The Ungodly One.

I am a sinner. I am one of the selfish, prideful ones.

Had I been there, the day of Christ's Crucifixion, I would've been one of the ignorant by-standers yelling "crucify Him!" 

I was one of those wicked ones yelling for the sinless One, to die. 

I can't claim much as being just me. But this I can claim for myself, I am one of the chief sinners. 

I am one of the ungodly.

I am a stubborn, habitual sinner. 

The perfect lamb of God suffered unimaginable horrors. He was beaten, mocked, despised. His body of flesh was destroyed as He hung on the cross, gasping for air. His Spirit was alone, separated from His Father because of the world's sin placed on Him. 

Christ did this for the ungodly. For the wretched sinners. For the ones who, by all standards couldn't be salvaged.  

I nod my head, raising my hands above my head. I step forward. That's me. 

Yes. I'm guilty.

I am undone.

I am confronted with the stark reality of my unworthiness. All my ugly sin is all I can carry to the foot of the cross. And yet, He still says, "come." 

I see Christ's hands torn and bleeding, pierced by the thick nails. I sob out loud. 

He suffered and died, for my ungodliness. He suffered and died, for yours.

"For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person, though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die, but God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Since, therefore, we have now been justified by His blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God. For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of His Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by His life."
Romans 5:6-10

"Jesus did not die for our righteousness, but he died for our sins. He did not come to save us because we were worth the saving, but because we were utterly worthless, ruined, and undone. He came not to earth out of any reason that was in us, but solely and only out of reasons which he fetched from the depths of His own divine love.

"In due time Christ died for the ungodly." Fix your mind on that, and rest there. Let this one great, gracious, glorious fact lie in your spirit till it perfumes all your thoughts, and makes you rejoice even though you are without strength, seeing the Lord Jesus has become your strength and your song, yea, He has become your salvation. (Isaiah 12:2)"

~Charles Spurgeon "All of Grace"

What a glorious truth! That He died for me! Me. 

He knows I'm empty; He calls me to come and drink of Him, to be filled. He knows I come stained crimson with sin, but He says come to be washed whiter than snow. He knows I'm without wisdom, He says come ask Him for His wisdom. He knows all I can bring is my great need for Him, He says come and He will satisfy. 

"Since then we have a great High Priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. 

Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need."

Hebrews 4: 14-16

And Christ says to come to Him with confidence. Because He knows, and opens me to know, that I'm one of the ungodly. 

Praise God that, that's exactly who He died and rose again to save!

The ungodly one. 

Dusty Gold.

There is only room for One King on the throne of our heart.

One Savior. One Master. Only one Precious One.

Job 22: 24-26

If you lay gold in the dust, and gold of Ophir among the stones of the torrent bed, 

then the Almighty will be your gold and your precious silver. 

For then you will delight yourself in the Almighty and lift up your face to God.

I must lay my gold in the dust. Drop it in the dirt. Surrender it among the stones. The gold I hang onto so tight can take many different forms. It can be an old habit, or some part of my old nature raising it's ugly head. Or it can be something. Or it can be an idea of mine, or a desire of mine. Our ways always seem right in our own eyes, but it's God who judges the heart. 

But there is one thing that all my gold has in common: it's of this earth. 

When I lay it down in the dirt where it belongs I can see it for what it is. It's not gold at all! 

And when I stop looking at the dusty ground, then I can lift up my face to God. Then the Almighty will be my delight.

When I stop holding tight to the dusty things of this earth, then I can reach out and hold tight onto Christ. 

I desire Christ to be my most Precious Treasure.

I want Him to be the One King on my throne. 

The first day of 2014

The new year. It's here.

Half of me says, already?
The other half says, finally.

I love the feeling of a fresh, new, start. The confidence that comes from knowing that He who began a good work in me, is just and faithful to complete it.

I look back at this past year, chalk-full of so much. Like shelves packed tight with books. I'm glad we have a New Years Day. It makes me take a moment to pause, to remember, to look forward.

This last year looms full of mountain tops, valleys and plateaus where I was not on the mountain or in the valley. It's full of things I never thought would happen. Mistakes I never thought I'd make, victories I never thought I'd have.
Through all the ups and downs, all my inconsistency, my doubts, my expectations there is One who has been faithful.

