the sad sage

i had the great privilege the other day to join my fiancé in an atypical conversation with a deist who i'm willing to bet has a very high IQ. before the server had even brought the bread and salad i was roped into the discussion the guys had going before we met up: the origin and potential end of the universe. umm, yeah. by the arrival of the steaks, we could add quarks, black holes, spirits, the apocalypse, the purpose of man, the exclusivity of Christianity vs hinduism, the crusades, scientific theory, the similarities and differences between the major world religions, and the weird tesseract-like layer of pure energy enveloping the sun that supposedly could power the world for like, a billion-jillion years. [and also whether or not nik copied my order because he realized my choice of steak was superior, or if he really had independently decided on the exact same meal. i hold the former, he the latter.]  because we weren't done with the discussion, we split a massively unhealthy dessert so we could finish talking…exactly where we began, but so full of food that i couldn't slouch and breathe at the same time.

 

and while it was a true privilege, i walked (or rather, waddled) out of the restaurant fighting off waves of frustration- and wonder, oddly enough. it's been a hot minute since i've met a person who not only believes in nothing that can't be explained a mathematical formula, but who also doesn't care at all. he gets the physical world. he thinks he has a grasp on the world religions. computer code? nailed it. steve jobs? stephen hawking? loves 'em. but for himself, life is a giant shrug. does he have purpose? eh, probs. *shrug*. is there something not strictly physical about a person? dunno. *shrug*.  what does he think about the possibility of eternity, and what that could mean for him? huh. guess i'll find out when i get there. *shrug*. he's content to focus on his career right now and worry about the afterlife later. he's got places to go and good things to do now.

 

a rising number of individuals from this generation have embraced this sort of thinking, though. take this friend's thought process, add some eastern-style clothing and a yoga mat, and you've got just enough religion to make these busy people feel safe without inconveniencing them with concepts like absolute Truth. i mean, if all these super-spiritual ideas come from old, dead, bald guys with single names- like, "confusious" and "ghandi" and "buddha," it must be wise enough to live by, right?  it all sounds 100% legit… until you process what you're being told.  

 

i've got a scratch-off poster of 100 really cool books to read ("cool" here applicable only for major nerds).  it includes everything from harry potter to the time machine to the origin of the species to the fireman to watership down. 

 

***bunny trail: harry potter- loved the series of wholesome, family-oriented characters with a wonderful moral compass, leaders worth following, and followers who know the value of friendship, loyalty, honesty and respect. time machine- amusing and fun. the origin of the species- darwin seems to think if he uses enough science words then most everyone would rather accept the theory than be bothered to suffer through more than a chapter or two. he's not wrong. the fireman- the absolute worst book to read during a global pandemic that kills people almost at random, causing most of society to shut down, about a global pandemic that kills people almost at random, causing most of society to shut down (the cool part being that instead of coughing, the victims of this pandemic spontaneously combust). watership down- bunnies galore. it's like a hug for the soul. read this one.***

 

with my library book app charged up, i began one that sounded fascinating- mahatma ghandi's "my experiments with truth"- his autobiography. i love hearing from leaders of other cultures and countries, especially ones who project wisdom, justice and some level of spirituality.

i was too far in to quit (and determined to complete the scratch off poster), but i wish i could have. it's depressing. for all his wisdom, justice and spirituality, after 300+ pages there is only one "truth" that ghandi was hardcore, dead-set, steadfastly sure of in this life. wanna know what it is? vegetarianism. i wish so bad i were lying.

 

is there a God? well, there's some kind of god/life force in all of us; this force has no name or specific characteristics, but it definitely/probably hears prayers and keeps me from temptation to eat meat or even drink milk.

which exclusive religion is true? eh, they're all true; i shall teach all my friends' kids to follow whatever god/life force they want, to be hard-working, and to not eat meat or even drink milk.

what "is" good or bad, or right or wrong? being mean to any living thing is bad and wrong; therefore i shall be good and right by never eating meat or milk. and also most grains. and spices. and eggs.  i shall eat bananas and walnuts all my days.

is there an afterlife? i sure hope so. even more days to eat bananas and walnuts.

 

this man who was so kind and respectful and honest to a fault never finds the truth he's looking for. he spouted words, phrases, ideas from the Bible and hindu teachings… but seemed to contradict both faiths; he wouldn't go for hinduism because he frankly didn't know anything about it, and he shied away from Christianity because it was boring. really. that was his reason. but since he was kind and respectful and honest and vegetarian, he has earned his place as a role model, leader, sage.

i feel it is worth actually saying that in many ways, he was indeed a role model, leader and sage. he gave his life to improving race relations, easing the suffering of the mistreated lower classes, feeding the hungry, educating the poor, giving them a voice in their country's government, practicing self-control in all things, and holding himself to very high moral standards. he was probably the first, and also last, truly honest lawyer who actually didn't lie to, for, or about any judge, witness or other lawyer. he promoted freedom of religion, openly (yet respectfully) spoke out against horribly unjust government practices, and led by example in all things.

 

but he never found truth.

he never reached the point of "satyagraha" (reliance on/pursuit of truth) where he felt he was pure enough. he prayed to "God," but was fully convinced that "there is no God but Truth." and he was still searching for it. his fasting hadn't helped. his impressive legal practices hadn't helped. his long list of excellent, kind, noble, peaceful, (vegetarian), generous, wise deeds… hadn't helped. 

 

what kills me, and what made me want to stop reading was when i saw just how close he was to the true Truth.  about 2/3 through his book, i read this:

 

"i hold today the opinion as i held then. to my mind the life of a lamb is no less precious than that of a human being. i should be unwilling to take the life of a lamb for the sake of the human body. i hold that, the more helpless a creature, the more entitled it is to protection by man from the cruelty of man. but he who has not qualified himself for such service is unable to afford to it any protection. i must go through more self-purification and sacrifice before i can hope to save these lambs from this unholy sacrifice. today i think i must die pining for this self-purification and sacrifice. it is my constant prayer that there may be born on earth some great spirit, man or woman, fired with divine pity, who will deliver us from this heinous sin, save the lives of the innocent creatures, and purify the temple."

