The Christmas Question

What if...God became a Man, born with the sheep in a barn, laid out on the straw under a star so bright astrologers followed it to find Him. Shepherds on a dark cold night saw a sight that frightened them nearly to death...the same shepherds who regularly cared for and bred sacrificial lambs for Jewish feasts. Called by angels to visit the Lamb of God newly born in a stable in Bethlehem. What if this Lamb was the lamb that ended all sacrifices?

What if...some of us have too small an idea of Who God is? We think the story of Christmas and the death and resurrection of Jesus is far-fetched and silly: God become man to therefore die as the ultimate redemption from our sin. What if our thinking is silly? We think we are so smart that God couldn't have a story that far surpasses our reach and grasp, yet is so simple even those with little reach or grasp can understand it. What if we have boxed God in to our own story so that He can't get out and be more vast than we can imagine? How pedestrian we must look to Him if His story is true and we discount it because it's crazy to think about.

What if...all the years of Jewish sacrifices pointed to this One offering? Year after year, Passover after Passover, the blood teaching that our wrongs must be righted, atoned for. Then this One Lamb...

What if...all our judgments of Christian churches and the imperfect preachers and congregations keep us from relationship with a God Who eschews the religious rites practiced on His behalf in deference to intimate one-on-one relationship with those Who choose to love Him? What if many...or most...religious types have missed out on the one thing most important to God: intimacy with His children. After all, the Lamb was to be called Emmanuel--God with us.

What if...you could live the life Jesus called you to live? "Life--and more abundantly (John 10)." What if knowing Him, Christ in us, causes judgment to fall away, love to burgeon in our hearts, wisdom to grow and power to overcome to be manifest? What if we didn't look at how others are living the Christian life to negate our need to follow, but, instead, walked it ourselves, knowing we live for Jesus...not ourselves, not for what others think. What if you could live the life you accuse others of falling short of? What if I could?

What if...the question isn't what we do with the Lamb of God, but what is He to do with us? If the hands that created the universe were pierced for us? What if the Word that spoke it all into being spoke "It is finished" on my behalf. If this story is true, God became flesh and lived among us (John 1), then the question of what we do with Him is embarrassingly juvenile. The fly on the back of an elephant asking what it does with the elephant (C. S. Lewis). God, by virtue of the fact that He is GOD, can tell whatever story He decides.

What if...people embraced the cradle in the barn and the cross on the hill as the culmination of God's redemptive plan? Not waving the hand in dismissal of such a noxious story. If it is, indeed, the story GOD is writing, wouldn't it be worth embracing? Because, if this is the greatest love story ever told, and we are invited into it, our hubris, judgment, theology or offenses could keep us from true intimacy with the God Who would call us "children."

Should We Be Afraid? An Open Letter to a Child of My Heart

"You will hear about wars and stories of wars that are coming, but don't be afraid. These things must happen before the end comes. Nations will fight against other nations; kingdoms will fight against other kingdoms. There will be times when there is no food for people to eat, and there will be earthquakes in different places. These things are like the first pains when something new is about to be born. Then people will arrest you, hand you over to be hurt, and kill you. They will hate you because you believe in Me. At that time, many will lose their faith, and they will turn against each other and hate each other. Many false prophets will come and cause many people to believe lies. There will be more and more evil in the world, so that most people will stop loving each other. But those people who keep their faith to the end will be saved. The good news about God's kingdom will be preached in all the world, to every nation. Then the end will come."  Jesus, Matthew 24

Your questions were good ones, sweet child of my heart. I read and reread your letter to me last night and again this morning. I understand your fear. We live in a crazy and confusing time when right and wrong are upside down, when evil might be lurking in a garage next door, when Christmas parties and concerts are only questionably safe, and warning others about eminent danger could look like racial profiling. We try to function in a catch-22--damned if we do, damned if we don't...or dead either way, even. I felt the cringing of your heart when you pulled your car back into the garage and hurried back into your house because the men in the car parked along the curb looked out of place and dangerous as they sat there looking out the windows at what was supposed to be your departure. Your baby unsafe, maybe. Pushed back into the confines of the four walls, not wanting to risk even the perception of danger. Conflict in your heart because you know good people whose beliefs lead them in a different direction than the San Bernardino terrorists who looked like they were okay...even at the baby shower the very people they killed had for them in the months before. Who do we trust? How do we know? And...your bigger question...where is God--is He good?

With all my heart, I don't want to give you a trite, hackneyed or easy answer. That doesn't satisfy me, either. However, I can only give you the responses that occur to  me today, because I don't have all the answers. A few days before the Passover on which Jesus would be arrested, His disciples asked Him to tell them about the end times--what would they be like? Jesus's response is found in Matthew 24. It's going to be bad. It's going to look a lot like it looks right now. Climate issues. Earthquakes. Famines. Hatred. Lawlessness. And people will hate more; love less. Natural affection will be hard to find--mothers for children, children for parents, friend for friend. Betrayals. Upside down and inside out. And some Christians will lose faith. Jesus predicted this. Because God sees history as a straight line. He isn't surprised by what has happened in any era of time. In fact, Jesus knew two thousand years ago what it will look like right before the end of the age we live in. That is comforting. Jesus wanted to make sure His disciples then and now know He is in control. And not to fear. Don't be afraid. It's seems to me to be an intentional imperative. We decide not to succumb to it. Decide to trust that if He had the prescience to warn us, to spell out the events of the end, that we can trust His epic plans as well as His plans for us as individuals.

I have a new prayer these days: Father, please keep us. Thank You that Your Word says that Your eyes are on us (2 Chronicles 16:9 The Lord searches all the earth for people who have given themselves completely to Him. He wants to make them strong). Thank You that You have promised to hide us under Your wings  (Psalm 91). Thank You that You are greater than our hearts and You know everything (1 John 3:20). And thank You that the plans you have for us are not to hurt us, but to give us a future and a hope (Jeremiah 29). This day is what I have. This hour to trust You. Give me great wisdom to navigate this chaotic world; give me great faith to believe You for anything; give me perfect love so that I adore You without the fear of what might be coming from Your hands into my life. Please keep me in these turbulent times that I might be a light that doesn't dim because the world is sinking into darkness. I want my head above the waves, each breath coming from You. Be strength to those Christians dying and imprisoned for knowing and loving You today. Be present in a way I can't fathom in my ease. Come quickly, Lord. Come quickly. Amen.

A lesser god would not have, in love, prepared those who love him for the end of things...nor would a lesser god even know what is in store. Lesser gods rule so much of the world right now--in particular, the god of self, sitting on so many separate thrones ruling in favor of anything that feeds the beast, which is never satisfied. But the One True God is actually in control. And, precious daughter in Jesus, we are here, right now, at this time in history, because He ordained it with purpose. That is how I claim joy. And we have the Spirit to speak to us individually. Giving us nudgings, making us wary when we should be and bold when we should be. Listen to Him. We can trust the God Who made the world, Who predestined and foreordained us to be His children before the foundations of the world (Ephesians 1) to move history and at the same time keep us until the very end. Jesus has the power of God, by which He has given us everything we need to live and serve God. We have these things because we know Him. Jesus called us by His glory and goodness. Through these He gave us very great and precious promises. With these gifts you can share in being like God, and the world will not ruin you with its evil desires (2 Peter 1:3-4).

Books have been written on why there is suffering in a world created by the God of love. We choose some of it. We live in a fallen world, yes. But those answers can't contain nor absorb some of the things that offend your heart. Men and women have lost their faith in God over just that question. The root of it is that: God isn't good. My response may seem too simplistic given the attention this accusation against God has received over the ages. From the beginning to the end of the Bible, the message to us is that our God wants to live among us. The garden; the exodus; the temple; Emmanuel, God with us, in the flesh--Jesus. I don't believe God looks onto this horrific mess of a world, tsk-tsking and blaming, wrath like smoke billowing from His holy nostrils...I believe He is as tired of it all as you are, baby. Yet, because He is love, He waits. Feeling what we feel...not feeling about us. I believe that I am His daughter...as you are. And, though I know your concept of a dad is at the very least a blurry mess, being God's child is a place of ultimate safety and understanding. You are not home here. I'm not, either. But we are never out of His sight either place. If suffering comes here, we know He understands it...knows how to bear it. The blood-soaked ground beneath the cross of Christ's death assures us that in our suffering we are not alone. He isn't callous to our need. And our deaths, like His, take us home to our Father. What we know as believers is that, unlike the current world view, our suffering has purpose, as His did. And we will never, ever be alone in it:
Can anything separate us from the love Christ has for us? Can troubles or problems or sufferings or hunger or nakedness or danger or violent death (sword)? As it is written in the Scriptures: "For you we are in danger of death all the time. People think we are worth no more than sheep to be killed (Psalm 44:22)."  But in all these things we have full victory through God Who showed His love for us. Yes, I am sure that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor ruling spirits, nothing now, nothing in the future, no powers, nothing above us, nor anything else in the whole world will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord!  (Romans 8)

Take a moment to listen to this song by clicking the link below.  We don't have to be slaves to fear.  I love you.