Christ.

He's the grace that's held my last year together. Looking to this new year I expect to see even more of His abundant grace.

My hope for this new year; my heart's desire, is to earnestly seek and truly know my Lord, my Savior and His grace, like I never have before. I want the nearness, the close intimacy that comes when we draw near to HIM and He draws near to us.

While I don't have a list of resolutions, I do have a few things I hope to do with regularity in the new year. They are:

memorizing, writing, reading, praying, listening, loving, and breathing.

I need to memorize more of God's words! I can easily remember quotes from a movie or book, but my repertoire of God's living words is shamefully small. This needs to change.  

I need to write more! Much more than I did this last year. I'm starting with a goal of posting on this blog and our business blog once a week, on Monday. {clearly, I'm working over-time with this post.} And then I have dreams of a cookbook and possibly a novel. Probably neither of those will be completed with the close of 2014, but they most certainly won't be if I never work on them.

I want to be in God's word every day. I want to daily be renewed and transformed by words that come from the breath of God.
I also just want to read more books this year. I allowed myself dry times of little reading material last year. This was a mistake, {as it always is} I need the creativity of other writers to inspire and feed my own creativity as I write; I need to be inspired and challenged by tales, old and young.

I need to pray more. I need to pray constantly. Every moment of any day I can approach the throne of a perfect, Holy God, and I can talk with Him. It's an incredible gift! But often, I neglect it. I want set times of prayer throughout my day, like a monk who shapes his day around the bell that rings for prayer.

I need to listen more. I'm so quick to talk; to spout my ideas and opinions. In my haste to say something how often to I do I trample over someone else? If I'm honest, often.

I need to love with Christ's love. I so often love people with my love that is small, temperamental, selfish, and really not love at all. I need to love the way God loves me which is faithfully, abundantly, selflessly.

I need to take more moments to just breath. In. Out. I need to be still and know that He is God. I need to revel in His presence. His peace. I need to just breath. Breath deep, long, slow. Grab hold of the moments, don't let them just run by.

I pray that you reach out and grab hold of this new year; that you revel in its gifts, large and small. Most of all I pray that you taste, feel, and know GOD like you never have before.

HIS Will.

God's will. My will. HIS will. My will.

I can say, "not my will, but thine be done, Lord." I can say it with the best of them. I've said it most my life but what about living it?

I haven't lived His will. I've lived mine. I've stumbled ahead of God, thinking I knew better than He, what lay ahead.

I was reading in Ezekiel and these verses spoke loud and clear.

"And I will give them one heart, and a new spirit, I will put within them. I will remove the heart of stone from their flesh and give them a heart of flesh, that they may walk in my statutes and keep my rules and obey them. And they shall be my people and I will be their God. But as for those whose heart goes after their detestable things and their abominations, I will bring their deeds upon their own heads, declares the Lord God."
Ezekiel 11: 19-21

As I read the verses I knew that I wanted a heart of flesh, not one of stone. I asked God to replace my stone heart with one that is soft and alive. But I couldn't know just how soon He wanted to do that.

And oh, it hurts.

I've had a heart of stone, because then you don't hurt. You don't feel just how broken, messed-up and torn you are. The shards of yourself don't cut so deep when you're stone.

But when you're stone, you're not clay in the potter's hands.

When you're stone that doesn't feel, you're not living. You're just trying to survive on your own.

God has started cutting out that stone in me, replacing it with a warm, pulsing, living, moldable, hurting heart of flesh.

I'm bowed with grief over my hard heart. I'm terrified by my weaknesses. I'm terrified when I think about living surrendered and vulnerable to God's will that I can never see completely. My self wants to stay here, where it's safe with a stone heart that doesn't hurt. In my mind, I come up with all these good reasons to stay right here with stone inside me.

God will have to do this. He'll have to do it ALL.

And maybe that's why He's calling me to this loving, hurting, vulnerable, living with a soft, flesh heart inside. Because He knows I can't do it on my own. He's made me know that I can't do it on my own.

When I live stone-hearted and stubborn, I don't want God's will for my life.