 

and he did. ghandi died still pining for the Lamb who gave His life freely- it wasn’t taken- in order to not just purify the Temple, but to purify us and make US the new Temple. we have been delivered from every heinous sin, because God in His unfathomable, divine, "reckless" love caused to be born on earth that Holy Deliverer Jesus Christ. He didn't save innocent creatures, because innocent creatures have no need of saving. "Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, of whom i am the foremost" (1 Timothy 1:15). we are sinners, whose even "tiniest" of sins is an affront to God's holiness and incompatible with His character. perfection simply cannot be with even a slight imperfection without becoming itself imperfect. no matter how much ghandi (or you, or i) fasts or how little he lies, or how much he donates to the poor, he will never be perfect and thus literally cannot be in the presence of a perfect God. only a perfect sacrifice can make that possible. and that sacrifice is Jesus.

 

ghandi's prayer had already been answered, and ghandi refused to believe it.

the absolute worst part is that ghandi has now spent 72 years of atoning for his lack of perfection- and he still has an eternity. he will never be perfect enough to save even a little lamb, much less himself or another human.

in the world's opinion, if there is a heaven, then ghandi is definitely there and probably has one of the biggest mansions of all.

however, one thing ghandi got (mostly) right was that God is Truth. and the truth is that those who are not delivered from their heinous sins by the Lamb must themselves pay the penalty, which is eternal separation from God.

that's where ghandi is right now- he's in hell. that's where all the self-sufficient "nice people" who did "good" things are- they are in hell.

that's where my newest acquaintance will go if he chooses to continue his current plan of walking into eternity with zero concern. he will go to hell.

 

i made it to the end of the book, at last.

and if you are reading this, you made it to the end of this post.

i learned quite a bit from ghandi, but i hope somehow i'm not the only one.  my prayer is that his life and message might compel someone to find what the sad sage never did. if it's my new friend, or you, or your friend- whoever it is who finds the Truth will be blessed indeed.

beautiful feet

i am quite often surprised and amused by some of the things our church's band of 4 year olds can come up with to say. very often it's right at (or after) the point where i am tempted to give up in frustration.  but just as often it's a well-timed word that guarantees a good day no matter what comes because it's just too sweet to have anything spoil it.

this wednesday was no different.  one of our most faithful Cubbies entered the room went to his seat but instead of sitting down just looked at me shyly while i organized papers and whatnot.  his mother gave him an encouraging cue- "what did you want to tell your teacher?" and he opened his mouth and said, "you have beautiful feet!"

now, i've heard compliments on hair, jewelry, shirts, smiles, eyes, nails and you name it, but this was a new one. after another encouraging cue, he helped his mother explain that it was related to Isaiah 52:7 which says, "how beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him to brings good news."  good verse. it wasn't our memory verse for that week so i don't know what inspired that conversation, but it made my day.

what made it even more fitting was that our section of Bible stories covers the first Pentecost and the international spread of the early church.  so that night the 15 Cubbies who came heard about how Philip's "beautiful feet" took him for a nice jog through the desert to explain to a stranger from Ethiopia the gospel, because the good news is international and worthy of any level of confusion and exhaustion and persistence and passion that it takes to bring it to those who are ready to hear it. and that means we go wherever God says.  God told Philip, "go to the absolute middle of nowhere, and then run." so he did, and he found one guy.  but that guy went to Ethiopia and told others.  one of our Cubbies shouted out, "hey- i was born in Ethiopia!" and indeed he had been.  his family is also scheduled to move to Paris (the France one, not the Tennessee one) because God told them, "go."  another Cubby is about to head back to China, because God told his parents, "go."  the rest of them were not quite sure who they could tell here, but they will learn.  where sin abounds, grace abounds all the more- here, there and everywhere.

several promotional videos for the Annie Armstrong Easter Offering feature Pr Jorge, who is now back at his hometown of Comerio, Puerto Rico, because God said, "go." the home he ran away from is where God sent him right back to.  the people he stole from he is now giving to and preaching to.  the very same drug dealers he used to associate with for illegal reasons now see a man changed, free, happy, confident- and they want to know why. and so he tells them.  4 months after moving back to PR, a hurricane wiped out all resources for the isolated Comerio.  Jorge and Rebeca felt led to buy a washing machine… even though they had no electricity.  immediately, they received a generator from NAMB's SEND Relief division- and just like that, they had the only electricity in the area, and a way to reach the whole town.  within 6 months, they had an active house church. within a year, a group of SEND volunteers moved them into their permanent home, and set up their church building for the newly ordained Pr Jorge.  all because of their obedience- and the obedience of everyone who gave to the AAEO that provided the generator.  that money generated a lot more than electricity.

https://www.anniearmstrong.com/resource/jorge-rebeca-santiago/

it's all exciting to us, because places like Puerto Rico seem foreign and distant to us.  guess what.  they are neither.  on a map, maybe.  but in every single other respect, not at all.  the "exciting" part is because of the gospel, not the place on the globe where it is being told.  true, after a number of weeks or months or years the excitement wears off, and "new mission" feels "normal," not like a new field ripe for harvest with new converts every day and rapid church growth. 

i'm thinking that's why the North American Mission Board uses Pr Jorge for these videos.  it's easier to get north american churches to give money to people "over there" in cool places with palm trees and iguanas than it is to get them excited about cities like chicago or denver or boston.  but chicago and denver and boston are other pastors' mission fields, too.  God is doing big things in North America, too.  not often as explosive as in Puerto Rico, but just as important.

https://www.anniearmstrong.com/soto/

i had the privilege of working with Jorge and Rebeca last february and then again this past summer.  their joy is contagious, their passion is obvious, and their faith is inspiring. their kids are adorable.  their God is big.

that same big God is changing lives all over north america, too.  pastors, church planters, families, individuals- all those who have heard and responded to their Master's call have uprooted their lives and joined His work in SEND cities across the nation.  (and canada.  Jesus loves them, too!)

in addition to contributing, and more importantly, pray.

every trip i've been on, every place I've been, God has proven repeatedly that He doesn't really need your money.  He wants your obedience, faithfulness, trust.  giving is one way we obey, but the dollar figure is not the point at all. it's praying that puts us in direct contact with the One who does more with $5 and a few faithful followers than any celebrity could with $5,000,000.

i can't say with any degree of certainty where i will go next, or how long i will be there, or what i will do.  but i can say that wherever it is, Jackson or Jamaica, America or Africa, i want to be as faithful as people like Jorge, Rebeca, Timothy, Haley, Ben, Tabitha, Andy, Laura, Emily, Aimee, Casey, Bob, Melissa, Derek, Tony, Karen, Betina, Marcus, David, Nekayeh, Tom, Vijay, and a growing list of people who, just like Philip the Fleet-Footed Philosopher, have beautiful, beautiful feet. 

