mature: 40 words in 40 days

My team of Built2Last ladies won the tower building competition with that genius of architecture pictured above. Strange games: it's what we do at women's retreats! Women bring adorable bedding. We deck out in our cutest pj's. We get really cool gifts (Tervis tumblers).

Our theme is shepherding. There are fluffy white sheep (and a few black ones) everywhere. We are to disciple to maturity. I needed to be called to this. In my flow of abiding in the present moment, I resist buying trouble from tomorrow or even this afternoon. That's good but I can forget where I am going too. I needed to be reminded that God is growing me up. Hebrews says, "solid food is for the mature who because of practice have their senses trained to discern good and evil."

Oh! I can train my senses in conjunction with the Holy Spirit. Oh! I can learn to discern good and evil. My life has been marked by a destructive naïveté. Lately My Shepherd has been saying OPEN YOUR EYES. And GROW UP. This naïveté is not working for you anymore. It's not fruitful nor productive.

He is calling me not be sluggish in my thinking. He is calling me to crave righteousness and solid spiritual food.

He is calling me to mature.

unexpected: 40 words in 40 days

We sat around a bouquet of tulips each plate adorned with hearts. Matthew returned home for the night to get his car tags renewed. Rarely are we together, all five of us, around the table.

Someone suggested we make a video like the ones we had been watching on YouTube. The song Harlem Shake has become a video viral craze. All kinds of folks claim 30 second stardom by uploading their version. The template 15 seconds of calm followed by 15 seconds of bedlam.

How would we film it? What would we wear? How would we dance? All these and more became the topic of our Valentine’s dinner. Our family is not prone to performance - at least not on camera. And so it began and grew in momentum - this crazy idea to do something we have never done before.

We sketched out a rough picture board. Everyone found costumes. Sam found a fake cigar. And we were up and running. Twenty minutes later our debut is posted on Facebook. I dug out my YouTube passwords. Voila! We are on the air.

What makes this so amusing is the level of surprise. Never in 22 years of marriage have I seen Matt McMurray dance on camera. Never. He has danced - just plain danced - maybe 20 times. Why did he acquiesce to this strange phenomena? I have no idea.

Control freaks everywhere shriek at the mention of “unexpected.” Yet we humans crave it. This blows my mind about God: you can never predict what He’s going to do. Unless He’s promised it in His Word, you cannot know what He will do. Now if He has promised it, it’s as good as done.

Delight flows from the unexpected. What will God do next that will blow my mind? What areas in your life need His touch of the unexpected?

empty: 40 words in 40 days

I am finite. God is infinite. The incarnation means that God took on a body and agreed to live with the finitude of humanity. He willingly occupied a body with limits and boundaries.
Philippians 2:7 says that he emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant. He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.
Because he emptied Himself and died, I can share in his infinitude. To empty also means that he laid aside equality with God.
The God of the Universe emptied Himself and became a servant. If Lent is about creating a space for God to work, we have the example in Christ. As I ponder my finitude and the work of Christ this lenten season, gratitude floods my body. I am in awe of the work of Christ.

finitude: 40 words in 40 days

Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the lenten season.

Before I meet a friend at the Eucharist Service, I run to the mall for a few items. Nobody is working the Origins make-up counter. Across the aisle a man in a tailored black suit with shocking white hair and spectacular white teeth bids me hello. He attempts to help me but his expertise is Dior. I'm a bit below Dior. I say, "I've got more shopping to do. I'll come back. Maybe someone will be here by then."

"My name is Elliott," he says winning me over with his smile.

As I re-enter Dillard's like a beast of burden, Elliott spies me and together we work down the list. Last item: eyeliner. Elliott upsells me to Dior. He says, "You need a deep brown. I've got the perfect shade that is right in between a black and a brown. Come on over, I'll show you."

We stand at the Dior counter while he paints my eyelids. A forty-pound bag in my left hand, I hold my breath while he creates. Applying make-up requires close proximity. "Take a look. Is it black? Is it brown?" I gulp in fresh oxygen. I almost black out before I see the enchanting affects of the eyeliner.

I am reminded of my finitude.

I slip into the pew beside my friend. A moral dilemma ensues as I determine whether to dip the wafer or drink the cup. I've had a sore throat. I'm coughing a bit. If I cough and then drink, who will notice? Will the wine kill my germs? Is God's Spirit powerful enough to overcome a virus? I dip.

The priest looks me in the eye while rubbing his thumb in a carafe of ash. He says, "Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return. Repent and believe the gospel." He marks my forehead with a cross of ash, and I am marked for Christ. I walk among people with black-dusted foreheads.

Later I look in the mirror and notice the ash has crept into the wrinkles on my forehead in an unsightly river of black. The cross is somehow blurred.

Tonight I tuck my children in bed and look in the mirror to wash my face. The cross of ash is nothing but a smudge, and the eyeliner leaves smudges under my eyes. I recall the day - another day of unfolding grace.

I am reminded of my finitude.