I need God to give me the flesh heart that desires HIM and HIS WILL.

And so,

With HIS grace I will start fresh and new. I will live daily with a beating, flesh heart. I will be vulnerable and weak and afraid. But I will bind myself to CHRIST.

Constantly.

And then I can say; I can began to live:

HIS will. NOT, my will.

HIS will be done. HIS. My Savior who knows all. His will be done in me; through me. For His glory.

Amen.

Shelling peas and a hail storm.

It was Saturday. We were wearing white and black, selling our products at the Farmer’s market. It was a hot, humid day. Clouds hung low over our heads holding the warm air close. The sultry heat drove the customers away early. It was closing time and we were ready to get out of the warmth. We just carried the last boxes to the trailer when the first rain drops splashed the pavement. The wind burst, driving storm clouds over-head. We rushed to help our neighbors pack up. Rain came harder. Pounding in sheets Wind blew fierce. Canopies toppled. Venders scrambled to save their wares. The road was a river of water churning up past our ankles. We were all soaked and struggling to hurry weighed down as we were with rainwater. Then the hail stones came. Solid ice the size of quarters beat down on everything and everyone. Stunned, we tried to keep moving, to keep hauling things to safety. Bags of vegetables, framed pictures, strings of jewelry, and beeswax candles, all of it needed stowed in the vender’s cars. Somewhere under the cover of a building, street musicians played on through the storm. It made me think of the sinking of the RMS Titanic.

Clouds moved letting sun stream through the rain. We smiled at each other through the wet. We were able to help all who needed it. We splashed in the water that reached our knees. We were so thankful. God had sheltered us in the midst of the storm. On a typical Saturday, we usually wouldn’t be packed up so soon. But this time we had every piece packed safely in the trailer before a drop of rain hit. And then He allowed us to help all the other venders caught in the storm. Stories of God’s protection and thankful hugs were sweet gifts to take home with us.

Days after the storm, it was time to harvest the shelling peas. The pea plants were bruised and bent from the storm. Their shells scarred from hail stones.

 

But beneath the damaged shells there hid perfect rows of tender, bright green peas. Breaking the shell open, I slid my finger along the tight row. One by one the peas break off and tumble into the large bowl.

 

It struck me. The storm, like the damaged pea shells, had concealed bright, tender gifts.

How often does God send us gifts wrapped in hail-damaged shells? These gifts take unwrapping to really see all they hold.

I don’t think I’ll ever look at a hail-damaged pea shell quite the same.

 

 

The beautiful ugliness.

Beautiful ugliness.

Do you know what beautiful ugliness looks like? I thought I did. I thought I knew how to look at the awful, broken, and disgusting, to see beauty.

But what about the times when the ugliness spills out of me? Out of you?

Often I feel this happens to me. The pressure, the stress and strain, some of it real, some of it created in my own mind, born of paranoia and fear, comes crashing through my being. Instead of leaving to rest in the arms of my Savior, my stubborn sinful side takes charge. I lash out in anger. I hurt people. I say things I know are not true.

A day not too long ago, all this was poignantly true. In the beginning of the day my eyes were anywhere but on Christ. The "to-do's" crowded in. The pressure of meeting deadlines took precedence in my mind over the far more important care of the eternal souls living around me every day.

And then it all crashed in.

My foundation of sand crumbling. But instead of fighting the tide of sinful nature that comes over me so strong, I succumbed. I gave in to the anger. The selfishness. The pride. I said things I knew were not true.

It all came gushing out. All that ugliness inside of  me that I like to turn away from. It sat crumpled in a heap right in front of me. As I sat looking at it, grief for my sin and anger at myself for not living in Christ welled up. And I wept.

I wept and I pleaded forgiveness. They all forgave me. Those around me who I hurt forgave me in love. My Savior forgave me all and washed me clean. I live in constant awe of the miracle of forgiveness demonstrated in me and around me every single day.

I was broken. Seeing yourself as you really are when you try to do it on your own, is bleak and frightening. But the day was not over yet. Loose ends had to be gathered so that things could be accomplished. I should have already left. A dear friend of ours dropped by as I was trying to pack the stray things I needed. This white-haired friend is dear to me because she's a follower of Jesus Christ and she's truthful. She's so honest with herself, honest with me, and her eye's beg me to be honest with her.

