Hope Given

Ok I wasn't planning on writing a blog post tonight; however, when I drink super caffeinated coffee at 5:00pm and no one can understand me anymore because my brain is going so fast, my mouth can't keep up..well then a blog post is definitely in order! 

"Therefore, remember that you, once [were] Gentiles in the flesh...having no hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near by the blood of Christ."  Ephesians 2:11a,12b-13

 ~~~~~

"Having no hope..."  Hope is a gift.  A gift we can only accept after we have been brought near by the blood of Christ.  I had never {seen} this verse before in its whole context.  How incredible, but very much like God, to withold hope until we had been redeemed. When I sit in my psychology class, and listen to the humanistic, mumbo-jumbo views on essentially coming to grips with yourself and finding an inner settledness from deep within {somewhere} it breaks my heart.  I have what the world is looking for.  HOPE  We as humans need something to live for.  In the secular world of psychology, they have come as far as identifying the basic human needs that Christ has instilled in every human; one being hope, another love, the third joy.  To actually close this circle, and {FEEL} these desires fufilled, the desire to hope for something better, the desire to love and feel love, the desire to feel joy and give joy, a person must be brought near by the blood of Christ.  Without the shedding of His blood on the cross, we would have nothing.  There would be no reason to hope because there would be no forgiveness of our sins.  Love would be null because we would not have had a bleeding demonstration of LOVE.  We would have no joy.  Why feel joy when there is no hope and no love?   

In Christ Jesus, hope is born.  Hope is actualized in trusting that HIS promises will hold true.  Do I trust, as Abraham did, that what He promises, He is {able} and WILLING to perform?  Hope is born during the times when we trust in blind obedience.  How can you rest in an unfulfilled promise except through hope?

~~~~~~

"But God, who is rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in trespasses, made us alive together with Christ..." Ephesians 2:4-5

I'll sing with what's left of me...

"I can't find the words to sing, come be my remedy."

How can it be that when we are so easily, so swiftly running forward, during that moment, we fall?  Its as if the fears, the doubts, the discouragements catch up and threaten to drown every inspiration, every dream, every joy, every hope.  This wave draws me to my knees, but even there, there is no relief. 

 This weekend, the waves washed through my heart.  Nothing left.. no energy to continue.  Not even energy to worship.  A wakeup call this afternoon came via the World Wide Web. {How HE loves us}  the title to a blog post by a person I barely know.  This post brought tears to my eyes.... 

The writer talked about waking up each morning and making a conscious point to put their faith in Jesus all over again.  *all over again*.  " We’ve cried and struggled our way through believing that Jesus will keep providing for us the way He has been faithful to do..."  And then, the glimmering diamond of truth, "He’s left little traces of hope along the way to keep us just encouraged enough to do it over again." How precious and sweet!  "He's left little traces of hope along the way to keep us just encouraged enough to do it all over again."  This is Jesus's way.  Sometimes, He comes and sweeps me up in His arms with an overwhelming gift that He has given to me, *just because He loves me.*  I know these gifts are {just because He loves me} gifts because they rarely serve any purpose except to make me feel a rush of love towards Him.  Often, this rush doesn't last, but I savor the gift because He gave it to me knowing that it wasn't a painful, hard to learn lesson that drew me to Him; just a huge pick-me-up.  

On the other hand, I think it is the little "traces of hope" that I miss, but together scream the faithfulness of Jesus.  I sigh, groping in the darkness, feel the bars that trap me in, and sit in the darkness; despairing.  But why?  I miss His everyday love.  The wave of a kind, gray haired stranger, the random email from a friend, the text message, the guy, who I assumed would slam the door in my face like the guy right before him did, doesn't  {standing back, he smiles and hauls open the huge doors that I can never seem to open without them slamming back closed on my shoulder}.  Are these the "traces of hope?"  Maybe.  They sure help.  A stray verse catches my eye.  The random blog post of a friend.  These are the "traces of hope" that bring those little rushes of energy that keep me going, keep reminding me of His faithfulness and LOVE.  

