I was jerked awake at precisely 5:27 by a squirming knot in my stomach. Its cause was this dreadful realization: I had parked in a place where I could get a ticket... or possibly towed. Rushing outside with an impending sense of doom, waves of relief washed over me as I saw my fabulous, enormous, wood-paneled wagon still sitting in the lot (next to a tiny smart car, which gave me quite a laugh) completely ticket free.
Praise the Lord!
—Not even for sparing me a headache and inconvenience, really, but for this: I was dragged out of bed in a frenzy, fully expecting the worst, only to step out the front door and literally have my breath taken away by one of the most glorious sunrises I've ever seen. Vivid magenta clouds illuminated the horizon, ribbons of crimson and gold reaching their spindly fingers up into the retreating darkness. And in that moment, I was struck by the overwhelming mercy of my Savior.
So I drove to Cup of Joe, got some chai, and sat on the river, drinking in God's word and the splendor of His creation. But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. “The LORD is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.”
"You must never feel badly about making mistakes," explained Reason quietly, "as long as you take the trouble to learn from them. For you often learn more by being wrong for the right reasons than you do by being right for the wrong reasons." "But there's so much to learn," Milo said, with a thoughtful frown. "Yes, that's true," admitted Rhyme, "but it's not just learning things that's important. It's learning what to do with what you learn and learning why you learn things at all that matters."
Jesus came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone lay against it. Jesus said, "Take away the stone." Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, "Lord, by this time there will be an odor, for he has been dead four days." Jesus said to her, "Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?" So they took away the stone. And Jesus liften up his eyes and said, "Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this on account of the people standing around, that they may believe that you sent me." When he said these things, he cried out with a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out." The man who had died came out, his hands and feet bound with linen strips, and his face wrapped with a cloth. Jesus said to them, "Unbind him and let him go."
[John 11:38-44]
As I view God as the Author of the universe, I like to think he is the ultimate expert at literary devices. I have to admit that I'm a bit of a nerd; I geeked out when I got to this passage in John. The foreshadowing, the metaphors... It's all so exciting! Partially because it's great literature, and partially because its implications affect the lives of everyone who has ever lived. Right now I wanna hop out of this specific event in order to look at the broader implications, because I believe that this story isn't just about Jesus raising a man from the dead—which is awe-inspiring and incredible on it's own. I believe it's also a pre-game show for Christ's own death and resurrection— GET READY, PEOPLE: IT'S GONNA BE BIG— in addition to a picture of what it looks like when He rescues us from our sinful state of spiritual death. I've got 5 bits of goodness. Ready?
"Lord, by this time there will be an odor, for he has been dead four days."
You know, sometimes I think that God made decomposing things smell so revolting to us as a kind of metaphor in order that we might understand how despicable sin is in His eyes. Now, the only thing I remember learning about math throughout my high school education was this: if A=B and B=C, then A=C. In other words, if people are sinful and sin is death, then people are dead in their sin. Yet Jesus descended from eternal bliss into this sin-infested mire without blinking. He doesn't care about the hopeless, disgusting state of people when we're dead— no matter how revolting it is to him. The living people around him are like, are you sure you wanna go there? It's gross. Have you ever smelled something that's dead? Naaaaasssstyy. BIT NUMBER ONE:Christ forges on into our filth anyway;
he cares about us thatmuch.
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"Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?"
Not if you do well enough in school. Not if enough people say you're a nice person. Not if you're successful enough at work. Not if you're a good enough friend, neighbor, child, sibling, or parent. Not even if you're a good enough Christian. BIT NUMBER TWO: The prerequisite for seeing God's glory
is NOTHING MORE than believing.
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"Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this on account of the people standing around, that they may believe that you sent me."
Jesus is constantly chatting with the Father; I'm pretty convinced they have that whole telepathy thing going on... But I think the moments when Jesus decides to communicate with Him verbally are the sweetest, because we know that he's only doing it so that we can hear.