 

Proverbs 26:28: Benghazi Lying

A lying tongue hates those it hurts, and a flattering mouth works ruin. Proverbs 26:28

So now we know from Mrs. Clinton's own mouth to her daughter, Chelsea's ear, and to the ears of the Egyptian leadership, that: "We know that the attack in Libya had nothing to do with the film. It was a planned attack--not a protest." Then later, "Based on the information we saw today we believe the group that claimed responsibility for this was affiliated with al Qaeda." Benghazi was a planned attack that killed her good friend Chris Smith...er...what was that name again? She didn't remember his name and sent a memo calling him by the wrong name. We know for sure, while the fighting was still going on and later the next day, from her own emails, she knew. We now know for sure what many suspected, that when she and President Obama stood to greet the caskets holding four dead Americans, including the ambassador, they knew there was no video link to the murders of those dead heroes. They knew when Mrs. Clinton told the families as they sobbed over the flag-draped coffins of those they loved that there was no film to blame.

Mrs.Clinton knew when a California man was taken from his home in the middle of the night, arrested and incarcerated for the video's egregious part in the Benghazi tragedy that he wasn't responsible for the deaths of our American ambassador and those who died trying to save him. They knew, President Obama and Mrs. Clinton, when they made their own video that was shown throughout the Middle East blaming the uprising on a video that they were lying. When our President once again told the United Nations the attack was in response to outrage over a video, he knew as well as she that it wasn't the truth.

But that 's not the only thing we found out yesterday--those of us who watched the hearings. We also know from the former Secretary of State's mouth that Chris Smith...er...Stevens...her close, close friend, who didn't even have her email address or phone number, and whose 600 emails pleading for security in Benghazi went unanswered and apparently unread by Mrs. Clinton (because she didn't have a government server?), we know from her that...It was his own darn fault. "He knew he was wearing a short skirt," she said yesterday. Like a woman who is raped asks for it. Leaving himself open and vulnerable like that. Got what he asked for? 600 times he asked for help. How did he get what he asked for? So, really, when you look at it, he's responsible for the horrific things that happened to him. Have you seen the pictures from that night?

I live in California, so the papers I read fluffed over all of this. They lauded Mrs. Clinton for getting through that tough partisan grilling she got for no reason whatsoever. The lying...the blaming the ambassador for his own short-skirt-wearing death...meh. There are simply people who hate her. That's what this is all about.

If I were a personal friend of someone who treated me as she and Mr. Obama have treated us, I would never have anything to do with them again. Liars hate the ones to whom they lie. Assuming they are stupid, taking advantage of the vulnerability of friendship or trust. Make the one lied to believe in them and then their story when all along trust is being abused. If I were the mother of one of the men to whom she and the President lied as I wept over the casket, today I would be deeply angered and a bit ashamed that I believed anything she told me. I can't personally imagine electing to the highest position in our land a woman who can, with a straight face, not only lie to us, but go so far with it as to incarcerate a man she knows isn't guilty of the crime ascribed to him. To protect her own interests without care for others.Nor would I further trust the gut empathy of a woman, whose charge and creation the Libyan consulate was, when she has the gall to say Stevens died because he asked for it.

If we as a nation are okay with this, don't even bother to report the truth of it, don't see how egregious this cover up is--Meh...all politicians lie...Then God help us.

Unwashed Feet

And, listen, a woman of the city, who was a sinner, when she learned that He was reclining at table in the Pharisee's house, bought an alabaster flask of ointment, and standing behind Him at His feet she began to wet His feet with her tears and wiped them with the hair of her head and kissed His feet and anointed them with the ointment.  Luke 7

The Pharisee at whose home Jesus was reclining eating dinner was outraged that an unclean, unreligious woman of the city would slip into the party just to see Jesus, to bring an offering and to splurge it on His dusty feet. "How could you let this woman even touch  you?" was the question.

How bold of her to buy the alabaster jar in the first place with the express purpose of imposing on the meal of a religious great in order to bring her many sins to Jesus for cleansing. What made her think He'd want her foot washing tears or that He'd let her soothe His dried and tired feet with her oil? Was she merely taking a chance that Jesus would accept her? Was her deep desire for forgiveness the powerful energy of her brash crashing of the meal?

The woman was clearly known as a person weighed down with her many bad choices. Underserving, really, of compassion from the religious community. Church folks weren't supposed to let her touch them lest her ignominy rub off on them. Yet, she rushed past the servants and into the presence of Jesus and was so taken aback in the moment that when she comes up behind Him while He is lying at dinner, all she can do is burst into tears at seeing Him there. Sobbing, bent over in her grief at bringing her sinfulness into such a Presence, Jesus felt the warmth of her tears on His feet. Embarrassed, maybe, at having cried all over the Prophet, she takes down her hair, quickly bends down, and wipes the tears from His feet. All the while the other dinner guests are appalled at her histrionics. Way over the top! And Jesus is simply accepting all of this with His usual aplomb. Letting her not only touch Him, but also letting her kiss His feet and rub them with her fragrant gift.

"What's going on here!" The Pharisee, overwrought with outrage. The loose woman invading the party, bringing her essence into their holiness.

"Who loves more, Simon?" began Jesus to His host, "a person whose owes ten dollars and has his debt released or the person who owes ten million and is forgiven?"

"I suppose, the one who has the bigger debt," answered Simon, sensing a trap, I think.

"The woman came in here owing a great debt. You gave me nothing with which to clean my feet, but her tears have washed them and her oil anointed them."

She is quieted because they are talking about her. The sobbing subsided. Her heart beating furiously in her chest. Will they take me by my arms and throw me out?

"Her sins, which are many, are forgiven." Jesus declaring her to be as clean as the feet she has just washed. "She loved Me enough to dare trespass into religious territory in order to be near Me."

The woman is holding her breath, with her head down, clutching the empty alabaster jar to her heart. Then she hears it: "Woman, your sins are forgiven. Your faith has saved you. Go in peace."

To Simon, Jesus said: "The one who is forgiven much loves much."

It's humbling to have your feet washed. When my husband's father came to live near us in California in 2010, I noticed his toenails hadn't been clipped in a while and he had sores on his legs. At ninety-five, he'd never had a pedicure. So, he didn't know how to react when I filled a pan with water and asked him to put his feet in. "No, Kay," Papa said, "I won't let you wash my feet. They're too ugly." He was close to tears that first time to think I'd do such a lowly thing as clip his toenails. I know he finally understood that I loved him and his feet, and the monthly pedicures became a staple of our relationship.

I thought about that day when I read Luke 7 this morning. The argument wasn't that Jesus felt awkward about the woman washing His feet. He didn't say to her, "Oh, woman, don't do that. It makes me feel too humbled." The adoration with which her tears fell and her hands anointed with oil was accepted. They both knew Who He is. Jesus accepted her love and praise because in that she was forgiven. At His feet, crying her heart out, His very presence in such sharp contrast to her ill-used life. Jesus let her pour that out. Unembarrassed by the sobbing contrition because that saved her. It wasn't that He felt she owed Him the costly anointing. It was that in breaking the flask in adoration she honored the One Who she'd possibly seen heal the sick, release those controlled by demons, feed the multitudes and raise from the dead. And something told her this Jesus would know how much she needed Him and He could set her free, too.

The woman stood up, squared her shoulders and walked out of Simon's house a brand new woman. The weight of her guilt now gone. Perhaps never forgiven by those she'd hurt, but her many sins now past so that she didn't carry them into the rest of her life. Shame lifted so that she could ever afterward make decisions based upon her cleansing instead of upon her ignominy. Driven by the great strength Jesus's forgiveness gave her. She loved Him so much! Unchained she had a whole new reason to live free of condemnation! The dampness of her tears and the fragrance of her oil was left on the floor of Simon's house and lingered on the feet of Jesus. The men at dinner argued about whether Jesus was capable of forgiving sin. Who did He think He was? They completely missed the point. But she knew. And because she understood what the religious people couldn't grasp, her life was changed. Without a word from her. Heart to heart. Jesus knew. He knows me as well. And you.

 

Matthew 11: Happy Oxen

"Come to me all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give your rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light."  Verses 28-30

I've been reading Andrew Murray for my daily devotionals lately. These verses came up Friday and I couldn't stop thinking about what it means to be yoked to Jesus. Oxen are yoked together, side by side, to pull a plow, to make the work easier for the farmer and get twice as much done as with only one ox. Jesus is telling me to get yoked up with Him. What does that even mean?

