Sacred Mundane: The Blog

Walking with God is always an adventure, isn’t it?  Sometimes I forget, but it always floors me when I look back and see the thread of His hand through my moments, days, weeks, years.

So this trip has been… so so.  I don’t mean to be negative, but it just hasn’t been exactly what I’d had in mind. All I mean by that is that somehow I’d envisioned constant sunny skies, friendly Southern hospitality, trails, parks, beauty, and lots of ice cream.  I told Jeff I think sometimes it’s a curse to be really optimistic–I always believe that things are going to be awesome, amazing.  And then when things aren’t I tell myself they are, and that if I keep choosing to believe they are then I’ll be happy. I’ve mentioned this before in my story of the green walls. It’s not really a virtue as much as a coping mechanism. If I believe things are awesome then they will be, right?  Actually that’s a characteristic of 2-year-olds, I’ve learned–they believe that if they say something it becomes reality (Dutch: “It’s not dark outside.” Meaning, that he doesn’t want to go to bed.)

Anyway, it poured down rain, I got lost a million gazillion times trying to drive around this city, and Jeff was gone from morning until night every day.  So finally, yesterday afternoon, the sun came out, Jeff finished up his conference at 4pm, and we had the pleasure of a really great Tex-Mex dinner, ice cream, and the joy of just being together.  Ahh…finally. This is what I was waiting for. Yay!  Then…just a couple hours later, while Heidi was sleeping, she started choking and coughing and acting like she couldn’t breathe.   Yeah, panic.  I had noticed kind of strange noises for a while, but she she was gagging and coughing like she couldn’t breathe, I grabbed her, got her upright, helped her breathe, and then did what every parent does: panicked.  We through on some clothes, went downstairs, got directions to the hospital, and drove out into the middle of the night, in this maze of a city, looking for the pediatric hospital.  By some God-ordained helpers along the way, we pulled in, talked to the pediatric nurse, and realized Heidi just had croup–some kind of virus that leads to a horrible barking cough and wheezy breathing.  So we came home and spent the night up with her, taking turns sitting in the bathroom with the shower on, walking her around, getting her fresh air, etc.   This morning she was still coughing, and we were totally exhausted.  We’d had plans to attend the small church of a guy who Jeff cooresponds with through blogging, but we knew it met in an old nightclub in downtown…not exactly where we wanted her to be, and as a really small church not the place you can take a hacking baby and remain unnoticed.

As I showered this morning, exhausted, the selfish thought entered my mind–what a waste.  Sure I’ve read some good books, but i could have done that at home.  Just when Jeff gets done and we were going to get some time together, Heidi gets sick.  So we spend our onlyvacation day together sitting in a dark, steamy hotel bathroom.

I know that’s totally selfish, but those were my thoughts.  So, after we got ready, we still needed food, plus Heidi did way better in the car, upright in her seat, so we drove around for an hour or so, drinking coffee while she contently slept. Then Jeff had an idea to go to The Austin Stone, a church in the heart of the city that’s grown to several thousand people.  We figured we could keep her in her carseat, stand in the back, and not be disruptful.  We found it, went inside, and felt right at home.

And then aaahhhh…my soul found its rest in the presence of God, worshipping with the multitudes. Tears filled my eyes as we sang The Stand, and as I stood in the very back, looking at the thousands of outstretched arms reaching to the heavens.   Jeff had had an amazing experience at his conference, but this was my turn.  Heidi fussed some, but we were able to make it through the service and hear the message, on waste.

The pastor shared a story of how just last year he and a group of pastors traveled to South Asia for a series of meetings on missions.  They’d obviously spent thousands of dollars getting there, orchestrating all the meetings, etc. Then, when they got there, he and the guys he was with got jumped by some thugs, robbed, beat up, and the guy who jumped him knifed his face open from his temple to his chin.  The pictures were gruesome.  After getting treatment, they had to return home.  He couldn’t help but think—what a waste. All that money, time, energy—for nothing.