R.A. Torrey said,
"The chief purpose of prayer is that God may be glorified in the answer."
Isn't that beautiful? I mean, it's not like God is unaware of your needs until you tell Him about them. "Oh, good heavens— I didn't see you down there!" But when we ask God for things— and get them— we know that they came from God and can thank Him for them and give Him the praise and honor He deserves. Check out Jesus' prayer. He's thanking God and bearing witness that the miracle he's about to perform came solely from Him. What a classy fella. BIT NUMBER THREE: Every miracle is done so the people who see it will know
it came from God.
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"Lazarus, come out."
What a boss! This one is short and sweet. BIT NUMBER FOUR: The nature of the universe, the laws of physics, life and death...
Jesus has authority over everything.
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"Unbind him and let him go."
This, at first glance, seems like the least important bit of dialogue in the entire passage. Like, kay... Obviously we don't want Lazarus to be mummified now that he's up and at it. But hear me out for a second: The strips of linen used to wrap corpses were soaked in oil, spices, and perfumes; this was a Jewish custom with no other purpose than to keep the body from stinking so much. The stench of death was disgusting to them... Sound familiar? Except, instead of trying to cover up the smell of death, Jesus reverses death. He makes perfume obsolete. Do you understand the implications of that? The first time I read it, I didn't. In our sinful state, we do stuff to try to make us seem less filthy. We try to train ourselves to be kind, generous, and thoughtful. We toil after perfection and try to be "good people" in order to cover up the stench of our rotting, sinful souls. With half-hearted attempts, we wrap our crappiness up in failed imitations of good deeds, always tainted with selfishness and pride. Just like spraying perfume on a rotting corpse, we know we're fighting a losing battle. But Christ says, "unbind him and let him go." He doesn't bring extra-strength deodorant to the table; he wipes the slate clean, starting over from scratch. Christ makes us new creations. We don't have to constantly cover up our shameful sin, because HE HAS SET US FREE. BIT NUMBER FIVE:We no longer have to strive after our own righteousness, because
Christ's is sufficient.
[Hebrews 10:14]
For by a single offering, Christ has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified.
I have seen exactly one episode of Glee in my life, and all I can remember is each person receiving a t-shirt with their major insecurity written on it in large, bold letters. T-shirts reading, "FOUR-EYES" or "GINGER" or "CAN'T DANCE", and then there was some sort of happy message about how we should all own our flaws because they make us beautiful. Put on your stretchy thinking caps, everyone: A fast food chain recently threw two groups of people into the spotlight— homosexuals and Christians— sparking a hateful, viral battle of opinions. And I gotta be honest, all I see are t-shirts donning either "GAY" or "CHICK-FIL-A". Gadzooks, it's Glee in real life! [Allow me, for a moment, to explain myself.] Homosexuality is a lifestyle sin. It forces gays to wear their sin like t-shirts for the world to see. And, hey, this is also often true for prostitutes, thieves, and murderers. Theirs is a brokenness that shows on the outside. Like a t-shirt. Get it? Here's where it all falls down: In my interactions with people whose sin is evident to me, I work very hard to show love and kindness and grace. I strive to withhold judgement and look past imperfections. Every once and a while, despite my efforts to act impartially, I catch myself harboring arrogance that makes me feel sick to my stomach; I realize that even if I don't act like it, I'm positively filled with pride. When I read through the records of Jesus's life, it becomes very apparent to me that the sin for which he had the greatest distaste was pridefulness. Jesus ate dinner with sinners. He spent time with them and showed them real love. It was the Pharisees— those who thought they knew everything and followed all the rules— whom Jesus would not tollerate. Does it strike anybody else as cruelly unfair that, because of the different natures of our sins, I'm allowed to hide mine while others must parade theirs around on display, open to public ridicule? I let people see the 'good' things that I do and coast by on the assumption that no one can see my sin because it's internal. Who do I think I am?