 

what's in a name

is there any more awkward moment when meeting a friend's new adorable baby and then trying to cover the look of horror that flashes across your face when the mother reveals his name? and i don't mean a normal, or trendy, or old-fashioned kind of name- i mean the name that is a collection of syllables with no recognized meaning or spelling.  or a normal name spelled incorrectly (like, on purpose, incorrectly) or identical to a sibling's name.  or the dad's favorite model of firearm.  or a heretic. yes.  oh, yes. 

names have a huge amount of significance in the Bible. very few of them were accidental or meaningless.  they bestowed blessings, or memorialized the birth or lineage of a child or carried the parents' wishes for his future.  they marked places where extraordinary or special events occurred or told who owned them.  (side note:  i've frequently wondered when reading through the Old Testament what the people did if 2 extraordinary events happened in the same place). but in any case, whether it was to preserve a memory or make a point or even a pun, names weren't generally given for no reason.  so when reading through stories, i've found it adds a layer of  things to think about the use of names and titles the author used- which is part of the inspiration from the Holy Spirit. 

the past few weeks have not been my favorite.  i don't know if i started this new year off much better than i did the last one, and if i said i have any more of my life figured out than back then, i'd be lying.  my favorite spot in front of the altar has been soaked with tears a couple times already, and it's…. yes, i've made it halfway through January.

but in the midst of a list of burdens i have been "blessed" with, i have also made it halfway through the book of Isaiah.  and just when i needed to be met with a reminder, a reminder came, in the form of a wonderful, wonderful story, with some truly spectacular names. 

it's been a favorite story of mine for some time, and on a day when i so needed a "reset," i was met by the same God that the main protagonist was.

travel back in time some 2700 (?) years or so- an age where indoor plumbing was inconceivable, "rich" meant owning 2 whole cloaks, and when the biggest army with chariots were all but guaranteed a victory.  the kingdom of Israel had split generations before into the kingdom of Israel and the kingdom of Judah.  the kingdom of Israel spiraled downward into idolatry and sin of the worst sort and was obliterated by Assyria, the people known for their delight in torture, murder, and insanely cruel practices in warfare.  the smaller kingdom of Judah hangs on, because just enough of their kings have just enough obedience to God and humility that they are simply teetering on the edge of destruction.  enter onto the scene the last king who cared about God, Hezekiah himself.  

after inheriting a kingdom in decline, with imminent doom forecasted by every honest prophet around,  the people within the city walls of Jerusalem awake to the sound they had been dreading: hundreds of chariot wheels and four hundred thousand-ish stomping feet of two hundred thousand-ish soldiers.  Assyria had come, ruled by Sennacherib (see? i told you these names were awesome!) who clearly had enough ego to feast on for a lifetime.  Assyria, because of its incredible army, was able to basically walk up and take over many of Judah's fortified cities. now they had come for the capital city Jerusalem and home of Solomon's Temple where Yahweh, God of Israel, dwelt above the Mercy Seat.  

in a world where every human was aware of the spiritual world, this could not have been worse news for Hezekiah.  every kingdom had its own deities, and it was common belief that if every there were a dispute between two of them, the bigger and better god would win. as Hezekiah hears of city after city being conquered by the approaching Assyrian force, he knows that the odds are not in his favor. not any of the odds.  barring a miracle, they're screwed.  done for.  toasted.

even worse, Assyria knows it, too, and they give all the credit to their god (who, come to find out later, is named Nisroch…. wth?!?!).

while the entire city hunkers down in terror,  the leader, or "the Rabshakeh" of the army (these names just get better and better, don't they?) delivers the ultimatum :  surrender, or die.  he "knows" what his god has helped their army do. he knows his army is superior.  and he also knows how to be a jerk.  to add insult to injury, the Rabshakeh repeatedly refuses to recognize Hezekiah's title of king as well as blaspheming Yahweh by comparing Him to all the other "deities" he has beaten. throughout the entire dialogue, you can see the underhanded insults he sneaks in, as the two sides compare the names of the other gods to Yahweh, and the names of the cities to Jerusalem, the King Sennacherib vs. the King Hezekiah.  

i think the worst part would be that at least 75% of what the Rabshakeh said was true.  on paper, Hezekiah has ZERO to boast about.  half his kingdom HAS been beaten.  Assyria HAS won.  Assyria HAS almost 200,000 soldiers right there.  those other gods LOST.  they were TRAPPED. seriously, what response could you give?

Hezekiah doesn't.  he doesn't reply anything.

he leaves his throne, puts on sackcloth and ashes, and walks straight over to the Temple.  he takes the Rabshakeh's "love letter" and puts it down on the floor in front of his God and says, "your problem now."

"O LORD of Hosts, God of Israel, enthroned above the cherubim, you are the God, you alone, of all the kingdoms of the earth; you have made heaven and earth.  Incline your ear, O LORD, and hear; open your eyes, O LORD, and see; and hear all the words of Sennacherib, which he has sent to mock the living God.  Truly, O LORD, the kings of Assyria have laid waste all the nations and their lands, and have cast their gods into the fire.  For they were no gods, but the work of men's hands, wood and stone.  Therefore they were destroyed.  So now, O LORD our God, save us from his hand, that all the kingdoms of the earth may know that you alone are the LORD" (Isaiah 37:15-20)

in English, the only way to differentiate the names in Hebrew was to play with grammar. so every time the name "LORD" is used in all caps, the Hebrew word is Yahweh- the name He gave to His own people when He established His relationship with them.  Hezekiah's response was to immediately go and tell Yahweh just how lousy things looked from below while he acknowledged the One who had a much higher viewpoint, at the same time as he boldly used the covenant name that identified him with God, and God with His people.  just like a kid in need of a parent, he brings the words that mock and blaspheme and ridicule and hurt, and he physically puts it on the ground in front of him and points to it in the Temple and demands the help from the only One who could save them.

