Sacred Mundane: The Blog

This morning I drank coffee.  I’m not usually a coffee drinker, but while in Salt Lake visiting my brother and his wife and their daughter, I had 1/2 a cup of coffee each morning, because Nikki has delicious creamer in my favorite flavor, Toffee Nut.  Who can pass up fresh coffee with creamy Toffee Nut?.  My favorite part of coffee with Toffee Nut is the delicious aftertaste.  At first, it’s super sweet and has that bitter coffee bite perfectly balanced, but after you let it rest in your mouth and swallow, then you get the nutty bite mixed with the coffee that you can taste and smell as you exhale … mmm. 

There are other aftertastes that are pretty gross.  Like California or Arizona tap water.  It makes me gag just thinking about it.  As an Oregon water snob, it’s just impossible to drink that tap water without plugging my nose or diluting it with juice or something.  You don’t notice the water’s that bad when it goes down, but then the aftertaste … that’s where it hits you between the eyes. No thanks.

But what I love about some experiences are that you sometimes don’t have the full appreciation of how sweet or profound or wonderful something is until right afterwards, until that glorious aftertaste.  This week, as you know, I spent in Salt Lake City, Utah, with Kris and Nikki and Jennika, their adorable 7-month-old daughter. Now back home this afternoon, I mused about the trip while I did the laundry, unpacked clothes, and tidied the house.  I realized that I experienced zero stress while on this trip.  Now, get this.  I traveled alone with a wild and crazy 15-month-old boy who never sat still the entire 4 days. And yes, I am tired right now and happy to have my own bed.   But I experienced this inexpressable joy the entire time that I cannot explain except for the grace of God.  On both plane rides (and the one home was pretty hairy!), I had this overwhelming joy and peace.  Even on the way home, when we almost missed our flight (they had already pulled the ramp away from the plane and started the safety instructions on board!), ran the entire length of the terminal, when Dutch’s ears were painful and he wouldn’t eat or drink so in desperation I nursed my enormous 15-month-old boy, stretching his legs out on the poor young man to my right, doing my best with my little sweater as a cover-up, letting Dutch’s head hang out into the aisle (!).  It was so much fun!  And I think part of it, as I think about it, was that it was a rare jewel of a time for Dutch and me to have together, must mommy and son.  Now I’m not complaining, but just because of our living situation, I don’t often feel like I don’t get those special “just us” times, or, come to think of it, perhaps I do but I just don’t pay attention enough to savor them when they come.  But this time I savored them.  Last night, Dutch couldn’t sleep, and after listening to him scream for 20 minutes while I lay face down on my bed, I finally asked God, “God, what should I do?”  and I know I heard Him say, “Go get him.”  So I went in and held him, went over to the rocking chair (this is the boy who REFUSES to be rocked) and was amazed as he melted in my arms as I gently rocked him.  Two minutes later he was alseep. 

And because I didn’t have meals to make, homework to do (well, I did but I ignored it), and a house to clean, guess what I did?  Played!  We played trucks, we wrestled in the grass outside, we swung, we went down the slide, we just played, and I enjoyed and savored every second of it. 

I think the other part of the absolute sweetness of the trip was the fact that my brother and his wife are some of the most remarkable people on earth.  Sincere, genuine people who love the Lord with all their hearts and give themselves to bless others.  Their house is comfortable, big enough to plenty of guests, but not stuffy or showy.  Nikki had planned all my favorite meals, had the pantry stocked with our favorite treats.  Worship music gently plays at all times.  A basket full of trucks occupied Dutch, and Nikki doesn’t bat an eyelash at having her house strewn with little boy toys.  We hiked Devil’s canyon, saw a herd of elk, ate a post-hike feast at Denny’s, walked along the Jordan river, played at a litle park, did a short hike down to a partially ice-covered beautiful pristine little lake with ducks, surrounded by enormous slabs of granite.  And last night Kris and Nikki skipped their Bible study, to stay home with me.  Both babies were exhausted, so after they fell asleep, we stayed up until 10:30pm talking, eating my favorite thing in the world, sweet mango with sticky rice. 

When we got to the airport, they parked and came with me to help with our luggage (stroller, car seat, suitcase!) and followed me all the way to security.  As I kissed them goodbye and watched them walk away, I was thankful for a son so I could kneel and hide my face next to his while I cried.  I cry not because I’m sad that they are in Utah. I’m happy for that.  It’s where they belong. I can see that.  But I cry just because I love them so much.  I’m in awe of a God who is so good to give me such a wonderful brother and sister-in-law.  And as I kissed my boy, I sat in awe of a God who gave me such a delicious little boy.  And as I sit here right now, with Dutch fast sleep in his bed, I anticipate finally seeing my husband, who is on his way home from a retreat.  Coming home from being apart is one of my favorite parts of marriage — I don’t like being apart, but the coming home part sure is fun! 

I know–this is all over the road, but I guess I can just agree with the psalmist who said “my cup runneth over” (Ps. 23:5).  Indeed mine does.  And as I drink of its fullness, I savor the sweetness of all that God has done and who He is.  And today I savor the delicious aftertaste of time with my brother, with Nikki, with Jennika.  Of time with my little son.  And of the days ahead, because “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever” (Ps. 23:6). Read More

Click here to read a beautiful rendition of 1 Corinthians 13–the love chapter, rewritten with us in mind.  Amen and amen!