If I decide to heed the call to join Jesus, I will go where He goes. Where He takes me. Since we will be walking the same pathway, we will have a lot of time together. We'll talk. I'll watch what He does along the way, learning about Him--what makes Him tick. Jesus wants us to know Him even in the daily drudge of life. The pounding of the dirt, the pulling of the load, the sweating of the labor. It's there we show who we truly are, oppressed by the unrelenting sun, tired almost beyond bearing, prone to complain, wondering if we've lost our way. But when Jesus is the One willingly carrying the burden of the task, pulling more than His fair share, leading the way down each furrow and over each hill, I am tasked with merely going with Him in the sowing and the planting. My joy is to watch in wonder as the heaviness of all I carried alone is lightened because Jesus assured me yoking with Him makes life easier.

If I decide to heed the call to join Jesus, I will not be venturing out on my own. He will pull me back to the path we are on together. At the very least, I won't be adding burden on burden in my ignorance of the fields ahead. Going astray and working in fields that will bear absolutely no fruit and leave me dehydrated and exhausted...and lost. Without Jesus, I will be working fields that are fallow, rocky and unfertile. Oh, I might happen upon arable land, but it's simply a case of wandering. Yoked to Jesus, I work where He works, am led where He goes, gently pulled along the path my partner plows. The bonus of this is, Jesus knows where we're going next.

If I decide to heed the call to join Jesus, I will learn to follow. To work at His pace. I'm sure at first I will balk at having to plow the rows of a new field, at not knowing the specifics of the next field where I will find myself. Having to trust that Jesus will lead us. I might not like the looks of what is coming, the new land Jesus says is our next place. I'm sure I'll stop us to stomp around and snort. Then Jesus will remind me that I chose the yoke...and for very good reasons. If I want, I can leave. But what then? I'm left standing alone now, in a pasture by myself, and I have no idea which way to go. He is not there for me to talk to every second of my day, to learn from as we churn the ground together. I would be free to go in any direction without any compass to tell me north, south, east or west. To some, this freedom to just take up life and go wherever seems best, is priceless. Doing it your way...blazing new trails. The yoking with Jesus is even more exhilarating than that, because there is still the same thrill of "I wonder what's next" without the dread of failure. My Partner created the very ground we plow. Teaches me and enjoys me along the route. And, honestly, I've grown accustomed to--actually delighted in--the fact that life's been so much easier since I began working alongside Jesus.

If I decide to heed the call to join Jesus, I will rest. There is so much involved in living life my way that makes me just plain tired. I'm really good at taking on the tasks of others, too. Pulling them along with any extra energy I have. If I'm trying to do life all by myself, it's overwhelming. I barely have the answers for my own life, much less the extra heft of trying to figure it out for someone else. Jesus gives me rest from that burden. Because? Because the invitation for being yoked to Him is for everyone. "Come to Me ALL who are overwhelmed and bearing too much." Any extra oxen who need support and a map can join us.

There is nothing keeping me from answering the call--accepting the invitation. I have found that it's not as confining as it sounds to those who don't want God telling them what to do. It's freeing in a way that a child holding the hand of her mother at the mall is freeing. No getting lost. Crying in the middle of the store wondering where she is. No strangers leading her away to unsafe territory. It's freeing the way marriage is. One soul testing and teaching the other, filtering the good from the bad, showing us who we really are, loving us anyway. Braided cords making love stronger. Only Jesus can offer true safety and security this way, though. Yoked together with The Way (John 14) I will not be lost again.
 

I Let My Guest Clean My House

In Him, also, when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and believed in Him, were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, Who is the guarantee of our inheritance until we acquire possession of it, to the praise of His glorious name.  Ephesians 1:13-14

I house the Holy Spirit. Christ in me. And I'm thinking this morning about how much room I allow there for Him to actually build a structure that will not fail. I have squeezed the Spirit into some very small corners and told Him to sit there and be quiet. Not knowingly. I wouldn't think to speak to Him that way. But that's what I've done, anyway. In  my conversation with my Father this morning I was struck by the fact that I don't even remember life without His Presence in me. I was six when I asked Jesus into my heart...and I meant it! With all my heart! And I still remember the excitement that beat in my little chest. But I didn't do much big girl sinning before that time. So, I don't recall life without the Spirit, but I can talk all day about "grieving" Him. Of hearing the Spirit sob for me.

The women in my Bible study group are studying the book of John. We're in John 16 where Jesus promises to send the Spirit. And one of the younger women asked: "How do we know we have Him living in us?"

Good question. That's what being saved means. That Christ comes by the Holy Spirit to live within us. If we have given our lives over to Christ, asked Him to come into our hearts, He does. It's what changes us. If it doesn't change us, we aren't His. If we are still dead in our sins, walking down the same old path with the same old heart, we missed the connection somehow. "I don't always feel different," she went on to say. "I just wonder if He's living in me some days."

Isn't she honest? I love that about her. Because we all have those days...or, for me, years.

So I took us all to Romans 8. And here is where I land again this morning in thinking of how God's amazing grace goes on and on and on and on. Here is what God, the Spirit, is doing while we are weak and confused: The Spirit helps us with our weaknesses. We do not know how to pray as we should. But the Spirit Himself speaks to God for us, even begs God for us with deep feelings that words cannot explain. God can see what's in people's hearts. And He knows what is in the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit speaks to God for His people in the way God wants. The picture of the Spirit within me begging God to remember I'm His child, covered by the blood of Jesus, weak in my flesh, and though, undeserving of mercy, still a kid my Father, loves makes this computer screen hard to see because of the wash of tears that are spilling onto my keypad. Really? The Spirit of God in me, that I've often given such little space to breathe in the home that is my tent, sobs and begs God on my behalf. And I know that in the quiet moments of my greatest need I've heard Him there when I thought my heart would burst and my life would shred into a thousand pieces. And I know it's because of His countless pleadings that I was walked back up out of a horrible pit and set on solid ground with a new song in my heart.

I'm more likely these days to open up the doors and windows of this tent and air it out, letting in the sunshine, unafraid that something would be revealed to my heart-guest that I'd have to deal with. Not so worried about the roaches that will scatter in the brightness only to reemerge when I grow dim. My prayer is that the Spirit of God have a huge home in me, free to wander, to look in the closets and purge what's old and worn, even to look under the sink at the mess I've made there. I want Him to roam the rooms and stretch out on the couch...you know, enjoy the place! This tent will never be perfect. I know that. And for any who know me, it is clear I am a work in progress. But it is progress I'm after. Like a belly full of oatmeal on a cold morning, the Spirit of God fills my soul with His Presence. and I'm more content to allow Him to dwell there in joy.

Ephesians 1:5-6 - "I Love You Back!"

In love, He predestined us for adoption as sons and daughters through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of His will, to the praise of His glorious grace, with which He blessed us in the Beloved.

In more text messages than I can count, my son, Will, always gets the last word. I will say, "I love you!" and he will say, "I love you more" or "I love you back." Usually emoticons are involved. I often allow this last word because it always makes my heart so full. My son loves me back. I remember the day I first held him in my arms. Will didn't know me then. He'd heard my voice from the safety of my womb. There was the day when we were swimming in a neighbor's pool and Vanessa, his sister, arose from beneath the surface, grabbed hold of the floater upon which I was lying, stomach bulging with near-term Will, and yelled into my belly button, "Flower!" She was teaching him words. She did that often. I'm sure Will knew her voice, too. But he didn't know we loved him, yet. But, of course, we did. So much so that we made all kinds of plans for his arrival. And on that day, I was flooded with such joy and overwhelmed with such hope. The little one I'd felt rolling around within me was there in my arms, soft and round. My beloved son.

All these years later, Will reciprocates my love. Gives it back to me. Emoticons and all. So do my daughters. In ways that cause me to stand a little taller. All of them tell us how happy they are to be our kids. How thankful they are for all we taught them. We are "the best parents ever." But we know we are terribly flawed. Have made huge mistakes. Wish we'd done some things so differently. The thing, with God's help, we did do was love them all to pieces.