i have several times felt the need to not just pray, but to follow Hezekiah's show and tell example.  there is something liberating about not just saying words, but going through the action- of taking the paper with a diagnosis, or the phone with a harmful text or post, a picture of an unsaved person, a symbol of something you can't let go- and coming to the altar and setting it down before Him.   having done this before, i can testify to the freedom and relief that comes from truly releasing control and submitting to the all-powerful.  i have been facing what feels like an army of lies for too long.  every time it looks like it has retreated, it's only to surge back with reinforcements.  like a stupid Rabshakeh behind my shoulder whispering in my ear,  a nonstop cycle of partial truths and whole lies has been spinning around in my head.  i'm under no illusions that i alone can overcome the proverbial army facing me.  somehow, even though i'm 100% most of it is a lie, some of it isn't.  i have been struck down. i've hit the floor more times i can count.  i've done more wrong than right, and have absolutely no excuse for the wreckage behind me.  "but God…" by myself, there really is no hope. but when i come before the throne of grace and call on the only Name i need, there is an overabundance of hope.

if Hezekiah's prayer is my favorite part of the story, a close second is the ending. after humbly praying for God's salvation, God replies. "watch this," He says.  the next morning, 185,000 Assyrian soldiers are dead. dear old Rabshakeh gets called back home and Sennacherib goes to his own temple to pray to his own god.  seizing an opportunity, his own sons Adrammelech and Sharezer took him out.  i'm sure it had nothing to do with being given such horrible names… or maybe a little.  i wouldn't blame them.  like they were nothing more than an afterthought, God wipes away an army, sends their champion home in shame and puts their blasphemously proud king six feet under.  no name a man gives himself compares to the only true God. His name is Yahweh, Adonai, Immanuel, El-Elyon, God Most High, Lord of hosts.  

"Because he holds fast to me in love, I will deliver him; i will protect him, because he knows My name.  when he calls to Me, I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble; I will rescue him and honor him; with long life I will satisfy him and show him My salvation" (Psalm 91:14-16).

do you know this name?

the big IF

i hate realizing new areas where i lack discipline, or screw up or disappoint.  i already know it's a long list, and i've even been told the list- not even kidding you.  one of those areas is prayer. to be brutally honest, i rarely enjoy it. maybe i'm doing it wrong, but even still, i must confess that 99.4% of the time it is a struggle and most days of the week it might be right on the top of things to fall off the to-do list. 

it took me an age, but i came to realize one of my major obstacles was that i simply couldn't tell any difference in my prayers.  i love our church's women's prayer group, hearing from the others what's going on in their lives, and taking turns praying for each other… but it's hard to say for the hundredth time that my prayer request is the same as the month before and that i can't see any change in my situation.  especially on those nights when several in the group are celebrating spiritual victories and obstacles overcome.  i've spent most of the past few years fighting just to keep up with daily life.  i know it can't really be true, but when i don't see any tangible evidence it's super hard to back up the claim that prayer is powerful. i was jealous of seeing other people's prayers answered and mine not. they would say they had the same struggles- but daggum, they made it look easy. yup; i was a little green-eyed monster who couldn't see why their "IFs" came true and mine grew stale. that tiny word "IF" that carries so much possibility and hope within. seriously- just think of all the ideas and inventions and plans and mind-blowing, incredible things that have followed someone saying, "IF…" 

i commiserate closely with Martha and Mary who ran to Him with tears running in rivers down their faces as they each questioned Him.  they knew He was able, knew that He loved them, and could fathom no earthly reason why He wouldn't answer their prayer for Lazarus's healing. that word, "IF" just doesn't go away.  IF You had been here, Lazarus wouldn't be dead right now.  IF You had come.  IF we could see things from Your perspective. so many IFs that only become clear on the other side of the grave. so many of the miracles He performed began with an IF, a petition for His mercy as the wounded and poor and outcast and ailing clung to that hope before them of deliverance.

i don't know when this thought hit me like a brick in the face, but since it's right before Easter, everyone who sets foot in a church this week is going to hear about this passage.  and it's about what most would, under most any other circumstance, term an "unanswered prayer." it's an "IF" of epic proportions. even weirder, it's Jesus who's praying.

right after the Last Supper, Jesus goes with his few best friends to the garden of Gethsemane to pray, like they did all the time. they sang, they talked, they bonded.  then Jesus left 8 of them and took the last 3 and told them quite frankly, "I'm scared to death." He asked them to pray, and then went a couple trees away and prayed Himself.  He fell down on His knees and begged God Almighty to find some other way- any other way- to accomplish the task… the task of saving us.

it's not just once.  three separate times He prays the exact same thing.  because He's perfect, He willingly submits to God's will- but still, He prays for that cup to pass away. "IF there is ANY OTHER WAY, make this cup pass." 

every time He went back to check on Peter, James and John He found them dead asleep.  and it's only us who realize later that their eternity (and ours…) was hanging in the balance, and they're snoozing. i don't know about you, but i am immediately humbled by the thought of that prayer.  Jesus didn't have  to do anything.  He could have zapped right back to heaven and rejoined the Father and Holy Spirit and all the celestial beings in eternal perfection and left humanity to its fate. 

and He would have been thoroughly justified in doing so.

the only thing He gained by this, the greatest sacrifice, was us.  you.  me. that church member you secretly can't stand.  your boss who drives you bonkers. the neighbor down the street with the perfectly manicured lawn (…who sneers at yours while her dog pees by your mailbox…). that family member whose special talent is saying the wrong thing in a loud voice.  He took that cup for us.

can you imagine, just for a minute, if Jesus's prayer were answered and that cup just disappeared?