He then taught the story of Mary, who broke her alabaster flask and anointed Jesus’ feet.  The cost of that flask was almost a year’s wages–so we’re talking probably the equivalent of $40-$50 THOUSAND dollars worth, all contained in her flask. It was probably her dowry, her worth as a marriageable woman.  All she owned. Broken, poured out, wasted on Jesus’ feet of all things.  The disciples, very logically and godly and wisely, insisted there would certainly be a better use of those resources than dumping $50K on Jesus’ feet!  I would have thought the same thing. Or, wouldn’t it have been so much smarter, to pour the oil into three containers, use 1/3 of the money for the poor, 1/3 of the money for her dowry, and a 1/3 of the oil use to offer to Jesus? That seems wise!  Or, she could have worshiped him with words, she could have hugged Him, kissed Him, praised Him.  Come on, I mean, really?! You have to waste all that good money by dumping it on the floor.

But Jesus thought it was a beautiful waste.  He commends her, and then amazingly chooses to record it in Scripture, so that this woman’s story would be told around the world for the rest of history to know.  He thought the waste was beautiful.

One of my favorite pieces of wisdom I’ve ever received was from my great-aunt, who is now 94 and stunningly beautiful and the most amazing godly woman I know. She told me, four years ago: “Nothing’s wasted.”  And I’ve always tucked that way in my heart. But the important qualification for that truth is that nothing’s wasted that is given to God.  Lots is wasted.  People waste their lives all the time.  The woman in the story could have dumped her alabaster flask into the trash and it would have truly been wasted. Utterly wasted. But “wasted” on the feet of Jesus meant that not a drop was wasted, it was invested with the highest return–the glory of God, the worship of Jesus, the love and praise of the Savior. That is beautiful waste.

And the beauty of the anointing wasn’t in the value of the flask’s contents–it was in the value of the sacrifice.  We know throughout Scripture, from Abraham to David to the widow with the two mites to Mary and her flask, that the value of our offering is not in what we give, but in what we give up.  Yes, there is a double meaning there.  What we give up is what we sacrifice, which is the true measure of our worship. And, sorry for the pun–what we give up is given upwards to God, with His glory as the intended aim.  The value of our worship is what we give up, what we waste for His sake.

Wow. Talk about a well-timed message.  Though perhaps the time I spent whining about a disapointing trip is indeed a true waste, the time I’ve spent reading the Word, reading good books, cuddling on the bed with my daughter, praying and planning with Jeff about our parenting strategy, making goals for this year, worshipping my Lord in song with a thousand beautiful people who call on His name.  None of that is wasted.

And what of my sacrifice? I told Jeff in the car afterwards, “I’ve sacrificed nothing, ever.”  We have such an amazing blessed life.  Everything I’ve tried to give to God He seems to always end up giving back.  I look around at people who have given up so much, and our lives seem so teeming full of rich blessing.  What is my sacrifice?  The pastor suggested many things this morning as he encouraged us to identify our own alabaster flask, what is it we can waste on his feet?  I waited, asking God what mine could be.  Then one thing he mentioned made tears slip silently down my cheek.  Giving up my time, my ambitions, my dreams, my preferences, to lay down my life for my kids, to giving every ounce of my being to investing in them to be Christ followers, Kingdom advancers, lovers of God.  That seems so natural, but for me it’s not. It’s hard for me.  Giving time and energy to doing women’s ministry … pause, I have to say this… is not a sacrifice for me. It’s fun. Thrilled. Rewarding.  Getting degrees, reading, learning, teaching—all of those things are good and I’ll keep doing them, but they are not sacrifice.  They’re thrilling, rewarding, self-gratifying in a way.  The one thing in my life which — I know this sounds horrible but it’s the truth! — is not very gratifying right now is mommying.  And as the silent tear slipped down my cheek I realized that was my alabaster flask.  How appropriate that as I heard those words I was standing in the hallway, just outside the sanctuary, holding my daughter upright to keep her from coughing, bouncing her softly and letting her pat my face with her soft, doughy hands, kissing her feverish, sweaty head.  Right there in my arms was the answer to my question.  Right under my nose.

So as we pack up our bags tonight and prepare for our early flight in the morning, I’m praying for God to show me how to live this beautiful waste, how to fight the gnawing hunger for productivity, turn the clock to the wall, and wastefully invest in the two precious souls He’s entrusted to my care.  One of them is coughing, so I must go.  Let my life be a beautiful waste, O God.