—1 Samuel 16:7—
"For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.”
My t-shirt is pearly white. Which is great, except that it's covering up my rotting flesh. So who do I think I am? In hindsight, I think I'm a moron.
— — — — —— — — — — — —
I saw a post on twitter a while back that said, I LOVE GAY PEOPLE. Or as I sometimes like to call them, "people" And I don't know if that makes you laugh or shocks you, causes you to smile or to promptly close this window...... But I think that's beautiful.
Every person who has ever lived
—apart from one—
has lived with sin that had the power to destroy their soul.
And the One who lived without sin?
He became sin for us —all of us— that we might be free from it. FREE. "Because Jesus was strong for me, I wasfree to be weak; Because Jesus won for me, I wasfree to lose; Because Jesus was Someone, I wasfree to be no one; Because Jesus was extraordinary, I wasfree to be ordinary; Because Jesus succeeded for me, I wasfree to fail." (-Tullian Tchividjian)
And I love this freedom. I love not being condemned for my sin. I love that I am free from failure because of what Christ did for me. If I'm so in raptures at this freedom, shouldn't I extend the same freedom to absolutely everyone I encounter? Uh, YES. This starts with openness regarding my own sin, and real love in spite of theirs.
I'm not owning my flaws because they make me beautiful;
I'm owning my flaws because they show that He truly is.
People always ask what my favorite season is. I wish there was a label for each mini-transformation stage between each season, cause those are clearly the best.
I always say winter, though, not because of the weather, but because all the best things happen in winter:
For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made, so that men are without excuse.
The best thing about creation, I think, is it's inherent and never-ending flux. When I think about it, I know I'm the most joyful at the turn of the seasons: When the leaves just begin changing colors and it's brisk in the mornings.. At the very first snow when the world is completely transformed... When there are still heaps of melting ice here and there, but tiny buds start poking up out of the frozen ground... And when the rain and the wind of spring in Iowa take a break and we get that first cloudless, sunny morning and everybody just exhales slowly and breathes in the calm, warm summer air.
It's seeing God at work.
I thrive on change, my soul finding peace in those moments when I'm assured that life is moving on, continuing the ebb and flow, watching the earth being born and growing and dying and having new life rise out of the ashes... And the best truth of this life: in Christ, we're new creations as well.
All I want is time. Free, expansive, unimpeded time. to do with as I please. Time to play my guitar. All I want to do is play my guitar until my fingers bleed. And then I'll superglue them shut and play more, more, more. I want time to create art, as much as I want, in whatever medium I want at my own leisurely pace, with no one telling me that taking the ACT and applying for colleges is more important. My grandchildren won't care how many colleges I applied to. They won't treasure my test scores and show them to their children. My great-grandmother's paintings are hanging all around my house. I want time to read, and not, like, obscure excerpts from King Lear or random short stories about racial tension that my AP lit teacher piles on us. I want to get lost in scripture for hours and not have to worry about anything but what is pouring into me. Last night I was 34 psalms deep ...when I got a text from a friend. There are other distractions in my life that I want to have the option of escaping from. I want to re-read all my favorite books, and I want time to sit for an hour after i've finished them, and just revel in their poetic construction and meaning. I want time to laugh with my nieces. And not worry about all the other pressing, 'important' things I need to be doing. I want to swing and play dress-up and sing for hours. I want time to go on a walk. just walk around in the cold and the still and the silence and marvel at my Creator's creation. That would be the greatest christmas present ever, besides maybe the guitar that my mom is trying to hide in her room, if someone were to simply ask me if I would like to go on a walk. where to? where ever we end up. nothing else to do today nothing we should be worrying about no deadlines to meet. I've already taken the stupid ACT... I want to take an entire day to just call all the people I haven't spoken with since summer, people whose lives I wanted to invest it to a great extent, until I let my busy schedule get in the way. There's no excuse for that. There were ministry opportunities that faded away as I watched from behind my planner filled with scratchy notes and reminders. I feel like there isn't enough time in the world for me to do whatever it is I'm supposed to do. to be whoever it is I'm supposed to be. to blossom like a flower in early spring, growing in my creativity and my understanding my faith my love my joy my influence my conviction I want to grow into whatever sort of woman God wants me to be. I want to calm the chaos I want to invigorate the mundane. I want to never say any commonplace thing or settle for mediocre. I want to be set ablaze to have an insatiable thirst for more of beauty, light, love, my God.