Luke 22:43 mentions an angel that comes to Him during this last, desperate prayer.  i wonder if it's one of the same ones that appears at the end of His first temptation, where He was even given that way out He requested.  The Devil himself offers Jesus the world. "You remember how You made me 'ruler of this world'?  Yeah, IF You bow down and worship me, i'll back off and give this whole place back to you." for Jesus, it's of course an unthinkable way to avoid the Cross. He'd known for ages that the ultimate purpose for those 33 years on this little planet was its redemption, and the Triune God had already designed how that redemption would happen.  but on some level, during that time in the wilderness, Jesus was still tempted.  Satan gave Him a way to take Earth away from his clutches, bypass Calvary altogether and all for the low price of a bow and a word of praise. He literally has an out, right there.

now a couple years later in the Garden, Jesus knows that no matter how many times He prays IF, our only hope is Him. He also knows that the only way to make our IFs possible is through His. 

i'm still not super glad most of the time for the IFs i juggle. but i'm coming to learn (slowly) that i will be grateful later on for each IF- the big ones, the little ones, the confusing ones, the painful ones, the scary ones. when i can't see the answers, it's not His fault- and there are answers (even if they are "no").

so i can pray knowing that each IF has an answer. 

i can pray in hope, just like every other person He ministered to. 

i can pray IF, because He hears and knows and understands. 

and i can pray knowing that "all the promises of God are Yes in Christ," and that not an ounce of that hope in Him is ever misplaced. because their prayer was "unanswered" Martha and Mary could "see the glory of God." and because Jesus's own prayer was "unanswered" we can now see glimpses of that same glory that we will view in full strength later on. if that's what He can do with their IFs, i can't wait to see what will happen with each of ours that we give to Him!    

passed over

i love the (few, and far between) moments where various unrelated areas of my life align and correspond in ways i can't explain, but that leave little gems of truth sprinkled around like a giant Holy Spiritual sneeze.  it's just the greatest thing ever, running around and snatching them up, savoring them and chasing off to the next.  i wish it happened more often.

as often happens after tuesdays, i woke up today and found another wednesday in progress. which also means that it was time to brace myself against the oncoming tidal wave of Cubby-ness.  as per usual, i made my way into the upstairs room at church a couple hours early in order to gather, prepare, photocopy and set up everything needed to engage 18 small people for 2 hours.  of course, this also included at least one prayer.  i'm not quite vain enough to assume that any good coming out of that time in AWANA is because of me. i've also benefited this past month from hearing multiple sermons from 3 different churches in 3 different states about prayer, that is to be a central goal this year in these churches. it's like the SBC has this big conspiracy to get us all to pray or something… huh. i hope it's working. i'll say it's got me jump-started, at least.

but also happening the past month-ish or so, we've been spending our Cubby story time learning about the beginnings of the Hebrew people, from Abraham to crossing the Red Sea and how God is big and strong enough to keep ALL of His promises ALL the time.  this has led to not only multiple rousing renditions of "My God is So Big" but also a fair number of hysterical quotes and questions from the inquisitive little minds.  for our last story time before Christmas break i was blessed with the task of explaining the ten plagues. i know, i'm still feeling guilty about it. ("Merry Christmas- look, this girl is covered in boils!") the good news is that i was also able to include the positive part of the story- the very first Passover, and the reason why one of Jesus's nicknames is the "Lamb of God." even despite the trauma and total grossness, God's plan for deliverance can be seen throughout.  not only that, but also His holiness, His grace, His bigness and His power.  the Old Testament is chock full of some pretty huge promises that only a big, powerful and loving God could keep. that magnificent display called Passover was only the beginning. 

this week, outside the Cubby's story material, i wound up reading the story of the last Passover- or at least, the last one Christians celebrate.  today it was Mark's account, which includes some heart-wrenching details that get me every time.  i was struck this afternoon by the hint of irony that only Jesus would gotten at the time, when the disciples asked Him where He'd like them to prepare the Passover meal. the very same night that the passover lamb would be killed, the perfect Passover Lamb stood outside the city gates, looking a bit over to the side, where a little hill called Golgotha made a bump by the side of the road, knowing that He would be arrested in a matter of hours.  Peter and John ran off to prepare the meal, and Jesus was spent His last free day with the other disciples, knowing that everything was already in place.

once that seder meal was over and Jesus and the remaining 11 friends were in the Gard of Gethsemane, we read a prayer that i can't think right now of having heard many sermons on.  i've heard a lot about the Lord's Prayer, how to pray, why to pray, what happens when we pray, and the prayers of all kinds of people throughout the Bible… but not many about this one.  or at least the part i noticed this time.  it's one of the few "unanswered" prayers in Scripture.  and by "unanswered" i mean it in the same way others do, which is really "not answered in the way i want it to be."

right there, in the Bible, Jesus (who by this point is in the middle of a full-blown anxiety attack) prays, "Father…make this go away. please don't make me do this." of course, this is all said in perfect faith, and He also says, "Your will be done- if there's no other way, then Your will be done."  but that cup did not go away. there was no other way. if anyone's prayer wasn't going to be answered immediately in the affirmative, who'd guess it would be His? and yet just like with Moses, God had the perfect plan for our deliverance- and it involved the sacrifice of the Lamb.

i've got a few "unanswered" prayers of my own that i took downstairs to my usual place, and made another wet spot on the carpet in front of the altar. i know the prayers of so many biblical characters often seemed to be ignored for long, even when they seemed to be God-honoring or fulfilling promises He'd made.  Abraham waited decades… DECADES… for some of God's words to come true.  the Hebrews were in Egypt for 400 YEARS before they were freed- you know they'd been praying for at least 395 of those for deliverance, yet before the first Passover generations of slaves had prayed and cried, lived and died, asking God why they were being 'passed over' and ignored. Job, Elijah, David, Hannah, Zachariah, Paul… and even Jesus.  they all prayed, for healing or strength or deliverance or children or hope or faith.

so what do we do?  we pray anyway. we pray knowing that every promise will be kept and that the prayers of the faithful are never passed over. they may not be answered in the way we think or hope, but if not, it's only because God's answer is even bigger and better and more beautiful than we knew to think or hope for.  in my tiny, clean, Type A world, i've got answers to my prayers that seem to be all kinds of wonderful and God-glorifying.  but if i pray like Jesus and always, always make His will the ultimate aim, then i can be pretty sure of 2 things: first, that prayer will be answered.  and secondly, it probs won't be what my tiny, but clean, world has room for.  and that's okay. (it doesn't feel like it, but it is).  the Passover Lamb has everything prepared for us; He's got every answer- He IS every answer, and we have Him interceding for us even now, guaranteeing those answers.