I tried to avoid the honesty. I felt the tears would come fresh if I didn't. I backed out of our driveway, Mary in the car with me, I didn't pause to look. There was terrible screech of grinding metal. I stopped. And I think my heart stopped too. I pulled forward and got out. A crater of a dent starred at me from the side of her car. I felt my insides crumble. I can't believe...

And then a struggle. Should I just leave? Maybe she wouldn't notice the crater? But I knew. I couldn't just leave. I couldn't run away from my mistake. I walked back inside. The words choked my throat and the hot tears came all over again. Her first words were: "are you both alright?" And then she enveloped me in tenderness. Hugging me as I sobbed and choked on my pitiful, "I'm sorry." She didn't even go out to see the damage. She just forgave, loving me and giving me grace I didn't deserve.

I'll never forget how she gave me 'grace.' She gave it like Christ gives it. Freely, abundantly, holding nothing back and asking nothing in return. One day, I pray that I can be the white-haired lady giving grace to the one choking out "I'm sorry."

That night as I lay in the darkness of my room my eyes red from tears; my body tired, I thanked God for such an awful wonderful, beautiful ugly day. At my core I was truly thankful. What if I never had to face the angry, selfish part of me? That part, I wish wasn't there. What if it hadn't spilled out, forcing me to take in its ugliness. If the heat and the fire don't bring the dross to the surface, how will the gold ever be fine?

The fire hurts, and I have thick dross that needs burning. But, I praise God He loves me enough to bring the refining fire.

And that is what the 'beautiful' looks like in the midst of my ugly.

Glory.

Psalm 72:19

Blessed be His glorious name forever;
may the whole earth be filled with
His glory!

Amen and Amen!

 

Today, I've been thinking about God's glory. What it looks like; where I see it. I find that the whole earth really is filled with His glory!

 

I see it in the Spring rain filling the sky with grey tempest, pelting our green fields with wet. I see His glory in a smile, warm and genuine. Glory in reconciliation. Glory in pain that opens our hearts for healing. God's glory in the celebration of His Resurrection. I see His glory in the expanse of stars that hang over me at night. I hear Him in the Psalms put to music. I read His glory in the pages of my Bible. I feel it in hug. In an 'I love you' softly spoken before bed. I find His glory in truth. Truthfulness with myself, with others, with God. His Glory in prayer, that time to be quiet and empty before Him so we can be filled. I see His glory in my weakness, my failures. I see His glory in our neediness, our dependence on Him for all things.

 

His glory is ever-present, all around us. We can be instruments of God's glory if we're surrendered to, and filled by, Him. And Him alone.

This is my desire.

 

Psalm 27:4

One thing I have asked of the Lord,
that will I seek after:

that I may dwell in the house of the
Lord
all the days of my life,
to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord
and to inquire in his temple.

Why Christmas?

Holy Trinity.

Three in one.

Father, Son; Holy Spirit.

Glory of Heaven.

The Son leaves the splendor,

the glory.

He comes to earth small;

insignificant.

Babe born of a Virgin's womb.

Born in a stable in a crowded little town.

The hay was soiled.

An incredible star shone above the stable.
Its light filled the land.
Mary struggles, strains
to bring this God baby to the waiting world.
White angels come to shepherds in a field.
The angels fill the sky.
Bright.
Their voices resound.
Echoing loud as they praise God.
Shepherds stand beneath the brimming sky.
Their mouths agape.
Their ragged cloths and beards swaying in chill breeze.
Three kings.
Dressed in deep red, gold; blue.
They watch the sky.
They know of a prophecy.
A prophesy written in ancient scrolls.
Of a king.
A messiah coming, for all mankind.
This star is made of three planets aligning in the Heavens.
This star means a king.
The kings travel.
They travel on camels over miles of desert.
They seek the King.
Mary's breathing regulates.
Her heart is full, overflowing as she looks at the baby in her arms.
Jesus.
He is here.
He is born.
The world need wait no longer.
The King, the Messiah is here.
For all mankind.