I want more.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep, ...And miles to go before I sleep.
Psalm 63:4
I will praise you as long as I live,
and in your name I will lift up my hands.
Lifelight was a huge blessing.
I'm so humbled by all the work put into this thing.
This thing made free to the public,
allowing people to come from all around
for a weekend in South Dakota
to just praise God, together.
"Ancient Greek Tradition has Prometheus stealing fire from heaven, fire used to light the path toward civilization. You can see the sun this way, if you wish, as Prometheus riding his horse into space and time, a lantern in his hand, held out toward the planets, a bit of it spilt into the belly of a furnace, forging steel, the steel splintering off to spark and die away on a blacksmith shop floor, little smidgens of fading heaven, little cosmic mysteries, plucked from the sparkling hair of God.
In Egypt the sun was the eye of a god: the sun god Ra, in the evening, closed his eyes and opened them again in the morning, thus the light by which we work and see and have our being is the gaze of a god...
In the Hebrew tradition, which splintered off into the Christian tradition, which is how I was raised, light is a metaphor. God makes a cosmos out of nothingness, a molecular composition, of which He is not and never has been, as any thing is limiting, and God has no limits. In this way, He isn't, and yet is. The poetic imagery is rather beautiful, stating that all we see and feel and touch, the hardness of dense atoms, the softness of a breeze (atoms perhaps loose as if in play) is the breath of God. And into this being, into this existence, God first creates light. This light is not to be confused with the sun and moon and stars, as they are not created until later. He simply creates light, a non substance that is like a particle and like a wave, but perhaps neither, just some kind of traveling energy. A kind of magnetic wave.
Light, then, becomes a fitting metaphor for a nonbeing who is. God, if like light, travels at the speed of light, and because space and time are mingled with speed, the speed of light is the magic, exact number that allows a kind of escape from time. Scientists have played with atomic clocks, matched exactly, setting one in a plane to fly around the world, and another motionless, waiting for the return of its partner. When they reunite, the one that traveled rests milliseconds behind the one fixed. The faster you move, physicists have found, the less you experience time. And if you move at the speed of light, you will never age; you are outside of time; you are an eternal creature.
But before you strap on your running shoes, you should know scientists warn us that with speed, matter increases in density, so an attempt at the speed of light will have you imploded by the time you hit Wichita, your atoms as dense as bowling balls. And to make matters worse, your density increases on a curve; the faster you go, the greater the density, and though you can get close to the speed of light, matter and that magic speed can never meet; the faster you go, the steeper the trajectory on the graph. You and I, made from molecules, cannot travel at the speed of light and cannot escape time, at least not with a body.
Consider the complexity of light in light of the Hebrew metaphor: we don't see light; we see what it touches. It is more or less invisible, made from nothing, just purposed and focused energy, infinite in its power (it will never tire if fired into a vacuum, going on forever). How fitting, then, for God to create an existence, then a metaphor, as if to say, here is something entirely unlike you, outside of time, infinite in its power and thrust: here is something you can experience but cannot understand. Throughout the remainder of the Bible, then, God calls Himself light. The perfection of the Hebrew metaphor is eerie, especially considering Eratosthenes wouldn't play with sticks and shadows for several thousand years, discovering Ra was, in fact, never closing his eyes."
Oh Donald Miller... Even while reading Through Painted Deserts for the fourth time, you are a breath of fresh air.