i'm not sure how much of the hugeness of Passover sunk in to those 4 year old brains, but maybe someday i'll be surprised- it's happened before.  everyone but Jesus tends to underestimate a kid's ability to hear, understand and trust what's going on, which is utterly amazing when you factor in all the pinching, laughing, poking, shoe-untying, hairband adjusting, crying and bathroom visiting that they are also able to accomplish at the same time.  somehow, God makes Himself known to them- and us.

now if only i can pull off "My God is So Great" like a Cubby, i'll be set.

a lament for Orlando

ugh.

i just really feel the need to tell the world that i have a sinus infection.

it's hard enough for me to think some things through, but when you've got gelatinous boogers twanging on all your brain cells, it really does something to things like cerebral functioning, temperament and personal tissue preferences.  there are some thing you just shouldn't get store brand when you are sick.  1-ply (anything)= hatred. 

our mission team to Brazil hadn't even made it past Washington DC before every tv in the airport was throwing us a barrage of updates and opinions and news conference clips regarding the latest massacre, this time in Orlando.

i had feared this very thing- the transition between a week of seeing what God is doing in other countries and in the lives of our friends (and ourselves)… and coming back to America, where things like politics, work drama, societal obligations, errands and the cat all compete for my attention.  

and then i went to a Bible study.

after a great dinner, we sat around an irregularly shaped coffee table and opened our notebooks, clicked our pens and flipped our Bibles to the… saddest and most depressing and mournful book EVER.

Lamentations, man.  Lamentations.  

it is exactly what it sounds like.  it is a collection of the prophet's (historically, and therefore here, Jeremiah's) laments.  his whines. his groans. his poetically penned complaints. no, really- every chapter is written as an alphabetic acrostic. he's got skill, even in grief.

you might say, like i have before, "why on earth?"  why would that ever be included in the Bible?  why was he so frickin' upset? why didn't God tell him to hush up?

and also, "why should i care? how can that ever make me feel better?"

here's why.  just bear with me and my snot-saturated brain for a bit.

here's the layout of this situation that was all up in Jeremiah's face:

he was a part of the nation of Israel, which had for all practical purposes split into Israel (10-ish tribes) and Judah  (1-ish tribes, depending on land, of which the Levites didn't get any, and also the fact that Ephraim and Manasseh were both from the same son of Israel. yeah, i know.  there's really 13 tribes, but one of the 12 sons got a double share, and then one son inherited the priesthood instead of land, so everything shakes out alright). 

anyway, ALL the tribes had… failed.  epically.  this was the origin of the "you had ONE job!!" line.  their ONE JOB was to show how great their God was.  they didn't even have to "do" much.  HE WAS RIGHT THERE.  LITERALLY. PHYSICALLY. VISIBLY. RIGHT. THERE. every nation had seen and heard and wondered at the HUGE things this "Yahweh" was doing. there was a temple where His presence resided, 24/7.  seriously, all the Jews had to do was point.

every time they forgot Him, He gave another gracious reminder of His eternal, all-powerful presence.  then they were good for about 6 months.  possibly a generation, if they were truly impressed.

He made a covenant with them.  "follow these rules, be different from the pagans, and I will love, cherish, protect, bless, multiply, thrill, fulfill you. break the covenant, and I will punish you."

they agreed.

then they forgot. 

then they flat-out ditched Him.  turned their backs on the Deity that brought them through fire and water, and started praying to carved rocks and chiseled wooden pillars.

the One thing that set them apart as a people was the one thing they spurned.  they looked across to the Moabites and Amorites and Ammonites and Hittites and Hivites and Philistines (and yes, they sound like congested people named them all)- and they said, "eh- that's not so bad. it's just a little different. no way would God really have a problem with me doing this."

enter the prophets.

this tiny little subset of Jews were called individually to alert their fellow men of the coming danger.

because God did, and does care.  it's not ultimately about the "things" the people were doing.  it's simply because He is HOLY. He is so much greater and better and stronger and more perfect than our minds can fathom that He can not be around sin, much the same way that light simply cannot ever coexist around darkness.  even a little candle will shatter gloom.  the very nature of light, or holiness, is such that it is forever separated from darkness, or unrighteousness. it's why He made that covenant.  it's why He made the sacrificial system and a non-deadly way for His chosen people to come near Him, live in His presence, speak to Him "as a man speak to his friend" like Moses. it's why He said, "don't be like them" - because they were… they were evil, folks. evil. before you blame God for taking out those nations, research "Molech"-just not during lunch.  and every time His people chose evil over Him, He patiently waited, He nudged, He reminded, He spoke through prophets- everything to get their attention first.  He did everything before punishing- if that's not love, i don't know what is.

well, they didn't listen to Jeremiah, just like they didn't listen to any of the other prophets.

and because God is holy and just and always keeps every single promise, He held to the covenant.  He left His temple. and punishment came.

and Jeremiah wept.

this is not the "oh boy, this hurts" crying.

this is the hopeless, despairing, pain-beyond-words-or-tears-or-breath crying. 

the armies were coming.  the cities were under siege. the chosen people were literally starving to the point of cannibalism. and they still chose to seek favor and help from their carved rocks and chiseled wooden pillars, rather than receive the forgiveness freely offered by God through the prophets. 

guys, i was convicted. and this ain't the germs talkin'.

working through such a depressing 22 verses hurt. it still does.  if my throat weren't sore, i might be weeping right now.

this nation- my nation- has forgotten and rejected God as surely as Israel did all those thousands of years ago.  i know America isn't God's chosen people, but even His Church within America seems to be floundering a bit.  our ONE JOB is to display God and His love, mercy, justice, forgiveness, power, glory… His HOLINESS. i need to be as broken as Jeremiah over the state of this country and what it is costing our souls. i am surrounded by lost, hurting, spiritually confused people and i... i have been called by God to be a witness. and i have failed.  i have retreated.  i have caved to pressure.  and now i see judgement on its way, and i should be weeping a whole lot more than i have been.

