…for Channel 2’s 7-day forecast tells me so!!
Look!! 70 degrees by next weekend! Woot!!
Oh, the weather outside is…
…delightful! I woke this morning to snow, just a light dusting and nothing close to what we had a couple of weeks ago. Its continued to fall all day, but the ground is too warm so it’s not accumulating on anything but porches, cars and woodpiles. It’s so beautiful! I was so fascinated and excited, I spent most of my day, not doing my research for my paper, as I planned (and should have been)… no, instead I was either staring out the windows watching it fall, or running around outside trying to take pictures of it, trying to capture it’s beauty in digital format.
Do you know how hard it is to get a decent picture of falling snow?? To actually capture those little, or sometimes big flakes falling from the sky in a way that truly represents the way it looks with your eyes? Nearly impossible, I tell you. But I got a few.
🙂 See, look!
Here are some pictures I took from two weeks ago when I got "snowed in". Seriously. I got a call from my boss about 7am-ish that morning and he said I didn’t have to go into work. He and our other boss still remember the nightmare of unexpected snow that Nashville got about four years ago, where six or seven inches fell in a very short time. They both spent between 5 and 8 hours trying to get home that day and aren’t interested in doing that again any time soon. They’d rather stay at home and miss a day of work; which means those of us who work for them got to stay home too. Yippee!
Nashville just isn’t made for snow. We aren’t equipped to handle it, and we usually have a layer of ice hidden beneath the snow –which is treacherous on our windy, hilly, narrow roads. Its just not a place made for this white stuff. — Anyway, I got a long weekend out of it, so I didn’t complain.
The view from the front.
My landlord’s back porch
View from my front porch
Little Sassy!
I always take a picture of this woodpile… I don’t know why
Tuft of grass in the front yard.
I know, I know. It was just last week I was whining about the cold weather, and begging for 80 degree temperatures. But I can’t help it. I’m such a kid when it comes to snow. I love it!!
I Heart This
|
Your Candy Heart Says "Cutie Pie" |
 You always seem to have a hot date, even though you never try to meet anyone. A total charmer, you have a natural appeal that keeps you in high demand. Your ideal Valentine’s Day date: multiple dates with multiple people Your flirting style: 100% natural What turns you off: serious relationship talks Why you’re hot: you’re totally addicting |
There Are No Orphans of God
Who here among us has not been broken
Who here among us is without guilt or pain
So oft’ abandoned by our transgressions
If such a thing as grace exists
Then grace was made for lives like this
Tonight I went to see a movie starring one of my favorite actresses. Judi Dench has been somewhat a hero of mine for a long time. I don’t know exactly what it is — her inner strength, perhaps, that shines through every performance, her wit, her talent, her striking beauty, especially at an age when many women just start falling apart, her class, her power to captivate no matter how small a role she’s playing… Perhaps all of it. I want to be like her when I grow up. Or at least look like her.
Notes on a Scandal gave me a different Judi Dench than I expected; one that disturbed me throughout the film, then left me speechless and in awe of her talent afterward. She plays a discomfiting, complex woman with exquisite deft and with incredibly unflinching humanity. Her character, Barbara, could easily have become a caricature of a crazy spinster, but never does. She is both frightening and at the same time intriguing. Just about the time you think you’ve got her figured out as the crusty spinster with a soft maternal inside, her behavior turns bizarre and alarming. Just as quickly, she returns to her matronly role, just long enough for you to believe her deviant behavior was an aberration, then she does it again. I’m telling you, disturbing.
I have a struggle with movies like this these days. Being a single-never-married woman in my early 40s, I walk a precarious path between becoming, if only in my own eyes, a truly pitiable old spinster, complete with cat and orthopedic shoes, or grabbing the first man that comes along and settling for a loveless, joyless marriage just so I won’t be alone. It takes a lot of strength, courage and tenacity to stay on the path I’m on and wait for God’s best. Any film delving into the life of a "spinster" delves into my own fears as well. Barbara’s struggle was with acute loneliness; the agony of a life without true intimacy and human touch. Its a struggle I am all too familiar with. I’ve felt that agony many times in my life. It drives many people to seek intimacy through sexual encounters, where ever and how ever they may come. Thank God it’s driven me into the arms of God, the arms of Jesus, my Beloved. He has met my deepest needs for intimacy, far better than any man could.