So, here's what I can't imagine: giving Will up for the sake of others. This son of my heart. And if I had done that, I would expect the others to acknowledge the sacrifice with a love and loyalty that reciprocates the act. God gave us His Beloved Son that way. "In love..." Jesus came as God Incarnate in order to demonstrate that love. "God showed His love for us this way: while we were still sinners, Christ died for us." (Romans 5:8). God wasn't interested in waiting on us to clean up our acts. We can't, actually. Our God knows our condition. We all fall short of what even those of us who don't know God should reasonably expect of ourselves. We make mistakes. Hurt each other. And all the blood of bulls and goats, all the sacrifices we make in order to right ourselves in an upside down world, aren't enough. Jesus said, "Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but, if it dies, it bears much fruit (John 12)." The grain seeds itself and makes others like it. From the foundations of the world, God knew He'd do this. Save us Himself. Seed Himself into the soil of our sin. Bury His Beloved in the cave of Pharisee. Raise Himself up out of the anointed darkness to free the Spirit to burrow into our carnality and produce the unexpected, undeserved and unprecedented grace of adoption as children. Born of the Grain Who was willing to plant Himself into the earth of a planet deemed to be the theater of God's grace since before the before.

When I read the phrase "to the praise of His glorious grace" just now, I was struck by what I've heard said before by those who don't believe. "God is such an egomaniac." Makes me cringe. Given what I understand this verse to mean, God is quite the opposite. God gave His Beloved so that, yes, we would praise Him for His glorious grace! Reciprocate the over-the-top sacrifice of life for life! Acknowledge that we understand the plan and what it cost! And be overwhelmed at the grace of a God Who "loved us first" (1 John 4:19). It's why we love Him. Like my beloved son loves me, because I first loved him. I didn't command my children to love me! They love me back! When they moved in my womb, when they cooed in my arms, when I dreamed of their lives, I loved them, and they didn't even know it! That's how God first loved us. Pre-birth, pre-world, before I could possibly understand it. But now? Now I do get it, imperfectly, I'm sure. And I desperately want to reciprocate the love to the praise of His glorious grace, with which He blessed me in the Beloved!

 

PSALM 150 - Our Last Breath: ISIS

Let everything that breathes praise the Lord! Hallelujah!  (Verse 60

This is my last post in Psalm Calm. The end of a journey through the real life songs people sang about their God and to Him. It is fitting that the book ends with the imperative for every breathing thing to praise the One Who is and was and is to come.

Also fitting for me today was to meditate on the news of the twenty-one Egyptian Christians who were slaughtered over the weekend by ISIS in Libya. Marched to their deaths wearing orange jumpsuits as they walked single file along the edge of some undisclosed body of water, leaving their footprints in the soggy sand, they were lined up and told to kneel. Several cried out, "Oh, God!" or "Oh, Jesus!" The last words they would have breath to utter before they were thrown forward, facedown into the sand where Islamists sawed off their heads. I didn't watch the YouTube video, but those who did said the lips of most of the men were moving as they knelt. Praying. What were they thinking in those last few moments of life?

I put myself there for a few minutes. Horrified by what was surely coming. Knowing that my life was over with the thrust of a knife into my neck. Dreading the pain; wondering how quickly I would die. What next? Understanding that in the seconds I had left I could breathe the name of the One I would see with my own eyes in the ensuing seconds. I could cry out to Him or I could incline my heart already in that direction and find, perhaps like Stephen did when he became the first martyr for our faith, that Jesus was already standing there awaiting my arrival. Holding a white robe. "...I saw under the altar the people slaughtered for God's word and the testimony they had. They cried out with a loud voice, 'Lord, the One Who is holy and true, how long until you judge and avenge our blood from those who live on the earth?' So a white robe was given to each of them, and they were told to rest a little while longer..." Revelation 6

No virgins. Heaven isn't about revenge or the sexual conquest or hearty usury of women. It's about justice, peace, righteousness and love. The more honor given to those whose lives were demanded in bloody death for the sake of Christ--as Christ's was given for us. And their blood is now mixed with His in suffering. The martyrs seem to have a say in heaven. "Avenge us, God!" The promise is, of course, that God will. All the armies of the world can't mount an attack that will stop the flow of justice when it "rolls down like water, and righteousness, like an unfailing stream (Amos 5)."

While we have the breath to do so, it is our privilege to use it to proclaim the mercy and love of our God. He is not a god who tells us to strike with jihad. Instead He says, "Everyone who calls upon the name of the Lord shall be saved! (Acts 2:21)" Over and over again in both the new and the old testaments of the Bible, God willingly saves and forgives those who call out to Him. Even the worst of us...even the best. And however it is or wherever it is we find ourselves taking that last breath here on Earth, may we be assured that by the grace of God and the sacrificial death of Jesus, that we will take our next breath in heaven. May those who have been slaughtered for their faith over the weekend, leaving their bodies behind, be dancing with abandon with all who have gone before them! No more tears. No more pain. And their joy reflected in the face of Christ!

PSALM 150 - Shall We Dance?

Praise Him with trumpet sound; praise Him with lute and harp! Praise Him with tambourine and dance! Praise Him with strings and pipe! Praise Him with sounding cymbals! Praise Him with loud crashing cymbals!  (Verses 3-5)

Get loud! Dance around! Beat the drums, play the sax, clang the cymbals! Praise Him with everything that is in you! Join the noisy worship of heaven. Lift your hands. Sing a new song at the top of your lungs. It's appropriate to the occasion. We have been redeemed by the One True God! Brought into His family as adored and precious children. Set free from sin and death, empowered to live in a confusing, upside down universe. You are no longer judged by God but now you are saved from eternal punishment. Set free from the prison that bound you as surely as if you'd been released from Leavenworth. Sprung because Jesus took your place on the gallows. Rejoice! Don't sit quietly in your pew when the music starts. We have much to dance about.

Recently during praise and worship, I have felt drawn up into heaven where I see my mother and several of my friends worshipping in a broad space before God's throne. They aren't still, but running in circles together, dancing wildly, extolling from a place in their souls that makes them almost frantic with joy. They sing with their mouths open wide as emerald lights flicker in the bright whiteness of His Presence. The music is very, very loud. Pounding the foundations of heaven, lifting my mother and friends from the pavement on which they stand. I want to join them there. So I do. To the degree that church protocol will allow me to wander from Earth to Heaven or my body can facilitate such romping in the privacy of my home. But I want to empty myself like they are doing. Exhaust myself before the throne. Sometimes I am a bit shaky after worship. Sad to shut it off. Wanting more and more to join my heart with His.

If we could strip ourselves of our bodies in the experience of worship, what would we do? Unencumbered by the restraints of flesh, only presenting our pure devotion from soul and spirit, I believe we would be LOUD! Revved up by the heavenly orchestra, electrified in the presence of God, thankful beyond all imagination for our place in His kingdom, do you think we'll stand still? I think heaven is amped up. There are flashes of lightning and peals of thunder, the ever shouting voices of angels and elders crying, "Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty!" And here on Earth, music brings us into the Presence like nothing else. Drums for the pulsing throb of heaven's atmosphere, cymbals for the crashing thunder and lightning, stringed instruments to soften the experience as the angels do when they sing. God wants us to be as carefree and unrestrained as King David was when he brought the ark back to Jerusalem (2 Samuel 6). Returned the Presence of God back to the Jewish people. Stripped down to his linen ephod, David danced "with all his might" while his men shouted and played their trumpets. He was so out of control that his wife, Saul's daughter, was disgusted by the wild display. So, maybe some will be uncomfortable with our abandon, but that doesn't mean God isn't ordaining and enjoying it. It's no little thing to be saved. To walk out of prison free. To be included in the family of God because Jesus is our Lamb! We should get a major rush from the knowledge, remembering it day after day and never tiring of its magnificence!

So let it out today! A massive flow of unadulterated worship. Turn the praise songs up! Dance around the room. We are freed from the enemy and will never, never, no more forever (Exodus 14) be locked in the cells of his making! We are loved beyond all reason. Protected even from our own stupidity. Great mercy covers our lives. And we will live forever in the noisy reverence of Heaven!
 

PSALM 150 - The Role of a Lifetime

Praise Him for His strength; praise Him for His greatness!  (Verse 2)

I can do all things through Christ because He gives me strength.  Philippians 4:13

The Oscars are coming up. A time when the entertainment industry honors those whose performances in movies were great. Number one. Top of the top. Amazing job. Standing ovations. Applause. For...being someone else. We laughed, we cried...we'll never forget. Well, maybe, a little. Next year the hype will be about another movie star.

So how do we calculate greatness. Might. Strength. There are awards for football, basketball, racing, prize fighting. Athletic, muscled men and women who are mightier than the rest, as we count might. In the scheme of things, most of the rest of us are left out of the competition. Only the elite receive the bows of homage; the wreaths of victory. To be great, we must be ahead of the pack, while most of us are trying just to keep up.