 This is part of faith.  Remembering, "He just knows us to the core of who we are, what we think, how we feel and what we want and need. He knows those things, He remembers them and He loves us in ways that reflect that." How beautiful!  To be reminded that He knows me to the core of who I am, {AND} loves me in a way that reflects that.... it is a lifeline. "He just knows the littlest things that no one else sees and He loves us in ways that speak to those secrets of our heart."  When I stop looking for the things that I {think} I want or need, and start looking at the gifts God HAS given me, I am so reminded that what I *think* I want, and what I really want are two very different things. {AND GOD ALREADY KNOWS THAT!}  He doesn't ride the roller coaster of emotions with me!  He doesn't think, "Oh, today Kristine wants to talk to this person, I'll have them talk to her."  {And tomorrow} "Now Kristine wants to go shopping and replenish her shabby closet.  No, He knows that talking to *that person* isn't going to bless her today, but this person will give her My love in the way that she'll see.  {Tomorrow}  I'll just let her walk around the mall for a while.. she'll come to her senses :)  He is steady. He loves me and {EXPRESSES THAT LOVE} even when I miss it all.  Sometimes being a Christian means training my mind to consciously {remember} His love, hope and faithfulness.  Finding this strength, I can sing with what is left of me...

 ~~~~~

sing it out
take what is left of me
and make it a melody

sing it out
sing out-loud
I can't find the words to sing
you'd be my remedy

My song
My song
I'll sing with what's left of me

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Flashbacks

~ A camera scans a small, African village.  Black skin glistens in the sun, mingling with the flashing of machetes and the shimmer of fresh blood.  Crying fills the air.  Bodies fall and are cut to pieces by men wielding the machetes.  The men watch this horrible scene, video taped just a few minutes before by a reporter.  Shock and repulsion pour from their mouths as they watch the Genocide of  Rwanda.  One man speaks up with a glimmer of hope in his voice, "How can people watch this and not help but do something to intervene?"  The reporter looks up with tears in his eyes and says this unforgettable statement. "I think that when people turn on their TVs and see this footage, they'll say, "Oh my, that's horrible," and then they'll go back to eating their dinners."'  ~

~ A little boy cries in frustration.  His father is lying in a hospital dying, and he can do nothing about it.  This summer was supposed to be perfect.  What little boy wouldn't want to spend a whole summer with a dad who lives on the beach?  But what little boy, who invested his {everything} heart, soul, love, time {everything} in being with his dad, would want to suddenly find out that his dad is about to die?  As this little boy cries, he works rapidly, alone, to finish the project he had started with his daddy.  If he can get this stained glass window done before his daddy dies, then they can put it back in the Church window, and he can make is dad proud.  Bumping around, breaking glass, he's too short to reach, to small to get anything.  He cries in frustration, anger, pain.~

~Stammering, stuttering, trying to grasp words that are just out of his reach, he stands before a judge, fighting for the custody of his only child.  Does it matter that this man has only the mental capacity of a 7 year old?  He has raised this little girl since the day she was born, now they want to take her away?~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

These "rising action" sections in movies call for tears.  The time right before the climax is where the anticipation is almost, almost as high as it can be, but not quite.  During this part in a movie, the characters have developed and usually throw out a witty, humorous, or tear-jerking comment.  Sometimes these lines are used to ease the tension and bring laughter.  Other times, they simply build the tension.  

Why do we love movies?  How can a simple line from a fictitious character that we have only met 1 hour before, and never spoken a word to in our whole life, cause us to well up in tears?  How can watching a genocide that happened 4 years after I was born create such a sense of rage and injustice?  Watching a little boy cry as his father lays in a hospital dying practically made me flood the theater with tears {although I was able to hold them back, much to the delight of those around me}  A man, no less deserving of his child than any other man, cannot keep her.  Why?  Why do we connect to a movie with a strong emotional bond?