There are no strangers
There are no outcasts
There are no orphans of God
So many fallen, but hallelujah
There are no orphans of God
As I drove home tonight, I wept as I allowed my own fears of becoming a spinster to stand up and say their peace. I’ve spent most of my life shoving my feelings down, ignoring them, denying them or telling them to shut up rather than acknowledging them and letting them have a moment. I’m slowly learning that the only way to deal with my fear is to face it, let it speak, and then to look at Jesus and say, "now what? Help me." So that’s what I did tonight.
This song, Orphans of God, by Avalon began playing. I got their CD, Stand, yesterday and it’s been playing in my car ever since. I wish I could play the song for you here, or at least provide a link to an mp3 file you could listen to. It’s a powerful song I first heard at the Women of Faith conference in Charlotte last year. It’s especially meaningful to me because ever since my parents died in 2003 I’ve felt like an orphan. All my siblings are married with kids of their own. The only real family of my own I had were my parents. With them gone, I feel — well, family-less. I realize that in reality I’m not, but have you ever noticed that feelings just don’t give a damn about reality? They are what they are and they make no apologies and no concessions for anyone or anything, especially reality.
Come ye unwanted and find affection
Come all ye weary, come and lay down your head
Come ye unworthy, you are my brother
If such a thing as grace exists
Then grace was made for lives like this
As I’m listening to this song and pouring out my fears to God, He just wraps His arms around me and listens. Slowly, quietly I start realizing that the life I saw played out for the last two hours was a life without God. It was a life of desperation driven by our insatiable need for community and intimacy; a life that never responded to the daily brush of God’s Spirit upon her own. It’s what happens to each of us when we choose to ignore those soft, persistent caresses, the whispered "I love you"s. Eventually we stop noticing His touch, we stop hearing His whispers. It just becomes part of the background noise of our lives, while our pain and our lonliness takes centerstage.
Even those of us who are connected to God, who are followers of Jesus, devoted, faithful, even strong –even we can get so wrapped up in our pain that we don’t notice His touch and His whispers. I’ve been in such pain and depression, in such darkness in my own soul that I could not see my hand in front of my face. Sometimes my pain, and often times my fear, was so strong that God’s presence became just background noise. I could barely distinguish His caresses on my spirit from the searing pain in my heart. And His whispers were lost in the roar of agony. I remember one time, Easter Sunday 2004, finally wailing and screaming to Him, "NOW is the time! You said You would rescue me at the appointed time. Well, that time is NOW. I need you NOW. Come NOW. I cannot do this anymore. Come NOW!"
There are no strangers
There are no outcasts
There are no orphans of God
So many fallen, but hallelujah
There are no orphans of God
He came. With smoke in His nostrils and consuming fire shooting from His mouth, He came and rescued me. I’m not kidding. I saw it as clearly as if with my physical eyes. I saw it. He came roaring out of the heavens and scattered and routed my enemies — those accusing voices, the screaming fears, the blistering agony of abuse and loss — just as Psalm 18 describes. Then He knelt beside me and said, "I’m hear, baby. I’m here. We’ll get through this day." I was raw with pain, but I wasn’t alone. I never was. And I never will be. He walked with me through that day, and every day since. Including tonight, as my fear got in my face and I let it say its peace.
I think of some of the people I know who are in such pain. I think of the hurtful words I’ve read from people in terrible pain, striking out at those who caused their suffering, not even realizing how hurtful their words are. My heart aches for each person involved. There are followers of Jesus all over the world struggling to hear God’s whispers, unable to distinguish between the caresses of God and the searing pain of their own soul, in desperate need for God to come roaring out of heaven and scatter their enemies, who feed on them like vultures.
O blessed Father, look down upon us
We are Your children, we need Your love
We run before Your throne of mercy
And seek Your face to rise above
Our pain can lead us to believe we are orphans; that God has abandoned us and we are alone in our fight for justice, for peace. But sometimes feelings lie. They don’t tell the whole truth of what is happening.
God is already at work, fighting for us, scattering our enemies, putting right what went wrong. He longs to spread a healing balm on our wounds, and cradle us in His strong arms until our tears are spent and we finally find rest. But He won’t force Himself on anyone, even His Own.