I'd like to give a prize today. To the ones no one sees. The ones who are bravely taking care of their children's children because mom and dad are MIA. To Saeed Abidini and the other hundreds of Christians who languish in prisons because they love Jesus. I'd like to walk into their cells and say, "We are proud of your courage, your strength, your steadfast faith in light of the fact that you are tortured, sleep and food deprived, and cold." Then I would hand them the Oscar for endurance and faith! I'd like to award those who have languished in illness with their heads high and their faith in Christ in tact. And to those who held the hand of a loved one to the last breath then committed themselves to living in faith without the warmth of the one they loved so much. Trusting that soul to Jesus while they trust their todays to Him, also. Loss. Handling it as yourself...not an award for pretending to be someone else--a life you can leave when the cameras are off. There should be acknowledgement for powering through the very real difficulties that are our dramas.

It's why the knowledge that we can do all things through Christ Who gives us strength is so vital. We have to play out what is our lives. It's not fantasy. It's the nitty gritty of our reality. I don't know how people live without the Holy Spirit. I don't. Christ in me is the engine that propels me toward every goal. Keeps me in every circumstance. My Guide. My Source. My Inspiration. Christ in me is the very energy of my spirit that keeps me from idling or falling apart. When I can't play the role given to me another minute, it is He Who lives in me Who revs the engine and moves me forward. Gives me inspiration for the part. Cues me where to go next. Who to be. What to say. Millions of fans don't watch us bigger than life onscreen taking each step. Most people will never even know we exist. But the drama that is our lives is important just the same. It is the role of a lifetime. And it has its reward.

"I have fought the good fight. I have finished the race. I have kept the faith. Now, a crown is being held for me--a crown for being right with God. The Lord, the Judge Who judges rightly, will give the crown to me on that day--not only to me but to all those who have waited with love for Him to come again."  Paul.  2 Timothy 4:8

PSALM 150 - Somewhere in the Crowd is You

Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord in His sanctuary; praise Him in His mighty heavens! (Verse 1)

Last night was the album release concert for Vanessa's newest CD. It was so great to see friends I haven't been with in years, in some cases. I'm never done with hearing Vanessa sing and marveling in the gifts God has given her. I was thankful to be in the mix when she praised her God in song. Couldn't help but raise my hands and worship as she sang, "I am forgiven, once and for all. I am not doomed to stay down when I fall." I mouthed the words I've come to love from hearing the song many times at home. "He calls me Precious, He calls me Precious Little Girl," she sang, and somehow in lyrics and music I heard Jesus say, "You are my Beloved." And in the worship experience, heaven must stretch its edges to draw us like a magnet into God's sanctuary. The dividing line thinner as the strains of worship reach the ears of God. I hear my daughter. So does He. And He hears us as we join in, for we are only catching a far off whiff of glory. Our worship reflecting what is happening in His sanctuary; not the other way round. Worship brings us into a holy unity with heavenly choirs whose sole reason for being is to extol the God of All.

My standing in the crowd at the concert last night watching my daughter praise our God reminded me this morning of how God, to a much, much greater extent, joys in standing in the midst of our praise and bathing in its purity, however imperfect or amazing. It's a family thing. A recognition of the fact that our Father is better than any other father! He forgives us, restores us, loves us with almost unbearable sweetness, guides us, defends us, provides for us and grows us up to be like Him. Praise causes us to look at Him. To put aside whatever rubble life has thrown our way and to enjoy God's presence. It's a sharing of mutual affection. Reciprocating our Father's love. God comes near to hear us shout with the angels that He is "Holy, holy, holy!" There is no one like our Father. That's what holy means--separate, set apart. One of a kind. Tears welled up in my eyes knowing my daughter's heart is given over to Christ. How much more does the love of God swell in His heart when He hears the songs of our hearts, smells the sweet aroma of our sacrifices of praise? Above the noisy thundering of heaven's electric atmosphere, we have an audience Whose ear is attuned to the songs of our hearts. It's all one to Him, the praise there and the praise here.

The stars are constantly humming in harmonic praise. The Kepler space telescope proved Job's observation in Job 38 that "the morning stars sang together." The group of massive red stars sing in concert. God's mighty heavens literally play for Him. And God doesn't just stand apart from the creation He called good, but is in its midst, worthy of our prostrate adoration; worthy of the dance; worthy of the song; worthy of a life lived in praise to His glory. In the sanctuaries of our churches or in the sanctity of our quiet places, praise becomes us (Psalm 147:1). It's appropriate, sweet. It's like wearing a dress that fits perfectly and shows off our best features--becoming. That's how praise looks on us. Like we were made to wear it. The first fruits of our eventual white linen clothing reserved for us in heaven when we'll sit at the wedding supper of the Lamb and rejoice at the table of our Father.

PSALM 149 - Musings on Martin Luther King Day

To execute vengeance on the nations and punishments on the peoples, to bind their kings with chains and their nobles with fetters of iron, to execute on them the judgment written! This is honor for all His godly ones. Praise the Lord!  (Verses 7-9)

The battle is always about the heart. Wars are fought because the heart of some man or woman has been given over to the destruction of other peoples or nations. Hitler, Stalin, Nero...something went terribly wrong. Pol Pot and the killing fields, and, yes, the Crusades. A demonic tweaking of  the mind that made a person or group of people decide everyone has to agree with them or die. The power of being right and gaining absolute control overwhelming any sense of compassion for those who disagree or don't fit the mold. Hearts that can kill their progeny and call it expedience. Hearts that can judge others by their own biases. We've got to fix the heart. And war against the proper powers. Unseen and violent, seeking destruction. Since the beginning. Offering up the pride of being godlike, making us buy into our own demise. Our real enemy: Satan.

The battlefields are real enough. Worldwide. Beheadings in the name of righteousness. Missile attacks, aggressor against aggressor. Mass executions in retribution for a drug deal gone wrong. Families wiped out by a spurned husband or wife. Our own infanticide pervading our country in the name of expedience and quality of life. And we all feel good about our particular war. We have the right to it. And in this way we are able to make wrong right. Celebrate it, in fact. Someone somewhere was whooping and hollering when the twin towers went down in flames and smoke as somebody's mother jumped out a window and landed on the pavement and somebody's father choked to death in an effort to save those trapped. Some several million people breathed a sigh of relief last year when a baby was taken, alive and well, and thrown into the garbage heap behind the doctor's office. What is wrong with us?

No tyrant thinks of himself as tyrannical. There is a certain altruism about making others do what you want. We seem to have infinite capacity, even the best of us, to create for ourselves a scenario that justifies our actions. There is some good and some evil in all of us. The question is, which will win? Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., put it this way: "There is some good in the worst of us; some evil in the best of us. When we discover this, we are less prone to hate our enemies." Evil always justifies itself.

Dr. King went on to say, "Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate. Only love can do that." Agape love. Which we can't manufacture alone. God is love. And unless we are saturated in it, driven by it, changed by it, committed to it, we are bait for the enemy of our souls, who desires to turn us sour and use us for his purposes.

This love that armors us for battle (Ephesians 5) isn't a weapon of mass destruction, but of daily victories that come about by attacking the real enemy circumstance by circumstance. The sword of the spirit taking down principalities and powers (2 Corinthians 10) in order to destroy "strongholds and arguments" of the enemy. Because all evil starts in the heart and distills into the mind. The way we think is how we act. And if the love of God hasn't affected our minds, changed our hearts, and made us want to war for the same deliverance for others, we will fall in battle, too. We might not be in Iraq fighting ISIS, but we are at war just the same. Our battlefields are closer to home. Most of the time, the fighting is one on one. We don't win with great arguments and cutting language. We win, as Dr. King did, with the desire to love our enemies. By bringing light into darkness. Love where there is hate. Aiming right for the heart. Devastating it with the retribution of forgiveness and love.

Satan finally loses. I know the end of the book. But in the meantime, he will take hostages and execute the godly. This is war. And some, like Martin Luther King, Jr., will physically fall in the battle. This world isn't where we belong forever. But every single day we have the opportunity to bring light onto the battlefield, exposing the dark, making it flee. Every day we have the choice to love instead of hate, to forgive instead of hold a grudge. With the sword of the Spirit (God's Word) and the shield of faith, we are ready for battle, knowing that Love ultimately triumphs over evil. The cross provided our victory; the resurrection guaranteed our safe travel home. Let's have the courage to combat our enemies in the same spirit Dr. King did in the successful war he was called to wage against the prejudice and hate that divided this nation. Let us be willing, as he was, and the Savior before him, to "lay down our lives for our friends (John 15)."