Movies speak to every human being {with the exception of some moms =D }   They portray normal people, living normal lives, lives very similar to our own, yet we LOVE to watch them.  How interesting would it be to watch a movie about you?  Not very?  Now how about if only the highlights of your life were shown, music added to epic portions, the parts where you fought with your parents, and any time the sun set?  Now, it might be more interesting.  

We love movies, because they are flashes of real life, without having the "real life" part.  (I know I'm stretching it a bit, but just play with me here)  We never have to watch the kitchen being cleaned up, food being eaten, time taken to sleep, the arguments that are never resolved.. yet we get to see the big picture.  We can see how it ends.  In a movie, you are privy to the ending.  You can watch the subtle, underlying annoyances which are actually there to grow and develop the character without missing the point.  In real life, those pesky people, the people who never seem to want to do what you want, the ones who are always a hindrance, and sometimes {the ones you take for granted} are the people who truly shape you and press you to God.  While watching a movies, it is so easy to yell "Common stupid! Open your eyes... *that* guy likes you and he is totally the one you should marry... not the ditsy one with the flashy hair!"  Or, "Oh my gosh, that person is totally going to help them improve {whatever} because they are just so annoying!"  In real life, we have to live with that person day in and day out. Not quite the same experience. 

Now, this may be a stretch, but I think that movies are so attractive because we all want to see "how life's gonna end" and a movie gives us that chance.  We see how a situation or person influences and changes a person throughout an amount of time.  Sympathy, empathy and an underlying desire to see how life is going to end allows us to watch a movie with a beating heart.  

As Christians, we long for the end of the story.  Sometimes our very spirit groans, cries out for peace.  {For heaven}  The uselessness with living on earth overwhelms us.  What good am I doing living here?  I affect no one, I am affected by no one.  Heaven is where I belong, where I was created to be.  That is where the movie analogy comes in.  Our life, our movie, is short in God's eyes.  He see's perfectly what the ending will be.  He can sit and "watch the show."  Sometimes, we can look back, and suddenly and its an "oh..." moment.  I see.  I understand when I look back, why the things happened which did, the circumstances which were so painful, were meant for something more.  It will happen this way over and over during our lifetime.  We watch our own movie slowly.  

But for now, until the time when we can look back, our hearts cry out for the end of the story.

 "¹ For we know that if our earthly house, this tent, is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. ² For in this we groan, earnestly desiring to be clothed with our habitation which is from heaven... ⁴ For we who are in this tent groan, being burdened, not because we want to be unclothed, but further clothed, that mortality may be swallowed up by life. ⁵ Now He who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who also has given us the Spirit as a guarantee." 2 Cor 5:1-2,5

On The Joy of Suffering

Today in Church, we were reading through Acts 1-2.  The speaker was drawing parallels between the birth of the first Church and Old Testament prophesies and during this he threw out an interesting tidbit in Acts 1:8  "But you shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you shall be witnesses to Me.. to the end of the earth."  The first is this:  the word "power" comes from a base word that can also be translated as "dynamite." Secondly, "witness" is derived from a word that is translated "the one who dies for his faith" or a martyr. It is incredible that these words are paralleled for each other.  Christians, are in a sense, created to suffer.  From the birth of the first Church, until now, suffering and martyrs have been a key component in the life of a follower of Christ.  We suffer.  

But here is a key to the joy that a witness contains.  With the gift of the suffering, we have also been given the gift of "dynamite!"  Charged with power from the Holy Spirit, we can suffer with joy, we can "be witnesses to [Christ].. to the end of the earth."  Boldly proclaiming Christ because we have been empowered to do so.  

While in America, physical tribulation has not yet occurred, this does not mean that we no longer suffer.  When I chose to become a follower, I chose to submit myself to the painful process of perfecting in Christ.   I yielded my rights of the flesh and chose to be given a new {body+mind+soul}.  From that day forward, God began His perfect work in me, and trust me, at times it isn't pretty! 