There are no strangers
There are no outcasts
There are no orphans of God
So many fallen, but hallelujah
There are no orphans of God
I wish I could take away the pain I see written in all the words of so many hurting people! But I cannot. They cry out for justice and recompense, and they are ready to fight to get it. I don’t know that their actions will accomplish anything more than creating more hurt and pain, but I could be wrong. Only God knows these things. I only know I cannot give them what they long for. Only God can. All I can do is cry out to my Beloved, "NOW is the time! You said You would rescue Your people at the appointed time. Well, that time is NOW. They need you NOW. Come NOW!" And then watch Him act.
There are no strangers
There are no outcasts
There are no orphans of God
So many fallen, but hallelujah
There are no orphans of God
"Orphans of God" written by Twila LeBar and Joel Lindsey, sung by Avalon
Summer Dreamin’
Okay, I’m done. I’m over the fascination with cold weather and "seasons". I want my California weather back, please.
I am so stinkin’ cold it ain’t even funny. It hasn’t gotten above about 40 degrees in weeks. Weeks, people! How do people in the north do it??? How do they take the cold??
I am so not made for this. My feet are freezing. My hands are freezing. My whole body’s cold. And I’m inside, people! Inside!! Where the temperature is a balmy 68 degrees. While outside its freaking 31 29 degrees and dropping. But, oooo, we’re supposed to get a "great warm up" tomorrow, say the weather people. All the way up to 40 degrees. Woohoo.
Look, I don’t mean to sound like a whiner, but, well, I guess I got completely, perhaps even too acclimated when I lived in India. Because ever since, anything under 75 degrees is not comfortable to me. And anything under 68 is just plain cold. Anything below 55 is inhumane and unlivable.
Yeah, so India was six years ago… so what’s your point? I can’t help it if I never re-adjusted to American weather. And I did live in the Med for a year. That didn’t help the weather re-adjustment, either.
Speaking of the Med,
I want to be here, in this picture (perhaps even with this man…hmmm, yum!)!! Right here on this beach. I can’t believe that I actually long for a Cyprus beach, but I guess that’s what desperation does to me. Makes me long for places that I have very little happy memories of. Just so I can get out of the stinkin’ cold and finally feel warm.
Here’s another spot I’d love to be. Hawaii. Oh, please,
God, send me to Hawaii!! I can’t take the cold of Middle Tennessee anymore. I want to live on a warm sunny beach and play in the sand. All year long. I want 80 degree temperatures and the smell of summer rain. I want thunderstorms and warm breezes. I want summer, people! Summer!
But instead, I get to go out to the movies tonight in 20-something weather and cold, cold wind. I have to put on so many layers and wrap up so much just to be comfortable that I feel like Ralphie’s little brother in A Christmas Story: "I can’t put my arms down!"
I am so ready for summer.
Grace Defined — a.k.a. Drenched
For now we are looking in a mirror that gives only a dim (blurred)
reflection [of reality as in a riddle or enigma], but then [when perfection comes] we shall see in reality and face to face! Now I know in part (imperfectly), but then I shall know and understand fully and clearly, even in the same manner as I have been fully and clearly known and understood [by God]. — 1 Cor. 13:12
I think most people have the same problem I do when it comes to understanding grace. We don’t get it. It’s an enigma, a riddle. We just can’t seem to wrap our minds around it. We just know it is.
I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately, and realizing more and more just how lavishly God drenches me with His grace. And just how unworthy of it I am. I realized grace is so much more than the definition of "unmerited favor" I grew up hearing. That description was inadequate for me as a child, and it didn’t get any better as I grew up. I’m such a visual person. I needed a picture — or at least a word picture — to help me understand.
So I asked God for help. What I got, originally, was experience. God lavishing me with it, and then telling me, "that’s My Grace." Uh, okay. How do I put that into words??
Thank God He puts people wiser and more knowledgeable than me in my life! My counselor has a word picture that helped me finally understand what grace is. And then I stumbled across this web page that had the following definition, which puts that word picture into narrative form:
Protestants usually define grace as "God’s unmerited favor towards us in Christ". Though not incorrect, this definition is incomplete, for grace also includes the divine gifts which flow from this favor, such as our new life in Christ, God’s indwelling Presence and the ability to bear spiritual fruit.
Sacred Scripture says that grace is Jesus’ Incarnation (2 Corinthians 8:9), by which He took on our poor human nature in order to fill us with the "riches" of grace (Ephesians 1:6). Grace is more than mere divine favor, it is sufficient power in our weakness (2 Co 12:8), it strengthens us (Hebrews 13:9; 2 Timothy 2:1), enables us to stand firm (Romans 5:2; 1 Peter 5:12), and helps us in time of need (He 4:16).