Well today is the first day of my one-year clothing fast (fasting from buying new clothes).  I did go last weekend and get a few essentials, 2 neutral t-shirts and some brown shoes, just to make sure I have my bases covered.  So what better way to celebrate than by visiting … Salt Lake City (no, there is no connection whatsoever, it just happens that I’m visiting SLC).  My brother, Kris, and his wife and daughter live here in Salt Lake, and Dutch and I scored some cheap tickets and decided to take the week to visit.  We haven’t seen them since they moved in December, so this is a real treat!  Jennika is 7 months old and adorable (other people say that too, it’s not just because I’m her aunty.  Visit their blog to the right and see for yourself!) 

I wanted to post a quick entry about the flight because any of you who follow us know what a nightmare the last time was (click here to read Breastfeeding a Wild Animal on an Airplane)  So, I was a little hesitant to try again, especially alone, and especially with a son who now walks and is ten times more active than before.  But, I just have to praise God because He heard our prayers!  They changed my seat so that I was in the very front row–so I had tons of leg room, and then the seat next to me was empty, (only 2 seats per row) so we had both the aisle and the window.  Plus, since Dutch is older now, he actually enjoyed looking out the windows, pointing at the trucks, and looking at the mountains.  He played happily with his trucks in the vacant seat next to us, ate crackers and cheerios, flirted unashamedly with the flight attendant (who flirted back, I might add!), played trucks with the man across the aisle, and played peekaboo with the elderly gentleman behind us.  Basically, he was an absolute doll.  Then, my boy who NEVER sleeps in the car, fell asleep in Kris’s car on the way home.  Then, when I tried the absolutely impossible task of transferring Dutch to the crib (mind you, this has never, never been done successfully), he actually stayed asleep and has no been asleep for over an hour.  Yeah, wonders never cease.

So, those of you without kids may read this and think that it’s a little ridiculous for me to be blogging about such trivial matters.  But parents, oh you understand.  Do you ever understand.  Thank you, Lord, for the opportunity to be here … and for Your gracious hand on our trip. 

Tonight (for class) I read and reflected for an hour on a chapter from Don Postema’s book Space for God.  I wouldn’t necessarily recommend the book, not that it’s not good, it’s just that there are so many others out there that I’d recommend first!  But this chapter was my favorite, and it was on the Justice & Compassion side of prayer. His connection comes from Matthew 5:23-24:

So when you are offering your gift on the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift.

Postema rightly concludes that if we truly followed this, we’d never get back to the altar at all!  For who is completely free from others having something against them.  Even if total justice and compassion has been shown to their family, what about the poor, the suffering, those who our religion and country have oppressed?  Who can stand and say no one has anything against them? None of us.  So they are linked.  Prayer leads to an understanding, a hearing, if you will, the cry of the oppressed.  Prayer the leads us to “leave it” (in a sense) to take the cause of those who suffer, and in this we are continuing in prayer. 

Consider this version of Isaiah 58:6-11

Is not this what I require of you as a fast: to loose the fetters of injustice, to untie the knots of the yoke, to stop every yoke and set free thsoe who have been crushed?  Is it not sharing your food with the hungry, taking the homeless poor into your house, clothing the natked when you meet them and never evading a duty to your kinsfolk?  Then shall your light break forth like the dawn and soon you will grow healthy like a wound newly healed; your own righteousness shall be your vanguard and the glory of the Lord your rearguard.  Then, if you call, the Lord will answer; if you cry to him, the answer will be: “Here I am.”   If you cease to pervert justice, to point the accusing finger and lay false charges, if you feed the hungry from your own plenty and satisfy the needs of the wretched, then your light will rise like dawn out of darkness and your dusk be like noonday; the Lord will be your guide continually and will satisfy your needs in the shimmering heat; he will give you strength of limb; you will bel ike a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail. 

Something in me just springs to life when I read this.  Yes!  That is it.  And I think what I’m sensing is that, miracle of all miracles, God is beginning to birth in my heart a genuine (albeit very small) love for people.  For those of you who read my New Year’s Resolutions (click there to see), my banner goal was simply to love people.  I am so stinking low on love.  How can I call myself a Christian if I don’t have love, real genuine love for people? 

I heard about the most convicting thing yesterday it made me want to throw up.  A question was asked of a pastor who speaks nationally about creating missional churches–churches whose goal and focus is truly to build the kingdom of God.  He was asked how to instigate change in churches that just don’t have this kingdom mindset, who don’t teach the Word, who don’t stimulate true growth, who don’t spread the gospel.  Well, first he answered, you need to ask yourself this question–Why am I here, at this church?  Am I here because it’s a career step–a place to get my foot in the door until I can do real stuff, “bigger and better” stuff?  Pow.  Then he said to ask yourself, “Do you love the people?  Really.  Do you love the people?”  Double pow.  Then he concluded:  “If you’re there because you genuinely love the people, and you want to see genuine life change and a church set on fire to be on mission with God … then what it takes is time.  Lots and lots and lots and lots of time.”

So, all of this fits together.  First, I am challenged to let my prayer life ignite in me a conviction that a Christian life that is not moving in this world as the hands and feet of Jesus is not a real Christian life.  Secondly, I am challenged as I realize that I might be all excited to go and talk to Jesse, the homeless guy in Portland, about the gospel and give him food and clothes, but am I willing to get on the same level as the people in my small town, to lay aside the perceived gaps and learn to speak their language?  Do I love them?  I think …. I think … that I’m starting to.  The little flicker of genuine love for people that is in my heart is pretty small, but I can feel it, flickering, struggling, lighting up the darkness of selfish ambition and vain conceit in my heart. 

Lord, give me love for people.  Turn my prayer to action.  Make me sick with compassion and uncomfortable with conviction, so that I’ll turn outward and love people for Your sake.  In Jesus’ name and for His sake. AMen.