This has been a wearisome week. Ever have one of those?
Heaviness and frustrations seemed to just rest over me day after day after day. I wrestled again with issues that I'd hoped to be long past. I staggered out of bed after another too-short night of sleep and stumbled toward the kitchen to pack lunches and start dinner so it could cook in the crock pot all day. My daily commute chat with Ryan rehashed the same conversation from the day before...what we would do if our house sold at this time or that one.
Tuesday night, while Ryan painted the trim added to our house after the plumbers came through and replaced all the lines a few weeks ago, I hunkered down on the couch and caught up on all sorts of things I was behind on...with my blog, with email, with pictures, with Facebook. A virtual housecleaning of sorts.
And it was in that space that the first picture popped into my Facebook feed.
This gorgeous double rainbow had appeared in the sky...and before long, all my friends were posting their versions of catching a glimpse of this reminder of God's promise.
I practically threw my laptop across the couch and dashed out the front door to search the sky for the beauty. I needed it.
And it was gone.
Not a trace.
I came back inside and slumped onto the couch, scrolling through more versions and angles of the rainbow, and the thought crossed my mind, I needed a promise tonight just as much as they did. Why do I always feel left out of the promise?
And just as quickly as those thoughts formed in my brain, God gently reminded me, The promise is there even if you don't see it.
It's there. It's no less real and certainly no less valid just because I didn't get to witness it in that moment.
And so it is for my world. I don't have a clue what's happening in our foreseeable future, but that doesn't mean God isn't working on it. That doesn't mean He's not making good on details of the good He has promised to us.
Maybe you're kind of with me this week. Maybe you can't see the promise and you feel like maybe you missed it.
Cling to the truth that it is still there. Lean on the proof you see in the lives of others.
He's there. He's working. And He won't fail on His promises.
I caught Anne Graham Lotz's recent conversation with Susie Larson on Susie's radio show. These two women know the Word of God and possess a deeply-rooted faith in Christ, which I was reminded of as they discussed the return of Jesus. The best preacher in the Graham family (as Billy Graham refers to his daughter) stated -- humbly, yet with firm conviction -- that she believes Jesus is returning during her lifetime.
Do you know what my unedited, honest, first response was when I heard Anne say that?
FEAR.
Fear?! What is that about?
I'm a beloved daughter of Jesus, saved by His blood, and possessing a secure heavenly future -- which is what made my fearful reaction so surprising. So what am I scared of...besides the air traffic chaos caused by millions of believers rocketing skyward at the same time, and then tracking down my family among the billions of heavenly residents? (Be honest. You've thought about these things too.) But they're really not what concern me, though I have pondered the logistics. After prayerful consideration, I believe my newly-surfaced fear reveals two things:
1. Roots of trusting in works instead of grace are still alive in me.
2. I've been lax, even uncaring about the salvation of people I deeply love.
It's easy to slide back into trying to save yourself, and the servant life of a follower of Jesus can make you ripe for shifting your righteousness from something that is entirely out of your control and too-good-to-be-true (though it is!)-- the gift of salvation paid for by Jesus' death -- to something that feels like the proper payment for being forgiven and made once-and-for-all clean: good, kind actions.
Why/how are the roots of work still alive in me? I think because I've been so focused (dare I even say obsessed) on my own spiritual transformation -- which God wants for me and so do I -- and not focused first on Jesus, Who He is, why He had to die for us (sin is an ugly, ugly poison), and ALL that His death and resurrection accomplished for us.
This doesn't mean that I have to DO more reading and praying and meditating and.... Absolutely not! I simply need to return to living the One Thing of the Greatest Commandment: loving God with all that's in my heart, soul, mind and strength each day. Sounds like a big task, doesn't it? But it's not...a task, that is, but a way of living. I know that. So how did I drift away from the mooring that will:
Keep me rooted in grace?
Fuel my love and compassion for others?
That is the question that needs answering. Which I'll do...on my next Mid-Morning blog!
Several years ago, I watched the Matthew film, starring Bruce Marchiano as Jesus. It absolutely transformed the way I related to Jesus...because for the first time ever, I saw Him as a Jesus of joy.
After I watched the movie, I read the book Bruce wrote about his experience in learning Jesus...how he studied the Scriptures and learned as he read just how filled with unabashed joy Jesus really was.
Amazing how when you read about a joyful Jesus...you see how true it is. He loved life. He loved people. And he loved the Father.
***
This week I went to the Marion Easter Pageant...a community passion play down in Marion. I was in it for the first time when I was two...and I was in it ever year after that until my mid-twenties, when they had to stop holding it, because the building where it was presented was condemned. This year it came back, and for the first time, I was not in it.
I sat in my seat and watched the drama unfold...and a young pastor from the community played the role of Jesus. {In that play they call it the Christus.} He was unlike any Christus I'd ever seen in over 20 years of being part of that play.
He was filled with joy. He rushed toward people and greeted them with massive hugs. He smiled broadly and swung children around and showed a joyful servant's heart.
It spoke to me so profoundly because I'd slipped away from absorbing the joy Jesus actually had for the people He served then...and the joy He has for me now.
Jesus is joy.
This is the week when we remember His sacrifice for us...when we remember the horror and the sorrow and the dark day...and those things do bear remembering and our deepest gratitude.
But that Jesus of joy is the one who emerged from the tomb early that Sunday morning.
Jesus is joy. What if we lived for Him with that same joy?