the thing with the prophets, and God's judgements, and all that stuff nobody likes to talk about it that it is just impossible to have a true concept of His holiness and a warped concept of sin.  they go hand in hand.  to minimize one is to minimize the other.  you can't take God seriously and in the next breath say, "my sin's not so bad."  because sin is a direct affront to His holiness.  more than that, to wave off sin is to show straight-up contempt for Jesus' sacrifice.  the epitome of love, mercy, grace, justice, humility, perfection- and sinners blow it off.  "my sin's not so bad; thanks for the gesture, Jesus, but i'm a pretty decent person and i don't need your sacrifice."  when we itemize sin, when we compare ourselves, when we apply our own standards to ourselves and hold it up to God like it's some great accomplishment...all of it...all of it takes the camera off God and focuses on us.  try as we might, our souls are never gonna be a pretty picture apart from Christ. we've deluded ourselves into thinking we can dress up the outside and be okay.

i have heard many times that a main deterrent to Christianity is that while Jesus and His teachings are pleasant, God and His punishments-particularly of the ancient non-Israelite nations- are simply intolerable.  they shout "God is love" as if they really understood that phrase and stalk off in anger.  could you appreciate a God who didn't take Himself seriously, who didn't punish wrong, who broke His word and was so small and weak that human brains could completely understand Him? no, really- think about that for a sec before you answer. they ignore the atrocities those people were committing, in flagrant disobedience to God, and say Love wouldn't punish it. God IS Love- but His perfect Love is included as a part of His majestic HOLY character.

they, just like the ancient Israelites, have forgotten His holiness. we as Christians have snuck into the background and hidden from these hard questions because we don't always know the answers- we have forgotten, too.

it hasn't happened overnight.  the Jews didn't collectively wake up one Tuesday and say, "Hey- here's an idea.  let's ask that Asherah pole for some rain, good crops and many many children."  but what was once "wrong" became "weird." before too long, "weird" became "different." soon after, "different" turned into "acceptable/normal/okay/celebrated".

but unlike Jeremiah, we aren't weeping.  we've become callused to words like "abortion" or "Obama" or…

or "lie" and "pride" and "gossip" and oh yes, i just said all that.

we've downsized our "little" sins. we've blamed those who struggle with the "big" sins.  we've got them all ranked and ordered, so we know just how upset we should be. 

the problem is that ALL OF THIS takes our focus off God.  if we were doing our job and upholding His holiness, i think several things would happen.

-we would recognize that our sins are every bit as bad as anyone's from Orlando, whether inside the club or outside. murderer, hater, liar, thief, gay, glutton, abuser, gossip/slanderer...if you sped on your way to work, you broke the law.  if you can't even handle state laws, how on earth do you reckon you're just fine with God's laws? quit calling a wicked gunman "God's judgement on gays" unless you're ready for God's judgement on your sin, too.  NO!! just no. man, that makes me so mad- i almost feel like my fever's coming back.  STOP IT!!

-we Christians would recognize our part in America, and that we share some of the blame for these atrocious sins happening every day across the nation while we creep back into our tiny little comfort zones and block it out. we need to speak out, fight evil, uphold righteousness, be involved in this country and do more than we are to represent Christ.

-we would get over our pride and reach out. reach out to everyone. even if 99% of the ones you reach out to choose to remain trapped in their blindness, if you hold that flame up someone might just see their way to the path leading to eternal Life. BE THE CHURCH.  the Church is the Holy Spirit's dwelling place, the arms and feet and eyes and heart of Jesus.  BE THAT. not the loudmouths who so full of anger and pride that they can't recognize the hurting souls all around them.

-we would weep.  we would weep for our families, our friends, our coworkers and our neighbors who don't/can't/won't see God and His truth.  we would weep for our LGBT community and the sin committed against them.  yes, i think that lifestyle is wrong and outside God's will, but God is lovingly waiting for them, not targeting them.  no, God was not caught off-guard by the massacre; even though it was wrong, it is a part of God's plan that uses people's evil to show His contrasting holiness.

because the whole point of the Gospel is that because of God's holiness and our utter inability to perfectly maintain His standards, there was a Plan already in motion.  He wants to be with us.  He wants us to love Him. so He took a "risk" a gave us free will to follow… or to flop.

God knew we'd flop.  He knew that sheep and goat sacrifices were not a long-term solution to our daily sins.  so to maintain His holiness, keep His covenant and punish sin- but ALSO to not destroy the objects of His affection (that's us, people)- He sent Jesus. 

those who accept His sacrifice are forgiven.  that's it.  clean slate. there is no "ranking" of sinners or penance to be paid.

those who refuse it will take the punishment themselves.  the Jews got a taste of it- the temple forsaken by God, they were left alone and destitute. hopeless and without anyone to even hear their parched cries. 

the Gospel is a word of hope, however.

even though the critics, and many Christians… and i… forget, even something as tragic as a massacre is not outside God's plan.  His greatest victories often come through the most troubling of crises.  our lack of understanding does not negate His omnipotence,  or His ability to turn the whole situation around for good.  this is a dark time for us, for our nation and specifically now for our LGBT community. we as Christians ARE GOD'S TEMPLE that is not forsaken, the visible presence of God- and we have ONE JOB.  let's do it! let's fall down and weep with those who weep.  let's proclaim the news of hope like Jeremiah.  let's hold up a flame and light the way to the Cross, where His holiness is fully satisfied, were darkness disappears, where Hope is eternal and where all God's chosen people find the comfort, love, forgiveness and peace that can only come from Him.

