spiritual fit

Sam sat still in the backseat eyes creased in mock concentration, bottom lip barely protruding. Usually he talks incessantly on the way to church asking questions and fighting with his brother. A long weekend of spelling review had sucked the energy from my fun-loving seven-year-old boy. 

You see Sam had bombed his spelling test. Sam’s teacher sent me an e-mail about it. Could we work on them over the weekend, she asked. She would re-test on Monday. 

Work we did. Several times a day we went through the nine words that gave Sam fits. More than one time-out kept us somewhat civil. Time-outs work for parents too. 

As I sat in church that morning, I knew I was in for some correction when Dr. Easley started off with this question: When did it become so easy to sin? The following 29 minutes exhorted me to repentance. Supernaturally, my spirit began to see how I had been throwing my own version of a fit not unlike Sam’s. 

What is the answer to a fit? To petulance? Rebellion? Is it to soften to the Good Hands attempting to mold you? I could see clearly that Sam’s resistance to review with me kept him from learning. I could not see as easily how my own rigidity and pride kept me from learning what God kept patiently putting before me. 

Sam aced his test on Monday. As I have slumped into the Everlasting Arms, God has mercifully received my spirit. The Potter’s Hands are always molding for my good, and they feel a lot more friendly when I soften to His love. 

receive mercy

Writing about mercy with Jenn Lebow on Mercy Mondays ended up on my highlight list for 2012. As I researched and read about mercy, it made me thirsty. Thirsty, that is, for mercy. 

Quickly I saw that my little Campus Crusade definition “to withhold a judgment deserved” did not do justice to this term. Perusing the Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament, I discovered that the Hebrew term for mercy also means womb. Hebrew is a language of few words, actually. Often the complex abstract words have literal meanings. As a lover of words, this delights me. And so I wrote a definition of mercy from my study of it:

Mercy is a woman. A woman with a womb. She is strong and tender. Her arms open wide to embrace and hold fragile, war-weary souls. She is not faint nor is she shy. Her strength in the face of fear and cavalier sin overwhelms the crudest sinner. Her ancient face is lined with furrows of kindness and gentleness. Goodness marks her days. As we fall into her embrace and burrow into her womb, life-giving blood courses through our souls. Sins  evaporate. Shame flees. Forgiveness triumphs.

Click to read more ...

22 years of marriage

The sunrise on our twenty-second anniversary of marriage took my breath away and sent me running outside with my camera (iPhone 5) in the twenty-eight-degree weather.  The scene unfolding before me reminded me of how God holds the universe together by his grace. It also reminds me how He has held us together for twenty-two years.

We have spent two days at a refuge spelunking the past year and eyeing the future with optimism and hope. Each year (almost) we have made it a priority to get away for our anniversary. This time affords us the opportunity to gather the blessings of the past year and to set some goals for the next one. After a few years this practice became habit and now it has become second nature.

We picked a verse for the next year. Hebrews 4:16 says, “Let us approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.” 

Click to read more ...

receive

Unbelieving mute Zechariah was a herald of Advent. In fact, he was the first one to be told of the imminent birth of the Messiah. He went into the Holy of Holies one of 20,000 some-odd priests, sonless, old, perhaps cynical. He came out with knowledge of the spiritual importance of his day but without words. 

In the past few days, I have felt the muteness of Zechariah. His unbelief rendered him mute. And I suppose my unbelief stopped my words for a while. My only policy regarding blogging is that I only write when I feel like I have something to say. When days go by or weeks, you can assume that I have nothing.

Who could add any words to the events in Connecticut? Now is a good time to be mute.

Click to read more ...

welcome

When you think of God, what expression does he wear?

The gospel says that He looks at us with a loving gaze of a Father and smiles as He sings over us.

The gospel of Luke tells us a story of a son who squandered his inheritance for fast living, drink and women. While in a pig pen eating the slop, he had a revelation. He decided to return home and live as a servant to his father. He reasoned that the servants of his father’s household lived a better life than he was at the present moment. So he set off on the long return trip home.

Did he practice his story all the way home? I have sinned. I won’t even live in the house... I’ll live with the servants. Daddy, I’m so hungry and so tired.

But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him. Luke 15:20.

Click to read more ...