"Now there is a final reason why I think Jesus says, 'Love your enemies.'" It is this: that love has within it a redemptive power. And there is a power there that eventually transforms individuals. Just keep being friendly to that person. Just keep loving them, and they can't stand it too long...and by the power of your love they will break down under the load. That's love, you see. It's redemptive, and this is why Jesus says love. There's something about love that builds up and is creative. There's something about hate that tears down and is destructive. So love your enemies." Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

PSALM 149 - Sword Play

Let the high praises of God be in their throats and two-edged sword in their hands.
(Verse 6)

For the Word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and spirit, of joints and marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.  Hebrews 4

Malchus was a servant of the high priest, sworn to the Jewish government that existed within the Roman Empire as a separate judicial entity. On the Passover night when Jesus was arrested, he was part of the guard sent to apprehend Him and take him before the Jewish court. Jesus was in a garden in the Kidron Valley where He was anguishing in prayer as His disciples slept nearby, unaware of the great suffering that was coming to Jesus. Judas Iscariot led the guards to the place of prayer, kissing Jesus on the cheek to signify which One the temple police were to arrest. Jesus asked, "Whom do you seek?"

"Jesus of Nazareth."

"I AM He." And the soldiers fell down, weak-kneed and bewildered. The name of Jesus already more powerful than the enemy. He needed nothing more than the words from His mouth.

Peter woke up to what was going on about then. Hadn't he just promised to fight for...even die for...his Messiah? He couldn't fathom what was taking place. They couldn't arrest Jesus. He was going to be king. As the guards rushed on Him, Peter drew his sword. I meant what I said! Malchus was there. His hands holding the arms of Jesus behind His back. Pushing Messiah roughly forward. "No!" cried Peter, and sliced off the man's right ear.

Jesus saw. The blood gushing. Malchus grabbing his head and falling in pain to the ground. "Peter, put away the sword. I have to drink the cup my Father gave Me." And Peter, once again, didn't understand. It seemed to him he always got it wrong. "Put your sword back in its place, Peter," said Jesus. "All who take the sword will die by the sword. Do you think that I couldn't appeal to my Father and He will at once send me more than seventy-two thousand angels?" It was then Jesus stooped down, picked up the blood soaked ear and put it back, whole and well, onto the head of Malchus.

The revelation of the new covenant that would in the next twenty-four hours be established by the crucifixion was foreshadowed by the healing of one of the very men who would lead Jesus to the cross. The Word become flesh, living among us, showing us that He is the sword, His words piercing deeply into our marrow. Sharp. Sharper than the soldier's blade that cuts only into our flesh. No longer the need to bleed out sheep and calves. No longer the need to war against the enemy with mere weapons made of steel. The Word of God took the ear of His enemy and healed him. Did Malchus lie there in a heap while the others led Jesus away? Did he thank Jesus? Did he break ranks? We don't know. And that isn't the point. How people react to the Word. The point is that it is powerful to restore what is lost, to seep deep down into our bones and change us from the inside out. Mercy triumphing over judgment as the weapons of our warfare are no longer sword and rife. For though we walk in the flesh, we are not waging war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds (2 Corinthians 10).

With such power indwelling us, the believers in Christ, we don't have to resort to condemnation or judgment. We don't have to slice our opponent in half or seek some earthly vengeance. We are to walk about the earth while we are here with praise on our lips and the Word of God in our hearts. Ready to do battle with the true enemy of our souls and the souls of all who walk the planet with us. Satan has been conquered. Destroyed at the cross. We know this. We live as prisoners set free from the bondage that fetters those without Jesus. We must use the sword in thankful mercy toward those who need our same rescue! The condemned don't need more condemnation, they need deliverance, just like we did. We march into war to save them singing hallelujahs to the One Who conquered Satan, stripping him of all his authority. To the degree we have sharpened the sword, have taken the Word into our own spirits and hearts, to that degree we are fierce warriors for our God. We are in a battle, for sure. And we need to suit up.


 

PSALM 149 - God Singing at the Top of His Lungs!

For Yahweh takes pleasure in His people. He adorns the humble with salvation. Let the godly celebrate in triumphal glory; let them shout for joy on their beds.  (Verses 4-5)

"Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom." Jesus

Vanessa just received her newest CD in the mail this week. The culmination of years of writing and producing, praying and working, just to hold it in her hands and offer it to others. It's beautiful. The lyrics are poetry, the themes important and borne from experience: God is faithful and always on time, we are His Beloved, precious children, disappointment can't kill our hope. For others, the album shows just how talented Vanessa is, how gifted and godly. To Bill and me, it's just pure pleasure to hear our little VJ sing to our God. We've heard her since she could walk singing songs she made up or songs she heard in church or on the radio. Nuancing the melodies even then to make them her own. I close my eyes when she sings and relish her giftings and her choice to use them for her Father. I marvel that she is ours. That she is His. Absolutely overwhelmed with joy when her band brings her visions to life.

Will has been put in a tough situation lately. One in which he's had to wait on God and trust. That doesn't come easy for any of us, and Will is still young. Waiting isn't his M.O. (or mine). However, in this process, I have swelled with pride on several occasions. At first impatient and out of sorts, he chose to unload his frustration. Then one day in church he had a revelation that brought tears to his eyes and mine. "All I have really belongs to Him, anyway, Mom. I know I should have realized that sooner, probably, but I get it now." In his heart, Will got it. Knew his Father would be faithful and would do what is best at the proper time. My eyes still tear up when I think about that. So pleased with Will and his choices.

Heather has her own needs right now. Lots going on in her life. Two busy boys. Her own dog walking and dog treat business to oversee. Her time is limited and, given the constraints on her life, she would be justified in saying no to less important demands. She doesn't. That's what is so amazing about her. She goes out of her way to find places for people to live, to help them find a job, to offer transportation, to make dinner for friends or to care for other people's kids when they need help. She reaches out to hurting people to tell them about Jesus. Unashamed of her faith and unabashed in sharing it. Her desire to reach out makes me so proud of her. Her heart always toward Him. I know her day-to-day doesn't seem that important, but her willing, faithful heart challenges mine even now.

A man told me last night how blessed I am. Wondered at the outpouring of God on my life, especially when it comes to my family. I had to agree. We have our ups and downs like any other family, but my children are a constant source of joy and pleasure for Bill and me. We enjoy even the down times because they make us grow up together. Should it surprise us, then, that God is pleased inside His family? Loves being with His children even in the valleys? He triumphs with us in our victories and wanders with us through our mazes. Because our Father loves His kids, and the struggles we go through with Him binds us to our God.

Let that soak in today. I am. It's my Father's great pleasure to give me all that Jesus died that I should receive. The kingdom now, here, and later, there. It makes Him happy to bless my life, to pour out His grace on me! My Father smiles when I get it right and struggles with me when I get it wrong, but all is great joy for Him because I belong to His family. I can look up to see my God smile at me. Though he disciplines me when I get out of hand, even that is a sign of His pleasure. No one disciplines someone else's kid. My Father's delight is when I grow up to look at least somewhat like Him. To reflect His glory. It's an almost forgotten miracle that we are passionately, mercifully loved and complete in God. A thing we should remember when we fall asleep at night and when we awaken in the morning!

The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty One Who will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness; He will quiet you with His love; He will exult over you with loud singing.
Zephaniah 3:17

Can you hear it? Your Father singing at the top of His lungs His great joy in you?

PSALM 149 - The Piper's Song

Praise the Lord! Sing to the Lord a new song, His praise in the assembly of the godly! Let Israel be glad in his Maker; let the children of Zion rejoice in their King! Let them praise His name with dancing, making melody to Him with tambourine and lyre!  (Verses 1-3)

I waited patiently for the Lord; He inclined to me and heard my cry. He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure. He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. Many will see and fear, and put their trust in the Lord.      Psalm 40   Italics, mine

What's the old song? The one we sang before our deliverance from all that binds us here on Earth? The piper played and we danced...nearly to the edge of the cliff. And somehow, for some strange reason, just before we leapt over the edge, we heard it. Strains of freedom that made us pause as the others ran into us or over us onward toward their end. "Move!" they cried as we hesitated, listening with more than our ears. This is the way, walk in it. But we had to break ranks to follow a winding path that led into the hills. Many of us had to fight our way out of the throng that ran after the piper, navigate treacherous territory with only the hope the voice we heard would lead us to higher plains. It would be a while before we got the old song, a dirge, really, out of our hearts and minds. We were used to singing it, the familiar chords pushing us forward, mesmerizing us so that we didn't consider where it led. The lyrics, lies from the pit.

Come away with me, my minions,
I will meet your every need.
Listen to this song I sing you,
It your very soul will feed.
Dance away in wild abandon,
Give no thought to life today.
If you follow where I lead you,
All your pain will go away.
Say farewell to all your sorrows,
I control all your tomorrows.

And so many of us did. Danced right over the edge, as our feet stomped to the rhythm of our own destruction. Addicted, trapped, lonely and afraid, the only song we knew now still on our lips but not ringing true. And the pain? Well, it takes more than the song to cover it. We have stumbled over the cliff and understand, at least to some degree, that the piper fooled us. But some of us still hope the lyrics were the truth. That the syringe we hold in our hands or the person we gave it all up for will somehow give us a better song to sing. One of joy and peace. But new songs don't emerge from old tunes sung in dungeons.

