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.

surprised by mercy

You have never disappointed me.

The words rang through the phone receiver and melted my fears calming my soul. She spoke those words right after I had delivered some news that would disappoint many. Did she know that 22 years later they would define our relationship and continue to echo?

Her name, Zelda Bernice, means Woman Warrior Brings Victory. She looked like anything but a warrior. Mess with any of her family and you would quickly find out. Her eyes twinkled mischief. Many times I ran to her when the world caved in and I needed comfort. As the first-born grandchild, I named her Momice perfectly combining Mama and Bernice.

If mercy means to be freed from the consequences of sin, she showed me mercy and love. Over and over and over. Her home offered a haven from the war between my parents. She only lived a mile or so from us. Beulah, the bus-driver, would often ask me “your house or your grandmother’s.” At her house, my favorite  after-school snack was melted cheese. She sliced it thick and placed it on a cookie sheet. Then popped it in the oven long enough for it to melt a little. We ate it with a spoon. 

When disappointment or hurt has marred a relationship, few will continue to pursue in love. The Love of Our Father pursues relentlessly, always standing looking toward the horizon for us to return to the Shepherd of Our Souls. She showed me this on human terms. It’s how she lived. Her arms ready to receive, to wrap me up in love and mercy.

At 23 years old, I expected her to be hurt. I thought she would maybe lecture me. For sure, I assumed she would withdraw. Instead she said those words that will live with me my whole life.

You have never disappointed me. 

The Voice

This week a precious four year old came to my clinic, eyes and nose gushing water. Fever. Body aching. As I stood before him to get a nasopharyngeal swab for a flu test, he hauled off and kicked me like a bucking bronco. That wasn’t the worst part. He coughed effusively in my face. I wandered away with the swab thanking Jehovah I had a flu shot this year. 

Last night I felt the first effects of the love he had shared. Pins and needles inhabited the back of my throat. This morning I lay in bed like a sack of lead. Sam and I decided to watch church from home on live streaming. With a little IT help from J Mac Brown, I got her up and running. 

Sam pointed to Bill Wellons on the computer monitor and said, “I remember when he wore his jeans inside out.” What would Bill have for us this morning from the Word? We have been snailing our way through Luke’s gospel. Chapter 23 finds us back with Pilate. And true to form, Bill had a basin set up and kept washing his hands like he suffered from OCD. 

As he dried his hands, he uttered the point that kind of stuck in my heart. What we do reveals who we listen to. Voices swirl in my head. Just this morning, I had spun out down a bunny trail of blogs on the “purity culture” in the evangelical church. Powerful words cracked open the elephant in the living room. 80% of us enter marriage as non-virgins. I must have had 5 or 6 tabs open reading through the stories. Despair threatened to grab my eyes from behind and pull me down. Even in the raw-honesty and self-disclosure fit for priests and not blogs, I could hear the contempt. One side pointed fingers as they labeled “unrepentant.” The other cast the villain as patriarchal shamers intent on seeing women in burkas before the end of the year. 

So many voices calling for attention and change. So many voices claiming to be right. I felt sad that we have shamed women who haven’t kept themselves pure for their marriage bed. I felt fear that some of the stories of these courageous women would blur the idea of chastity. 

I literally bounced from tab to tab to read as I watched Bill preach. Finally, The Voice called to me. Be still. Sam came over and climbed up in my lap. We snuggled below a furry soft blanket. And as Bill closed, he asked, “What is The Voice saying to you?” We ended by singing In Christ Alone. I raised my hand in worship. Sam emulated. I realized Sam had given me the perfect vision of what The Voice says to me. He lay back on my shoulder little arm raised to the sky. Peaceful. At Rest. Worshipful.

You are loved.

anxiety vs peace

Anxiety is a black cloud that hovers and blinds. A vague feeling of dread hangs over the victim's head. Fear courses through the body without knowledge of the exact identity of the feared object. By it's very nature, anxiety is the fear of something. Problem is we don't know what it is we fear.
In the full throes of anxiety, the hands feel clammy with sweat and the chest feels like an elephant is lounging there. Blood is shunted away from the pre-frontal cortex (higher reasoning brain) to allow the body to perform more basic survivor functions. People often believe they are having a heart attack and run for the nearest ER to hear "anxiety attack." The fact is, an anxiety attack feels a lot like a heart attack.
In this anxiety ridden state, connecting with God is nearly impossible. Not impossible, you see, but it is difficult. Calling for help is a wise move.
Yesterday I entered my quiet time in just such a state. I opened Jesus Calling and read: Take a moment and sit with me. Let My Love surround you and fill you. I replied, "Uhhm. Having some difficulty with that one." I knew God was near. I wanted to feel it. Yet I had great difficulty feeling His Presence given my level of anxiety.
I opened the Word to Psalm 73.
Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.
As I read these awe-inspiring words, God's Spirit excavated a song from somewhere deep in my soul. I learned the tune when I was eight years old. Every line of it came back to life in the black and white pages of my Bible.
The last line: The nearness of God is my good.
"When I tried to understand all this, it was oppressive to me till I entered the sanctuary of God; then I understood," says verse 16.
I didn't need to understand anymore because the Spirit of God communed with my spirit and peace flooded in.
Peace, the opposite of anxiety.