This is why we have Christmas.


 

  

Miracle.

I sit in a cold barn, in my pajamas, on a hard bale of straw. I am sobbing out my heart to the Lord. Choking on the words that come from my soul through my hoarse voice, uttered in the still of the big barn.

Goats chew softly, their hay. I cry out. Weak pleading. All the ugly that is my heart spills out through hot tears and prayer.

My God hears. He knows.

He knows.

No one knows so well as He the depths of this wayward, sinful heart of mine.

How easy I see the speck in another's eye. How can I see at all? Logs protrude from my eyes.

Our human eyes are prone to see the inconsistency in others. We don't look in the mirror often enough for our inconsistency to glare back at us.

My hot breath hitting the cold air turns to clouds of fog. Hot tears barely escape my lashes before they feel cold.

I sob out loud to my Lord. I ask Him to teach me how to love those around me without condition. I ask Him to teach me how to live joy; how to live in the Spirit not in the flesh.

I hold out my heart, a throbbing, bloody mess. I ask my Savior to take it, renew it, make it new. Fashioning the ugly broken, into something God-glorifying.

He takes this filth I hand Him. He knows the dark depths of my soul.

But.

He loves me still.

This is a miracle.

After the hot flood of tears; the surrender. My Father sends me a peace. A quiet stillness in my soul.

Later on, as I bustle to prepare something delicious for Mommy and family, who are feeling sick, Mommy thanks me for working with such a joyful spirit.

I am taken back.

I have a joyful spirit?

This is not me.

The joy, it is God.

God inside of me. God chiseling away at the ugly scab of my nature; growing inside of me His tender Spirit.

Philippians 1:6
And I am sure of this, that He who began a good work in you will bring it to comletion at the day of Jesus Christ.

Thankful.

      Dark clouds hover, thick; ominous. Rain pounds the saturated ground, creating puddles around the stiff cornstalks dying in the hibernating garden. Days come and they go, still the clouds bubble overhead sending rain down on our wet farm. Today breaks, clouds hurry out of the way as burning sun streams through. Golden light saturates our field. Illuminating every drop of rainwater. A million prisms are created in millions of rain drops. They capture gold sun, reflecting it in bright contrast to the heavy grey clouds that loiter around the horizon. Sun comes into our house, filling our windows with white light.

      Thankfulness streams into the dark of hearts, bringing warmth and light. On the eve of Thanksgiving, I am reminded that thankfulness is not something we exercise once a year. It’s a choice we make every day, every moment, every second.

     

      I think of Ann Voskamp’s  book, One Thousand Gifts. God used this little book to open the dark unthankful of my heart, exposing it to the light. If you haven’t read this book yet, you should. {Go here to order the book and read her inspired blog: http://onethousandgifts.com/ }

      The choice of thankfulness is not easy. It’s not what I  instinctively choose. It goes against the grain of our sinful nature. I say, “why, God?” not “Thank you, God.”

      The choice of thankfulness is a glorious one. When we open our hands to praise God, to receive everything from Him as a gift. Thanking Him for the good, the bad, the beautiful; the ugly. To stop saying why long enough to give thanks, opens the dark to let in the light. In His light is joy and peace.

Psalm 28: 7
The LORD is my strength and my shield; in him my heart trusts, and I am helped; my heart exults, and with my song I give thanks to Him.

      Thankful, starts in the small, the everyday. We train our eyes to see God’s hand at work in the tiny things, so that we can trust Him for the vast unknown.

My thankful starts in the everyday common.

 

Thank you for butter.
For rolling pins.
For sticky, flour-covered counters.
For baking pie crust, flakey and golden.
For soap bubbles.
For rain pouring.
For cold wind blowing.
For singing hymns with the family.
Thank you for my dear family who loves me when I’m the hardest to love.
Thank you Jesus Christ, my Savior, for your blood to wash me.
Thank you Jesus for your love to a wretched sinner like me.

Psalm 107: 8-9
Let them thank the LORD for his steadfast love, for his wondrous works to the children of men! For He satisfies the longing soul, and the hungry soul he fills with good things.

Choose to live in the thankful.