En-hakkore, and 999 more

most of the (tiny) readership and many beyond have been informed and updated regarding my most recent medical scare.

the one person in our church who hadn't been just bumped into me at Panera, so now he's all caught up as well. the one time i needed my main communicator to communicate, he decided not to. (you had one job, Mr James- one job!). HIPPA is so proud.

despite everyone else's better judgement, i felt an intense desire to go to church this sunday.  i knew for my emotional health that i desperately needed fellowship. so 36 hours after discharge from the hospital i returned to my normal pew and just listened to the choir for a final rehearsal and sound check.  i love being able to sing the songs twice; once just isn't enough for some of the classics.

and that's when the biggest wave of guilt rushed up and soaked me, head to toe.  i knew it was coming.  i knew it was deserved.  and i think i know at least some of what i need to do about it now.  open my big ole' mouth.

my devotions have picked up pace a tad, and after dragging through hundreds of Old Covenant laws and the establishment of Israel's theocracy, i am now into the period of the judges.  this is the point where every "good" Christians does the "facepalm" and eye roll at every page.  several times, you can't even read a single page without seeing YET AGAIN the Israelites forget the God who saved them and turn to poles and statues and animals- before falling again into war and disease and fear. then a judge would arise, deliver God's people through his faith in God and God's instruction and grace… and then the judge would die.  it's the "lather, rise, repeat" cycle on every bottle of shampoo. over and over again. 

and then you realize you're no better, and quite possibly worse.

i've had all manner of drama in my past. a lot of it i've been able to block from memory. a lot of it i have not.

but the fact remains that i am still here.  none of the past hundred attempts to take me out has succeeded.  damaged me, yes.  hurt, heck yes. confused, angered, exhausted me- oh, definitely.  but didn't kill me.

tuesday morning at 0800, all i knew was that something was wrong and i didn't feel so hot. 

and hour after that, and for a day following, all i knew was that i had "a mass."  there was "a mass" of unknown etiology in my pelvis. 

it could be "only" a crazy-huge infection.  but it could be a tumor.  there could be meds, therapies, surgeries, medical equipment i've never seen before and life-threatening procedures in my immediate future.  i walked into a doctor's office with a stone entryway, each rock engraved with a doctor's name- every one of them said "oncologist."

my prayer life did a 180-degree turn.  that's when the fear set in. in just a few hours, i went from being a confident NeoICU nurse to a nervous,  shift-change admit patient that every nurse complains about.

i think i did a pretty good job of keeping my mentors and closest friends and family updated.  one of them emailed the sunday school group, someone said something wednesday night at Bible study, and i had a half-decent internet signal to keep facebook peeps informed.

i am ashamed to say what happened inside me, though.  outwardly, i kept up appearances.  i smiled and joked as much as i could.  i helped with the admission form and IV when it beeped.  i took showers and wore my comfortable street clothes as much as i could, staying out of the bed during the day and eating what, and when, i was able.  i never shed a single tear.

i kept up as much as possible with my devotionals, but my enthusiasm for the cities and landmarks of the 12 tribes' boundaries waned to near zero.  i didn't care.  part of me was tired.  all of me was angry and confused and freaked out so badly my hair was about to frizz. i didn't know what to pray.

so i didn't.

i knew other people were praying, and i have seen their prayers answered. i know my prayers are so weak they seem pitiful to me.  i am not good at seeing the answers to my prayers, though i see others'.  i so often want to give up, or rush through prayer the same way i choked down Leviticus.  i hoped like fury that was "good enough."

it's not.  it's just not.

even after the crisis was over, and the pain turned out to be from an abscess and not a tumor, the relief was as crippling as the previous fear.  and i still didn't know what to say or pray.

"En-hakkore" means "The Spring of the One Who Cried Out."  good ole' Samson named that one.  he had just whipped the tails (literally) of a thousand Philistine pagans with a donkey mandible and a mean backhand serve.  after his workout he was thirsty and cranky and told God just what he thought about the situation, demanding water like he deserved it.  God answered, and water appeared out of a hole in the ground.  and Samson's tortured cry of agony turned to one of (moderately) grateful praise.  i came scary-close to a major faith crisis.  i was dry and at the end of my rope.  i cried out for an answer, any answer, but especially the better, safer, easier-to-fix answer.  and after a faithful chastisement i was met with a merciful answer of the best possible diagnosis i could hope for.  my agony and fear melted away and only an awed thankfulness was left in its place.

i sat in the pew yesterday morning and heard, twice, the words to a classic that should never, ever go out of style.

and i felt, twice, the wave of guilt wash over me.  it was followed by an even bigger wave of grace.  i left, thoroughly drenched and thoroughly determined. 

O For a thousand tongues to sing

My great Redeemer's praise!

The glories of my God and King,

The triumphs of His grace!

My gracious Master and my God,

Assist me to proclaim,

To spread through all the earth abroad

The honors of Thy name.

 Jesus! the Name that charms our fears,

That bids our sorrows cease;

'Tis music in the sinner's ears,

'Tis life, and health, and peace.

He breaks the power of cancelled sin,

He sets the prisoner free;

His blood can make the foulest clean,

His blood availed for me.

He speaks, - and, listening to his voice,

New life the dead receive;

The mournful, broken hearts rejoice;

The humble poor believe.

Hear him, ye deaf; his praise, ye dumb,

Your loosened tongues employ;

Ye blind, behold your Savior come,

And leap, ye lame, for joy.

Look unto him, ye nations; own

Your God, ye fallen race;

Look, and be saved through faith alone,

Be justified by grace.

i do not have a thousand tongues. i have but one.  and it has been silent too long. well, not silent, but not singing like it should be.  i want my "loosened tongue employed." i had old classmates and coworkers visit.  i had daily texts and messages and phone calls from friends and church members who sit waaaaaay across the sanctuary, from those i haven't heard from in months or years, parents of Cubbies.  i got pretty flowers, snack foods to appease my stupid cravings, a soft blanket that finally allowed me to rest well.  daily prayers and posts let me know i wasn't as alone as i felt. i had good nurses.  i had understanding doctors who admitted how strange the situation was, which alone indicates that God had some purpose in me being there. all this from Jesus, who put every one of those people in my life.  the same Jesus who saved Samson and those silly, rebellious Israelites remained ever faithful.

if there is a single person who read my facebook posts or texts and attributed any, ANY, of the pain relief, comfort, love, grace, retreat of the disgusting abscess of monstrous proportions,  increased tolerance of these horribly potent antibiotics--

if for one moment someone thanks the Fates, luck, some unknown Force- for ANY of that, then my tongue has failed.  my single hope is that your tongue will join mine, and that many more will join in.  if there are a thousand people, then there are hundreds of thousands of reasons to sing.  we may be out of tune.  we may not have the gusto that our choir did. we may not even know most of the reasons to sing, but we know enough of them.

Jesus told the religious elite that if His people didn't shout and sing His praise then the rocks themselves would rise up and proclaim His worth.

o, for 999 to join me in song, to silence the rocks and drink deeply from the Spring that appeases all who call upon Him, no matter how thirsty or desperate!