I didn't read Todd Burpo's Heaven is for Realbefore interviewing him for Mid-Morning (though I was familiar with the bottom-line basics of thestory); but I did preview the film, releasing on April 16th, that's based on the book.
Todd seemed to enjoy the conversation as much as I did. He was a good sport when I asked him to come clean and tell us which movie events were real (happening in the flesh-and-blood Burpo family's life exactly as depicted in the film) or movie (never happening or kinda/sorta happening). He was uncensored while describing his anger toward God when Colton hovered near death, and gratefully awed by the amazing ways God is using Colton's heaven story to comfort, encourage, and bless dying children.
The real Colton Burpo in 2003 (four-years-old)
The movie Colton Burpo: Connor Corum
Fifteen-year-old Colton Burpo today
You know what I noticed about Colton's heavenly experience? He didn't mention any particulars about the place itself -- and heaven IS a real place. The Bible's description is of a forever home so stunningly beautiful, built with priceless materials, we can't even begin to imagine it. But what makes heaven, heaven, is that our God lives there -- and so do, and will, His children. All of them. No one who is God's is ever lost. In heaven, Colton met his great-grandfather, a man who died before Colton was born, and immediately knew him. He met the sister who had died in his mom's womb -- a sister his parents hadn't told him about, and immediately knew her.
Here's a startling fact Todd didn't mention during our interview, but it is in the movie. When Colton told his mom he was hugged and hugged by a sister who had died in utero (my words, not Colton's), Sonja Burpo asked Colton what her name was. Colton replied, "She doesn't have a name. You didn't give her one." Sonja is stunned because Colton is exactly right. She and Todd didn't name the baby because they never knew its sex!
Years ago I read a novella about what happens in heaven when a Christian is heading Home. I can't find my copy or recall the author's name, but the gist of the story focuses on the call that goes out throughout heaven to those who knew and loved the Christian who is dying. These saints hurry to the gates of heaven so theirs will be the first faces their beloved sees when they arrive; that is, right after Jesus throws His arms around them!
I hope that's true. If not, I know that His welcome Home party will be even more wonderful than my scenario. But just in case my imaginings are true, here's who will be waiting for me:
Papaw and Mamaw. They could have written the book on grandparenting!
My Uncle Jerry (left) and my mom (center). That's my dad on the right. Aren't he and my mom gorgeous?! Uncle Jerry died when he was just 33. I know that had he lived we would have been close. I was enamored with him. An interior designer for the University of Kentucky, he appreciated and loved many of the things that I do. I dream about him on a regular basis and still remember his laugh.
Doug's mom, Ginny, was one of my best friends. A single mom who loved her sons well, she called both of her daughters-in-law, daughters. She was relentless in hunting down morel mushrooms. I'd never tasted these delicacies until I met Doug.
As much as I love my mom, Uncle Jerry, Ginny and grandparents, the face I most want to see is Jesus. Colton Burpo has already seen Him. To Colton, He looks exactly like the Jesus painted by Akiane Kramarik.
Prince of Peace
Akiane and Colton's Jesus bears no resemblance to what a first century Jewish man living in Palestine would have looked like.
Composite of first-century Jewish male based on forensic archaeology.
Does Jesus show Himself differently when He chooses to reveal Himself to people in visions and in heavenly experiences? I don't know. Those are things that fall into the mysteries and wonders category. With those things, I'm willing to live in the tension of For now, I don't know. But of this I am certain: when I arrive in Heaven, I will know Jesus. Not simply recognizing Him, but experiencing the fullness of knowing Him that this life only hints at.
When my life work is ended,
and I cross the swelling tide,
When the bright and glorious morning I shall see,
I shall know my Redeemer when I reach the other side,
Ever since I started my job here at WBCL in 2011, I've been in house-hunting mode. For the year and a half that I worked here before I got married, I went house hunting about once a month with a realtor - trying to get a feel for what part of town I liked...what kind of house I wanted...and all the while, I couldn't move, because my house in Marion never sold.
After I got married, Ryan and I became frequent visitors to the realtor.com website - revising the list of what we wanted and trying not to fall in love with houses, knowing that if we ever got to move, anything on the market now probably wouldn't be on the market then.
Our list was not grandiose, but we wanted a step up from what we had. More garage space. A bigger closet in the master. Double sinks in a bathroom. A MUCH bigger kitchen. Open floor plan. Fireplace would be nice. {You get the idea.}
And somewhere in the middle of all that, I encountered tiny houses. Is anyone else as in love with those things as I am? Tiny little garden shed looking buildings that actually house people...and more than that...house them well.
The thing that fascinates me so much is the fabulous use of space in these buildings. Literally each cranny in the place has a purpose. They're small, but they're mighty.
I can't confess to being ready to move into a tiny house...but I love the mentality of less being more. I love it that the people who move in, some out of choice and some out of necessity, find in the end that life is happier in the tiny house. Things are manageable. The clutter is minimal. The cleaning is quick. And there's that much more time for living.
Ryan and I have adjusted our house list. It doesn't matter so much to us anymore if we find a bigger house or a place with a huge kitchen. we're learning to rest in what we have and appreciate it for its quirks.
We're also learning to adjust our view of life as a whole in that same way. To savor things like dates at home and day trips to state parks. Tall coffees instead of grande. {GASP.}
It's not wrong to dream big, but for us, the permission to dream small has freed us from expectations to overload ourselves.
For us, less really is more. And I'm so enjoying the learning curve.