Every year, every time I expect life to get better, it doesn't.  With each season, the battle between my old self and my redeemed spirit seems to rise.  Cross-roads, choices, decisions and goodbyes.  Who am I?  What do I believe?  What will I choose? 

This is all part of the process that I signed up for when I decided what my passion would be.  However, I missed the memo on suffering.  Who would have known that God is willing to bring me to the end, [like the fraying, dry rotted end] of my rope so that He can fully reveal Himself to me?  I would have never believed that I am stubborn enough to run to the end of the rope, jump, slip, suddenly grasping for dear life.... and then see His glory shine?  

Why must I suffer?  I think this quote from John Piper captures the point to suffering:

 "When everything in life is stripped away except God, and we trust Him more for it, this is gain and He is glorified."  This is the glory of the Christian. When He asks for everything, {everything} and still we trust Him to satisfy all of our human needs, all longings from our bleeding hearts, then He is glorified and we have just fulfilled the meaning of our very existence: Christ is glorified and we are satisfied. 

Easily said but not easily done. This winter on New Years Eve, a group of friends were having a time of worship and testimonies.  As the room filled with the first notes of "Blessed Be Your Name," and I was desperately trying to think of something good to say about how much I loved God, and how amazing my life was because of it (even though I knew deep down that at that time my life was not good and there was no way to twist or manipulate situations to make it look good and like everything was fine) suddenly, I was alone, in the dark and I knew that I was in the presence of the King.  The room was dark.  I could see nothing.  Kind of like how my life had been going.  I knew that Jesus must be leading my life, but I couldn't see Him.  Now, I stood in His throne room, in utter darkness and quiet, singing:

Blessed be Your name
When the sun's shining down on me
When the world's "all as it should be"
Blessed be You name
And blessed be Your name
On the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be Your name..." 

As I came to the lines "and blessed be Your name on the road marked with suffering, though there's pain in the offering.. blessed be Your name.." my heart poured out everything and gave it again as an offering of pain and suffering.  I laid that offering in the dark.  My heart bled and bled, knowing that He had already taken everything away and I was just re-affirming that I wanted it that way.  Worship poured from my soul and tears began their decent.  At that moment, I knew what my testimony would be.  Lousy as it sounded, I stood before my friends, with the taste of the bitter dregs of the cup of suffering still in my mouth, and I did not give a "one time Jesus taught me such-and-such and now I'm so happy" testimony.  Those who heard it probably did not know the depth from which it came, but it was my vow to God, that I would continue to bless His name.  He is faithful.  Even during the blackest, darkest summer, fall, and winter of my life, when I could not see purpose, order or good, when I could see nothing {darkness} I knew that He was faithful. Without a doubt, as blind as a legally blind person, I stood there and testified that, although I could not see why, when I couldn't even see God, I knew that He was there, simply because His promises are true.  I knew that He is faithful so therefore, I knew that He would one day show Himself strong.   "I cannot see, I do not understand.  Even still I know that He is faithful."  

Four months ago, that was as far as my heart could see.. I know that He is faithful.  Well, faithful for what?  Then yesterday, I came across these verses and they answered my question.  

"...The Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulations, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.  For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also abounds through Christ... and our hope for you is steadfast, because we know that as you are partakers of the sufferings, so also you will be partakers of the consolation."  

What a promise!  "You are partakers of the sufferings, so also you will be partakers of the consolation."  This was the end to my sentence "He is faithful... to be there during the suffering and then to comfort after the suffering."  Consolation=comfort and Jesus is the "God of all comforts."  Therefore, we who suffer by His hand, shall also be comforted by His hand.  In the suffering, we can find joy because we know that we will then partake in the consolation.  

