “I wan’ go to bed.”

“It’s not bedtime — you want to go to bed now?”

“Yes! Pease I need go to bed!”

“Do you want to go to bed because you know you did naughty?”

She just broke down again, dug her face deeper in my neck, wouldn’t answer.    Oh sweet girl I understand.

“Heidi, I know you want to go to bed and hide because you did naughty, but Mommy is not mad.  I just want you to tell mommy you’re sorry for looking at things you shouldn’t, and ask mommy to forgive you.”

I thought it would take coaxing but it came quick. I remember that feeling too — tormented by guilt is a horrible place to be.

“Mommy, I sowey for looking at thing I shouldn’t. You please ‘uhgive me?”

I smiled wide, nuzzled her nose, make sure she sees my smile all the way through my eyes.

“Yes, baby-girl. I forgive you. Thank you for telling me. Mommy loves you.”  Then she asks if we can get a blanket and snuggle together.  Of course I find the softest one — the one from the foot of our bed — and we snuggle up together. Inhale each other’s breath.

“Mommy, I wan’ keep you forever.”

“I wan’ keep you forever too babygirl.”

–

Oh sweet girl, I remember being you. I remember sneaking into mom’s closet one December day 28 years ago. Seeing the brown stuffed teddybear with the homemade sweater mom had knit for it. I saw it, then was plagued with guilt. Overwhelmed. It ruined all the joy.

It made me want to hide.

Because that’s what sin does. Every time. From humanity’s first sin we’ve done it. What did Adam and Eve do right after eating the fruit? They hid from God.

Humanity’s been hiding ever since.  From God and from each other. 

But once again I will sing this same song: There is freedom in repentance.  As my son says it, “When we say sorry, Jesus forgives.” He does, when we confess our sin He is faithful and just to forgive us our sin and cleanse us of all unrighteousness. He pulls us close, looks us in the eyes, smiles a smile that warms our souls and heals all that’s broken.

Is there anything that’s making you hide, dear friend? That shame and guilt need not be yours! Go quick to confession — He’s waiting to hold you near. Thanks for reading ….

 

 This may be an odd after-Christmas greeting, but can I just be really honest for a second: Do you sometimes truly just despise yourself?

I mean despise. Do you sometimes look around at your life and realize how repulsive it is? No, I don’t mean you are some criminal or live some secret despicable life. I mean you live a real life. A “normal” life. And I tell you that this past week I cannot shake it. I look around and all I can think is, “Who am I kidding?”  Who on earth am I kidding?

The inclinations of my heart are wicked. I, who truly more than anything want to seek God and follow Him, I read the page in Romans 3 and the only thing missing is my name.

“None is righteous, no not one; no one understands; no one seeks for God. All have turned aside; together they have become worthless; no one does good, not even one.”

Like the meat rotting in the back of my car, I continually unearth pockets of pride in the corners of my life. (Every. Single. Day.)

And for a too many seconds I listen to the slithering serpent’s suggestion: Hide. Run away, hide it all. There is no “little light of mine” to shine so quit holding your ridiculous arm in the air. Who are you kidding?

And for a moment the offer looks good. Run away. Hide. Just cover up that rotten meat. Duct-tape up the windows so no one can see in. Get the bushel and crawl underneath.

And then, by some miracle. Christmas comes.

And I read ofL’Enchante.

And I remember again that Christ came to a stinking stable. A stinking stable.

It might as well have been my home.

And if I am hung up on my poor performance I have not understood His perfect performance. I have not understood the gospel. His resumé in place of mine. His beauty for my ashes. His joy for my sorrow. His riches for my poverty. His righteousness for my rags.

I can hang Christmas lights around my home but it still reeks of the sinners who inhabit these rooms. Without His daily grace we are utterly lost. He came into the filthiest places. I will cling to this. And I will trust this, when I look down, in, deep, and see the absolute bankruptcy of my soul, I will not get lost in the darkness but turn, look up and hear:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

Christmas may be over, but what if we lingered in the stable? I am always the first to leave. I don’t want to wear out my welcome. Never want to let that silent awkwardness set in. Leave before it gets too quiet. Keep things moving along.

But what if, this week, before we looked ahead to 2012,  we lingered a little by His side? Like L’Enchante. And when we looked around that stinky stable we might recognize our own home. Our own lives. And we might find ourselves bowed low all week in humble thanks that He has entered our filth and is making us new. What if we lingered in our adoration? The tree will come down, the wrapping paper stuffed into trash bags, fir needles vacuumed, stockings stowed for yet another year.

But what if we stayed low, kneeling to adore Him? What if, just as we slowly, carefully, prepare through advent, what if we slowly, carefully, reflected upon His birth this week? What if we were careful to look back before we dare look forward?

I really just want to stay here and adore Him. I think you probably do too. And I know my home is a stinking stable and my heart is even worse, but He came into this place and He is here and He is mine and nothing can separate me from the love of God. 

{Linger this week by His side. He is in the middle of your mess. Stop, bow, worship Him there. Thank you for letting me be real in this place. And thanks for reading.”.