The Bible also states that grace is manifold (1 Pt 4:10), that God lavishes "grace upon grace" on us in Jesus Christ (Jn 1:16; Eph 1:7), and that we can "grow in grace" (2 Pt 3:18). It even says that our words can give grace to those who hear them (Eph 4:29), for our edifying words can draw others to God.
Finally, grace is the Beatific Vision of the Trinity which we will enjoy for eternity when Our Lord returns (I Pt 1:13; Eph 2:7).
Barney’s word picture is essentially the same. He just takes less time to say it, and usually draws on the dry erase board as he talks. I guess he’s rubbed off on me, ’cause now I’m re-creating his drawings (or drawrings, if you’re British) in Illustrator. Perhaps we’ve taken this re-parenting thing too far….
Okay, back to the discussion. What I learned from Barney goes basically like this:
In Scripture we learn that God is Love. We can’t think of that description without thinking of Jesus. And we can’t think of Jesus without remembering the Cross, the ultimate demonstration of love. The Cross brings, or rather bought, our redemption from sin and death. Our redemption leads us into Abundant Life. All of that is Grace.
As grace begins to work in our lives we begin to grasp all we’ve been given, it brings us to our knees in humility and repentance. We realize we aren’t worthy of any of it. That brings us back to God. But it not only reconciles us to God, but gives us compassion and understanding for others, as grace opens our eyes to their brokenness, and to their beauty as God’s dearly loved children, Jesus’ beloved bride.
As with Hope, I think the modern Church, and especially our 20th century cultural Christianity, stripped grace of its complexity and grittiness. Not out of malice or deliberate deception, but rather out of ignorance. Grace isn’t soft and cuddly, or ethereal and fragile. It’s the robust, earthy, dynamic, powerful, tenacious, never-ending stuff of God. It can take on my ego, and take me down to my knees, then immediately oh-so-gently pick me up and lay me in the Father’s lap. It can tear apart my stubborn legalistic tendencies, then envelope and permeate my whole being. It’s where my 
capacity to forgive, to love, to have compassion comes from. Its what gives me the ability to weep and ache to the depths of my soul over the pain others experience. It opens my eyes to the humanity of the people around me, so that I no longer see a mean "monster" when I’m betrayed or hurt. Rather, I see a broken, hurting soul just as much in need of God’s forgiveness and redemption as me. Grace gives me God’s eyes to see the beauty and image of God in even the most irascible, unlovely person. I can’t do those things on my own. I have to have God’s grace to do it. And the more I embrace and own the grace God lavishes on me, the more grace I have to give to others. –Perhaps that’s what the Bible refers to as "growing in grace".
Me, I just call it being drenched.
Does that make sense?
What is Grace?
I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, and I’m wondering if anyone out there has an opinion.
What is grace, exactly?
When the Bible talks about grace, what is it talking about, what does it look like and how does it work?
What Scriptures helped you best get a picture of what it is?
I have some ideas, and I’ve been doing a study on this lately. But I want to know what others think. So if you have an opinion, please speak up. Comments are open 24/7 for your convenience. 🙂
UPDATE: I’ve written my definition of Grace in this post. Please check it out.
Defaming in the name of Christ?
May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you a spirit of unity among yourselves as you follow Christ Jesus, so that with one heart and mouth you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. — Romans 15:5-6
I came across a blog today that grieves and saddens me. I’ve seen its kind before. Someone, or a group of someones, hurt by the actions of a brother or sister in Christ, or a church staff, or a group within the church, puts up a blog to air their grievances and give others a chance to do the same in the comments section. Once or twice, these become a place where healing is the goal and bitterness does not go unchecked. But more often than not, these blogs end up as nothing more than a place of condemnation for the pastor or staff member at fault for the pain. It becomes a chance for anyone hurt by that person or group of people to defame them under the pretense of "telling their story." Sadly, the blog I found this morning is the latter kind.
I know the pain of emotional and spiritual injury at the hands of another, especially injury caused by a friend. Its sting carries venom powerful and deadly. Only the compassionate, gracious, all-consuming love of God can heal that kind of wound and restore health to the soul. Even then it leaves a scar.
