Post Category → faith

monday.

:: It’s the day after Easter, my first Easter away easterfrom home. It was also our first Easter all together (last year Ryan was here on business, and Jameson and I were back in Madrid.) I had fun setting our breakfast table the night before, Ryan loved setting Jameson’s basket where he’d be sure to find it, and Jameson loved finding it — and taking a bite out of every candy! Our morning celebration before church was definitely the highlight. I love my little family.

:: Easter Sunday is such a high point of the year. What a wonderful opportunity to focus on the simple yet profound gift of salvation, and the truth of redemption. And how awesome to share that meditation with believers. Yes, a favorite Sunday, for sure.

:: I’ve chipped away and made some headway on all of the chores that await me by the end of a weekend. Chipping is slow these days, but that’s okay. In between mopping here and cleaning there, I snuggled with Jameson on the couch, had a picnic with him on our picnic quilt, read a book while he keeping an eye on his outdoor expeditions, and am now watching Little Bear and having a snack with him. That’s the sort of productivity I enjoy most these days. And he, I think, enjoyed helping me splash dishwater do dishes, and thought it was especially fun to turn up the music and turn the mopping into a dance party.

:: Tomorrow I have my ultrasound. We’ll see who guessed closest to the right due date!

more thoughts on cheerfulness.

Have you read the post I’ve linked to over on the sidebar, On Cheerfulness? Well, please do — it’s well worth reading [and ht: Mom] — and then come right back over here. I have thoughts.

K. Ready?

I loved that post. That idea that cheerfulness is old-fashioned, and simply the sign of someone being fake — how prevalent is that? Having come of age in a Nirvana-steeped generation, I quickly became aware of the fact that real people only expressed “angst” (and how overplayed a word is that?). “Being real” was highly valued. Being able to clearly communicate your frustration with life was the key to being cool. Hating yourself, complaining about every situation, as well as, of course, sticking it to the Man — all hallmarks of the kid who was truly in touch with themselves.

How many times did my attempt at being positive get met with scoffs, rolled eyes, and a “stop being so fake”? Not too many times, I’m sure, before I started to keep such thoughts to myself — and started to think maybe that really was just fake. Unfounded optimism. Delusional idealism. Maybe I was lying to myself, lying to the world, lying even to God. After all, the freedom to be real was the most important proof that you had a genuine relationship with God, right?

But that just never totally sat right with me. And I realized two things.

First, venting about every inconvenience, using course language because that’s how you feel inside, and denouncing everyone as an idiot is not being real; it’s being base. It’s giving into the lowest impulse of human nature.

Second, those lowest impulses are not the only real things that I experience. In fact, none of the things I process from my finite, human perspective are the entire reality. There are two realities constantly occurring. The principle of my outward man decaying while my inner man grows stronger sheds some light on the subject. Throw a little already-not-yet in the mix, and you have a very good argument for why a faith-filled, thankful response to life is Real. Just because I choose to focus my response on the greater Reality of the Kingdom, rather than the base reality of my carnal, still-being-sanctified flesh, doesn’t make me fake.

Uncool, maybe, but not fake.

I am challenged again to take the path of courage, patience, and good conscience, and live in the light of His glorious Kingdom.

Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things. [— philippians 4:8]

psalm nineteen

“The heavens are telling of the glory of God; and their expanse is declaring the work of His hands. Day to day pours forth speech, and night to night reveals knowle
dge.”

Today, this very day, is pouring forth speech — bearing witness, declaring testimony, sharing stories — of the glory of God.

Listen closely, soul. Watch carefully. See that raindrop? The sun breaking through that cloud? The thirsty earth, responding to heaven’s refreshment, soaking it all in? Listen; there’s a story of glory being told.

church.

This has been an unusual Sunday.

Yesterday our car broke down two towns away. Ryan and Jameson had gone to the Goodwill drop-off (we’d spent the day cleaning and tossing), and just short of their destination, the van quit. I’m just really glad it happened with Ryan, and not with me.

So, with no car, getting to our church posed a bit of a problem. Or, rather, an impossibility. We were so bummed! Fortunately, though, there are several church option within walking distance. After getting dressed up in our Sunday best, we put Jameson in his stroller and headed off to a church we’ve wanted to visit since moving here. The style of worship isn’t our favorite, and there are several foundational things we disagree on — which is why it was never “in the running” — but we’ve heard great things about the pastor.

Soaring ceilings, massive wooden beams, beautiful stained glass windows: I understand why my mother wishes for such things on Sunday morning. If you’re lucky enough to attach only positive implications to such surroundings, then you may find it beautiful and deeply worshipful.

We weren’t sure of what to expect. How much not our style would this end up being? Would the sermon even be something we could agree with? Looking around: How many of these people do we suppose are saved? (Go ahead, criticize my smallness of thought.)

Well, the songs were good, but calling it contemporary worship is a stretch. (Think Vineyard crossed with sit-kneel-stand-repeatafterme.) The announcements were… impressive (testimonies of millions raised come to mind), but canned. The baby on my lap was… squirming and starting to make a bit too much noise, so we quickly vacated the premises. Ryan would have to fill me in on the sermon.

And fill me in he did — with tears in his eyes. Some of the best preaching he’s heard, he said. Deeply, deeply moving. What stories! what transparency! what insight! How amazing, we said, as we walked away amidst the stream of church-goers that floods little Menlo Park two times every Sunday — how amazing that such an amazingly influential cross-section of this amazingly influential area are our brothers and sisters. Maybe it’s not where we’ll commit ourselves, and maybe there are things we don’t quite understand, and maybe there are things we completely disagree with — but still. There is life and growth and Kingdom perspective happening right down the road. And that’s awesome to know.

I have to agree: I like church.

two thousand and eight.

We’re back home in California. We woke up Tuesday morning to quite the snowstorm — and quite the nasty drive to the Ottawa airport. 3,000 miles later, we’ve left the snow far, far behind. Yesterday afternoon I drifted to sleep while listening to the whir of the neighbor’s weed whacker.

Yes, I said weed whacker. Because not only is there no snow here, the grass is still growing. In fact, as I inspected our little garden, I discovered buds. Wow.

*****

Somewhere in the tasks of laundry and packing, and the hassle of flying (because of course it was a hassle…), an old year ended and new one began. New years have always been a favorite opportunity to reevaluate, re-prioritize, and reorganize my life. This year I’ll confess: I’m lacking the motivation and inspiration. Starting a new year here, having just landed from a wonderful trip back home, is a bit anticlimactic. And I’m feeling more than a bit homesick.

So I find myself in a different place than most years. Instead of enthusiastically scribbling lists of goals, tackling closets of chaos, and overhauling my daily routines, I am lifting my eyes and asking to be renewed. Refreshed. Revived.

I am remembering that He has called me — called me to great things, yes, but also called me to Himself. I am also remembering that more than once I’ve said, “Lord, I will follow You anywhere — only let Your presence go with me.” And I’m remembering that California counts as an “anywhere,” and that His presence is with me.

I still hope to get to all of that usual January stuff. But for now, on this rainy afternoon, as my sweet little man plays at my feet, I’ll be content to let Him satisfy me.