Come away with me, my Beloved,
I will lift you from this mire.
Take my hand that reaches for you.
I will set your soul on fire.
I have loved you from before
This world was ever made.
I have freed you from this prison.
Your sentence has been paid.
Your are beautiful in my sight.
Let me set all things right.

Can we believe the new song? So trapped by the old that we sit in our specific prisons staring down the darkness thinking there will never be light again. Holding onto a false promise because it's more comfortable, more familiar, than change. Believing somehow, some way, we will still get what we jumped over the edge to gain. The strains of hope come faint at first. Tiny rays of light...just enough to see the desperation of our lives. Won't you put all that behind? Beloved you are Mine. Never before had we seen quite so clearly the folly of our tune. The light dawning on our darkest needs.

It's why when we see our Deliverance come, streaming light and trumpet sound, that we dance and play the tambourine in streets surely paved with gold. Who does that? Comes to free us from jail? Pays our debt and wipes it clean? Who joys in our freedom more than we? Who trades our orange jail jumpsuits for dresses of purest white? How come? What for? It's not a lie!

The joy of laying our old song down to march to a different tune will cause us to pick up guitar and drums as we sing as loud as we can. I am my Beloved's and He is mine! Our Maker has seen our plight! He will not lead us over the cliff but into His kingdom bright!


 

PSALM 148 - The Celebrity in Our Midst

Let them praise the name of the Lord, for His name alone is exalted; His majesty is above earth and heaven. He has raised up a horn for His people, praise for all His saints, for the people of Israel are near to Him.  Praise the Lord!  (Verses 13-14)

You shall revere the Lord your God. You shall serve Him and hold fast to Him and by His name you shall swear. He is your praise. He is your God, Who has done for you these great and terrifying things that your eyes have seen.  Deuteronomy 10

We live in southern California not far from Hollywood where celebrities can be seen on a regular basis walking the streets of Rodeo Drive or lunching is some shi shi bistro. Crowds gather at the Hollywood Bowl to listen to everyone from Yo Yo Ma to Billy Joel. There are bus tours to the homes of the stars. Galas at Grauman's Chinese Theatre where celebrities have been immortalized by pressing their hands and feet into the concrete surrounding the building. Bono and U2 show up and everyone presses in for an autograph. Wannabes follow as groupies hoping for a chance at their own immortality. Those who lost their way to San Jose still hope to touch even the sleeve on Paul McCartney's jacket or the beef that wraps around Lady Gaga's torso. We are caught up in the glorification of our idols. And it hints at something innate within us. We are built for worship. It's funny to me because Vanessa has worked in downtown Hollywood and Will still does. Both have some great stories that would bring our idols crashing down to the reality in which we live. Vanessa saw a famous actress in an elevator at the hotel where she worked. "Mom, she is tiny and overly skinny, her hair was a ratty mess. She could have been mistaken for a homeless woman...and she was mean to everyone, growling orders at us as she rode the elevator up to our event." We are wasting our precious praise on paupers whose only claim for our adulation is that they entertained us for a while.

The terrifying things that Moses is speaking to the people of God about are the miracles He did in order to bring them out of slavery. Plagues. The parting of a sea. Salvation from the pursuing Egyptian army. Sweeping signs of His power and majesty. Entertaining perhaps, but only in retrospect. In the moment, watching the power of God play out was awesome...fearsome, even. God raising up a horn of triumph for a people who'd known nothing but bondage for generations. The pealing strains declaring freedom from mud bricks and infanticide. A God Who works for His people because He holds them near and dear is a God Who deserves our heartfelt praise, our most profound worship. In fact, that God is our praise.

Today alone I heard how God took the lumps from a friend's breasts and made them disappear. It was the day for biopsy. It became a day of praise and wonder. The doctor declaring a miracle of grace. Nothing to see here. Another friend recently was relieved to hear her husband didn't have the prostate cancer the doctor was sure of. We are giddy with joy, knowing God is near and hears us.

Even those walking through the valley of the shadow of death have great confidence in where they are going. We all face it. That day. The promise of our God doesn't just stop at, "I will be near you." He promises we will be with Him. Because for Him, our deaths are the culmination of time here and we get to go home. Where He has made a place for us. This terrifying God Who does wonders for His kids just wants us to come home.

He is the Celebrity in our midst. All others are paltry in comparison. He moves about the stage of our existence to maneuver us through our roles. Author, Director and Producer of stories so profound we must stand in ovation for the rescues, the switchbacks, the climaxes and the denouements. We will not find him on a Muzak-filled elevator acting out of character. Always steadfast in love, mighty in our direst circumstances, near when we are far. Creator of not only our particular drama, but also of the drama of the entire universe. Every animate living thing pays homage to God's brilliance. The actors are simply that...doing what Someone Else has conceived in order to bring the story to its glorious or inglorious end. Walk off stage if you will, but those who stay, listen to the Director, understand their lines and glory in their parts will inherit the praise of the Author.

Moses didn't understand at the time he was speaking with the sojourners from Egypt who had just crossed the Red Sea and witnessed the Egyptian army dead on the shores that there was one more terrifying and great thing God planned to do. The ultimate victory trumpet blown on a Sunday when the tomb was empty, the Roman guards groggy from a stunned sleep administered by fearsome angels as the tomb of the King of Kings opened at His command and He was unleashed as the risen Lord into a world in need of a Savior. History records it. The terror of the Friday before. The confusion of the quiet Saturday. The overwhelming audacity of an empty grave. All evil trumped. Satan forever stripped of his power. Such a deed hasn't been recorded before or since. All because our God came near. Because we are dear.

There's no rule that says Christians can't enjoy a good movie or like a particular movie star. That's not what I'm saying. True eminence, however, will make us looker higher. Not waste our praise on anything that isn't worthy of it.
 

PSALM 148 - A Whale of a Thought

Praise the Lord from the earth, you great sea creatures and all deeps, fire and hail, snow and mist, stormy wind fulfilling His word! Mountains and all hills, fruit trees and all cedars! Beasts and all livestock, creeping things and flying birds! Kings of the earth and all peoples, princes and all rulers of the earth! Young men and maidens together, old men and children!
(Verses 7-12)

Bill and I took a trip to Baja California, Mexico, a few years back to get close to the gray whales who travel there every year to mate and have their calves. We flew out of San Diego and landed on a dirt air strip miles from civilization. Then we took a bumpy bus trip to the water's edge where a "green" camp was set up. The setting and the conditions were primitive. The idea, of course, was not only to leave the space just as we found it, but also to experience the adventure as close as possible to how the stars and sand would see it. No frills. Just watching what nature does.

We were told that we might not see whales each time we went out. There was always a morning trip in the twelve person motor boat and an afternoon excursion. Our group, however, always saw whales. Up close and very personal. Spy hopping 20 feet from the boat, enormous mamas peeking out of the water to see what was going on. We were told that the mothers often come near the boat and push their babies from their backs in order to guide them closer to us. The thought was that whale watching boats such as ours have been out in the water for so many years that the mothers were unafraid of us, maybe even remember the boats from when they were babies themselves, and were possibly using our excursion for a little babysitting. Whales really like having their baleen scratched. That's what the guide said. "Just put your hand into the corner of its mouth, the baby will open its mouth, and then you can scratch away." No one else did it but me. I was all over the idea. Baby whale sidling up to the boat, nestling against it and me, bending over almost so I could fall out, reaching, reaching until I touched the whale's lips. Sure enough, she opened her mouth and completely relaxed with me as I rubbed her baleen with my hand. Mama bumped the bottom of the boat, almost spilling me into the water, when she'd had enough of my messing with her child. They both breached and went back down into the depths, leaving me and all of us sitting back in wonder.

Next day we saw the mating process. Whales, three of them, splashing and thrashing in frantic display, in and out of the water, the privacy of their union exposed not only to the sun and clouds, but to a small group of fascinated adventurers. Two males, one female. Always. One referees, apparently. These mammals of the deep doing what they were created to do many millenniums from their inception.

Life exists apart from what we experience day to day. Thinking that what surrounds our present circumstances is all there is. Our struggles sometimes drown us. That's why I like to take beach walks. (I know, I'm amazingly blessed to be able to do that.) I live five blocks from the Pacific Ocean and regularly see dolphins playing in the waves. It's soul soothing. It also reminds me there is another entire world just below the surface of the waters. I've seen some of it scuba diving, but below that there are squid too deep to watch and volcanoes that spew lava thousands of feet up and yet never touch the surface. And God made it all, sees it all, loves it all and protects it until He comes again.