Emotional/spiritual injury by a pastor can be worse. A friend of mine says that pastors are also a "dad" to their church. It’s not a role they want, or seek. Nor is it a role we consciously put upon them. Its just that we all naturally end up looking to our pastor to fill a father-like role in our lives; leading, guiding, counseling, loving, appreciating, paying attention to us, knowing us. We want to be known by our pastors, and recognized as valuable, valued and worthy of love. All the things we want from our fathers. When a pastor doesn’t live up to that expectation, unconscious or not, especially in a time of need, it feels like the worst kind of betrayal, that of a parent. If we’re already suffering from major "daddy issues", and most of us are, that betrayal can cut to the heart of who we are and devastate us.
When the injury is at the hands of a friend who’s also our pastor, the pain is unimaginable. This is what I found this morning. What grieves me most about it is that it involves people I know, respect, and love deeply. I discovered it because I keep getting multiple hits on this blog from people Googling the blog author’s name and finding it here, in a post from two years ago. As I read the ensuing comments, the vitriolic tone of many pierced my heart to its core. I knew there had been hurt, I lived through the experiences they described, but it didn’t occur to me that some six to ten years later people would still be carrying around such rancor over it all.
Forgiveness is the hardest thing on earth to do. Our souls long for retribution, for repayment for all the pain we’ve had to endure. I know. I’m the worst when it comes to forgiving. God has had to walk with me through each and every injury, sometimes carrying me, in order for my heart to finally let go and forgive.
It’s important to remember that forgiveness is a process. It’s a choice you make. And make. And make again. Until the hurt and anger lessens, your heart stops making an automatic left turn into dark places, and your thoughts stop running down avenues of revenge. It doesn’t happen overnight. And it often doesn’t even happen within a month. Depending on the level of pain inflicted and the measure of trust that had been placed in the person who hurt you, it could be years before forgiveness truly flourishes.
Matthew 18 spells out the steps Jesus expects us to take to resolve things when we are injured, the last step being to treat the offending brother as if he were an unbeliever if he refuses to listen to even the church’s rebuke. How many of us actually go through with these steps? How many times to we just give up and just walk away from the relationship when the hurt and anger grows too big for us to handle? I know I’m guilty. Its just easier to tell ourselves, and anyone else who’ll listen, how horrible the other person was and how grievously they wronged us, rather than to screw our courage to the sticking place, and go face-to-face with the other person for as long as it takes us to understand their side of the story. No, it’s easier to just cling to our own side and ignore the rest; to never confront the person in the presence of fair-minded witnesses, if we even confront them at all.
But what Matthew 18 never tells us to do is to air our grievances before the world; in the town square, or the main boulevard, or even in a city park. Yet here we are, blogs all over the virtual town square/boulevard known as the Internets, airing grievances of brother-in-Christ against brother-in-Christ. Defaming our brothers and sister in the name of Christ and claiming a Matthew 18 mandate to do so.
Yikes! No wonder so many reject the very idea of becoming a follower of Jesus. We eat our own.
"To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable, because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you." C.S. Lewis
Go ahead and be angry. You do well to be angry—but don’t use your anger as fuel for revenge. And don’t stay angry. Don’t go to bed angry. Don’t give the Devil that kind of foothold in your life… Make a clean break with all cutting, backbiting, profane talk. Be gentle with one another, sensitive. Forgive one another as quickly and thoroughly as God in Christ forgave you. — Eph 3:26-27,31-32
The Cost of Freedom
No matter what your personal opinion of the Iraq war, you gotta realize that this is the price we pay for the freedoms we enjoy; even the ones that let us vehemently disagree with our leaders and our military.
The amazing thing to me is that no matter what we say, even if we rail against what they are doing, our military will still fight, and die, so we will remain free. That is truly something to lauded.
Photo by the amazing Kat Bonson. All her memorial pictures can be found here. The organization that puts on these memorials in Santa Monica is called Arlington West.
NOTE: I do not put this up to rail against the war, or to make a statement for it. I am personally conflicted about it, and do not see a clear solution or easy answers anywhere.
Rather, I put this up as a salute to all the brave men and women who fought and died for the freedoms I enjoy. Whether it was in Iraq, Afghanistan, Vietnam, Korea, World War II, World War I, The Civil War, or the American Revolution, many, many people have given their lives so that I can live free. Free to pursue my particular dreams, to worship the God I want the way I want, to speak my mind on any matter I desire, to travel when and where I want…. I am blessed. We are blessed. Because they were/are willing to stand against tyranny and say, "not on my watch."