As many of you know, this morning at 3am we drug ourselves out of bed, and by 4am were on the road to the airport to catch our 6am flight to Austin, Texas.  That’s right, Texas!  Jeff is attending a ministry conference here called The Verge, so I get to tag along and have a little vacation with Heidi.  I’ve been so excited!!  It’s been awhile since Jeff and I have gone away without our little monkey, Dutch–and although I miss him like crazy, it is nice to have a little time with Heidi, who usually goes unnoticed because of her rather dominant brother.  She is taking to the attention like a fish to water and I’m afraid perhaps she’ll get too used to it and have a rude awakening when we get back home.

So I’ve been preparing for this trip and thinking a lot about being Away from Home, because we’ve been studying through the book of 1 Peter for our women’s Bible study, and Peter’s big idea is that we are all pilgrims and sojourners, away from our true Home in heaven with Christ, on a journey here on earth. It is our temporary home.  So this past Monday/Tuesday I taught 1 Peter 2:1-12, and the notes aren’t coherent enough to post here, but if you’d really like to listen you are welcome, I think you can find it here, if you scroll down to Bible study–you can also hear the first two messages as well if you’re so inclined.

But now that I’m actually here, in Texas, after a full day of flights, rental cars, getting lost, unfolding maps that take up the entire front seat, feeding Heidi little bits of french fries like a baby bird in the back seat… now I’m reminded all over again about some of the lessons of being Away from Home.

Everything’s harder. I should have reminded myself that the first day of vacation (which includes travel) is awful.  Especially with kids. It’s exciting, but getting up at 3am and not resting again until 7pm is just plain tiring.  And although Heidi didn’t cry much on the flights, she never slept a wink–ALL DAY LONG, and was only happy if she was bounced or fed or played with.  Which led to one tired mommy.  The fun part was that we’re making a surprise video for a certain church staff member, and we had a blast doing that. But by the time this evening rolled around, I put Heidi down to bed at 7 and she cried for 2 hours (overtired, new environment, not real dark), I was so tired I had to ask myself, “Wait, why am I doing this again?”  Then Jeff reminded me of my message the day before. I know I know I know…I hate it when things I teach come back to convict me. 🙂  All that to say, it’s all just harder when you’re away from home.  Routine things take so much longer and take so much more effort. Bedtime at home takes me 5 minutes…here it took 2 hours.

It’s easy to just get lost. I thought Jeff and I were both good with directions. We’ve driven Chicago, Boston, LA, Seattle…we’re faily competant–or at least I thought. For some reason Austin has us all mixed up.  The location of our hotel is like a black hole. If you miss something you’ll end up driving around and around unable to get to it–and once you’re here, it’s hard to figure out how to get out. It’s hard to explain, but it’s just a really odd location.  Today we drove for 2 hours to go get dinner, and ended up finally going to the Wendy’s across the street from our hotel.  It sounds pathetic, I know.  For some reason we just wound up all over the place.

You don’t have what you need. As much as you try to pack it all, it always seems like we don’t end up with what we need. Heidi’s sippy cup didn’t make it to the suitcase, and that silly girl didn’t seem to like it when I tried to help her drink ice water from a regular cup on the plane and it poured down the front of her shirt.  I packed practical shoes, but not practical for the DOWNPOUR that they are experiencing here in Austin. Who knew it would be pouring down rain and freezing cold (40s) and everyone would be wearing rainboots and using umbrellas?  Silly Portland people came unprepared.

People don’t really know you, and you don’t know them. So we’re doing this silly video, which meant I had to talk to a bunch of strangers and get them to go along with me in this silly thing. A lot of them were pretty skeptical. And rightly so…they don’t know me from Adam.  It’s hard to earn trust, and it’s hard to trust.  Similarly, for some reason I’d thought I’d feel totally comfortable walking around the streets of Austin on my own with Heidi, hiking and exploring the city, just like I would back home. Not so much. For some reason people look a little scarier. I went into a grocery store today and very quickly felt out of place… nothing dangerous, I was just in an interesting neighborhood and hadn’t realized it, and I was happy to find Jeff waiting for me outside.

You’re real tired but can’t sleep. I don’t think there is any spiritual parallel to this one. It’s just that I love my bed at home and Jeff is out late tonight and Heidi’s making little snorting noises while she sleeps…and I’m sitting here, exhausted but unable to sleep.  Hence the blog post.  Not much seriously significant, but tomorrow we’re exploring the University of Texas campus, and a sweet looking strip called Burnet street, lined with eclectic consignment and second-hand shops (Yes, Mom, Jeff will be with me–his conference starts at 3pm).  Goodnight, ya’ll.