Everything on earth responds to the Artist Who created it all from nothing. Moves with alacrity in the sphere for which it was designed. "It is good." God's assessment of the imaginations of His mind fulfilled in reality. As with any grand master, any screenwriter, author, director...God takes great joy in seeing the culmination of a dream. What is in the mind finally a reality. But God can expect His creation to respond. Trees to clap their hands as the wind blows through their limbs, whales to breach, giving a hint at their lives beneath the surface, snow to paint the earth's canvas white and rain to wash it clean. All things moving as they should. Stars shine. Suns glow. Birds and butterflies migrate on cue. Fruits burst out of barren tree limbs in their specific season.

And then there is mankind. The crown of creation. Made for His pleasure, created through Him and for Him (Colossians 1:6), as all things are. We, who have been given the gift of understanding such things as truth and beauty, who can actually look at a sunset and marvel, write a poem about its magnificence or crave to capture its beauty on canvas, we should be most vocal in our praise of One so much bigger in thought and power than we can possibly imagine. Kings and princes, lowly in comparison to the sovereignty of the God Who put them on their thrones should pay homage to Him just as much as the lowliest of us. By our very existence, by the very fact that we know we exist and don't simply dive the waters of the depths without understanding our own magnitude, we should look up. Created in His image, imbued with body, mind and spirit, our connection with the Artist is unique to all other creatures. We have the awesome ability to see the snow covered mountain tops, feel the chilly air against our skin, or trek the deserts of our planet and know that there is more. Our voices can give thanks. Acknowledge the beneficence and splendor of such a mind, of such omnipotence, of such grace. Of all creation, only we can stand and lift our hands in reasonable praise and thanksgiving, for only we have the capacity to wonder at it all.





 

PSALM 148 - Jesus Will Finish the Job

Let them praise the name of the Lord! For He commanded and they were created. And He established them forever and ever; He gave a decree and it shall not pass away. (Verses 5-6)

I am not ashamed, because I know Jesus, the One in Whom I have believed. And I am sure He is able to protect what He has trusted me with until that day.   2 Timothy 1:12

God began doing a good work in you, and I'm sure He will continue it until it is finished when Jesus Christ comes again.   Philippians 1:6

Just like God established the heavens and earth, decreed that they come to pass, so has He decreed my salvation. Established my place in the family of God as surely as He created the planet on which I walk today. In these rather chaotic times when our Christian faith is tested, I often pray, "Jesus, keep me." I know my propensity for wandering off, the nose of this sheep smelling adventure in the air. Wondering with my little mind what is on the other side of that distant hill that I've been told to avoid. Questioning whether the Shepherd is just keeping the flock together in order to make us tow the line, not wanting us to "really live."  Prone to wander, Lord I feel it, prone to leave the God I love. It's usually a very subtle sliding away from relationship. Taking for granted the ease of always being so well cared for by the One Who leads and provides for me. It's when the wolf comes knocking at the gate, leaping over the fence, snatching one of the flock away that I remember how much I need my Shepherd. Or when I'm sick and He tends to me. Or when He chases down the wolf and grabs me from jaws of deception.

In John 10, Jesus compares Himself to the Shepherd and us to His flock. That is fitting. The stunning thing about that, to me, is that makes His commitment to me stronger than mine to Him. Jesus has taken on the preservation of His own. Jesus's decree that we belong to Him is eternal. My Savior is more committed to my staying close and making it to the end than I am! As the Author of my salvation, the Writer of my story, He wills the end of my journey and directs my path and keeps me safe upon it. That isn't license to get up in the morning and live any old way I want. But, if I did that, and I have, I would be in a royal mess before long. And I have been. What is so amazing about being His ewe lamb is that Jesus will come and get me. And He has. Jesus has promised to keep me to the end...even asked the Almighty God to do the same on the night of His arrest. "I am coming to You. I will not stay in the world any longer. But they are still in the world. Holy Father, keep them safe, by the power of Your name" (John 17:11).

The only way I can possibly understand the heart of God toward me as His child is when I understand the lengths to which I would go to protect my own children. They are Farish children, born to Bill and me, given into our hands from their infancy, looking to us at first for sustenance and then for guidance. When I look into their faces, I see the reflection of us, some of Bill, some of me, yet uniquely packaged to create someone wholly individual. I know them well. Can guess their responses. And if miles and miles separate us, I can still feel them. Close my eyes and know them still. What would I withhold from them? Of course, my knowledge is limited as is my ability to love in the same overarching capacity my heavenly Father does. But I understand why He goes after the sheep He loves. Why He promises to keep us for all eternity as His own. If God wants His children close like I want mine, I get why He's so committed to my ultimate salvation. He loved first, just like Bill and I did. The everlasting decree of salvation to those who believe is first God's promise to us. His choice to bring me into the fold. My choice to love the Shepherd because He was willing to die for His sheep.

This wandering off that we do is pointless. Scratching in the brambles to somehow get free. Kicking up our heels in the pasture as we chase a giddy dream or frolic in a forbidden stream. Our Shepherd will let us float off just so far. If we sit today in a horrible situation of our own creation, rest assured, though we might think it hopeless, Jesus will come and get us. He will not find us, because we aren't lost to Him. We are only foolishly tick-ridden and captured, needing to know the way back to Him. The Shepherd knows the voices of His sheep, hears them in the brambles, His heart aching to bring them home, clean them up and lead them to green pasture. We only have to baa.

PSALM 148 - Leaving 2014 Behind

Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord from the heavens! Praise Him in the heights! Praise Him all His angels; praise Him all His hosts! Praise Him sun and moon; Praise Him all you shining stars! Praise Him, you highest heavens, and you waters above the heavens!  (Verses 1-4)

And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Behold the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be His people, and God Himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes and death shall be nor more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away." And He Who was seated on the throne said, "Behold, I am making all things new."
Revelation 21

On Christmas day all our presents are shiny and new. Jewelry sparkles, batteries still power the toys we gave our kids, no scratches yet on the bikes and no lost Legos from the Star Wars kits. Christmas signals a new year. Gives many of us the balm we needed to soothe the difficulties of the year now ending. We hold something new in our hands, given to us by people who love us. It helps somehow. But many of us need a whole lot more than that to be able to put away 2014. It got old fast for some. Started off slow and crept along after that.

Before us, though, is a shiny bright new year. Hopefully, nothing's ruined it yet. Today I was thinking about what God thought when the universe and all He created was brand spanking new. The glory of the stars still huddled more closely together, the music of their movements filling spaces that were silent moments before. How glorious they were when God said, "This is good." They've been ever expanding since then, moving further and further into a void now filled with innumerable galaxies that creep ever more certainly outward toward the infinite vastness of space. The universe is getting old. The host that clung together when the bang responded to God's command and burst into nothingness bringing light from larger and smaller balls of fiery substance are now moving away from each other, some even dying out. Though I'm sure God still glories in the goodness of what He made, He knows it needs to be renewed. It doesn't seem to have been made for eternal existence. Because it dies. He has in His mind making all things brand new. Including us.

But He doesn't wait for a cataclysmic end in order to make people brand new. If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come (2 Corinthians 5). In Jesus, we have a new mind, a new heart, a new spirit. We are eternal. Never to die out, though this earth isn't where we'll live forever. But while we are here, in this new year, 2015, we can live in a brand new way. God is all about polishing His "stars." (Philippians 2:15). Restoring the shine. Making us not only look brand new, but live in a brand new way: forgiven, restored, revived. The "former things" can actually be left back there in 2014, or 2013, or every other year before. We can start over as a whole new creation if we choose. We don't have to carry the junk from the past into our present, and I don't just mean we can lose weight. I mean we can live differently. That's our peculiarly amazing choice as children of God.

Vanessa asked me yesterday what my goals were for 2015. I really hadn't thought about it that specifically. Though I have things I want to accomplish this year, like finishing the book I'm writing and being competent in selling real estate, beyond that I have really one goal: be salt and light. It's a general command for those of us who know Jesus. Make people thirsty for Him, shine out in the darkness that surrounds us. But this morning, as I write this, I want a renewed mind, a refreshed spirit, enhanced joy. I want to leave behind the heartaches of this past year without their affecting my present moment. I want to join the stars and planets in exaltation of the God Who delights in their light. To sing with the angels more often than I take up the dirge that is this world's anthem. I want my God to shine me up. Buff out the scratches and make me new.

If your year has been a difficult one and you start 2015 with a certain fear that nothing will ever change, take heart. The omnipotent God Who created everything there is out of absolutely nothing can take your life...and mine...and make all things new. The old can pass away. Die. Buried forever. And 2015 can birth a brand new you.