~What wondrous love is this?~

Your Neighbor

Pictures speak a thousand words, and a thousand pictures tell a story.  This photo album tells a story about a girl, a girl whose smile brightens every picture.  She is still young. Innocent. Lovable.  Attractive in so many ways, but what is hidden behind that smile?  This story begins in the summer.  She stands barefoot against an old fence.  Her eyes sparkle and lips burst into an enchanting smile.  The late summer tan paired with a pair of old jeans and a t-shirt is the style worn when there isn't yet a care in the world.  The kind of fashion you wear when the world is still perfect.

{who is hidden behind that smile?}

A young treasure, innocent, unaware that the world is not our home.  Could this smile really ever feel pain?

Late summer evenings cool as the earth shifts.  Exploring train tracks, dancing in the leaves, playing with friends.  High school may be full of drama, but evenings like this wipe away any stains from the week.  Carefree soul.  Does anyone see?  Who knows what pain might be hidden inside?  The dazzling smile still brightens lives as she lives in the presence of God and feels His love.  For now, the pain is gone.

{Shoes, make-up, dresses, dancing}

Yet no mother to hold her hand.  No mother to show her how to put her make-up on.  "Where are you?!  Primping your own hair.  Your daughter is losing her way."   Her eyes sparkle in girlish anticipation.  Mascara and blush adorn her face as her face breaks into a breathtaking smile and she laughs.  For one night, she is a princess going to a ball.

Time passes and the leaves fall.  Laughter fills the air as the girls play in the crisp fall air.  "We're in high school now, but homework can wait."  They live in the moment, enjoying life one step at a time.

Children flock to her side.  Her eyes set them at ease.  She loves children.  This is a gift, a gift from God.

{girl nights, pillow fights, crazy photoshoots}

Some see life in black and white.  She takes the black and white and paints a picture.  Literally.   With ink or acrylics she captures life and puts it on a canvas.  Her eyes glitter and glimmer as she expresses her heart, in ink.  Another gift.  She is talented.

{dancing, laughing, music, raindrops}

Her life complicates.  He walks in.  He is charming. He is good looking and she wants love.  He loves her, he leads her and she follows.  Winter evenings playing with his friends and family.  Where is her daddy?  She wants a knight.  "Daddy! Your daughter needs you tonight!"

Missions trips with the Church.  Wiping dirty noses of little dark-skinned children in third world countries.  Pouring out her love to lost people.  She brings rays of sunshine with her smile and glimmers of hope with her eyes.  Yet who will be her sunshine?

As the years move forward, clouds gather.  Waves beat down on her.  The glamor and gaudy glitz of the world attracts her.. calls to her soul.  Her hands begin to slip from the Foundation.  She begins to let go, to sink into the dark waves around her.  Her boyfriend leaves.  He didn't need the love; she did.  Now she has the broken heart.  Yet she smiles.

{He calls to her.  He whispers, "You are My beloved."}

Still the album pages continue to turn.  No longer is she the innocent, unaware little girl.  A beautiful young woman smiles from the photograph.  Her smile is filled with laughter, yet behind her eyes is a cry for help.

{Sleepovers, scary movies, sister-hugs}

Summer comes again.  One year of high school left.  Can she make it?  Pretty, bubbly, vivacious.  Yet she is slipping, losing hope, letting go.
Senior homecoming.  Will he ask her to the dance?  Does she dare wait in a silence that may mean no?  With trembling hands, she picks up the phone to call.  Oh, she needs to be rescued, yet doesn't even know!  So many eyes lifted in judgment, but not one knee bent in prayer!  Oh Christians!  Why aren't we praying?  Who can save her now?  They watch with brazen eyes as she slips, lets go.

{Homecoming dateless, girlfriend nights.  Study + study + study = graduation!}

She calls, she cries, she wants love.. yet pushes it away.  The pain is deep.  Who understands?  Who cares to understand?  Without a smile she cries.  Oh daddy!  Wake up! your daughter is losing her way.

{darkness, pain}

"Attention, attention" her heart screams!  "Somebody love me!  Somebody!  Anybody!"  Her cry grows deeper.. lower as she watches her arm open from the blade and blood rushing up.  Yet now, relief?  The pain is gone.  For now.
People look.  People wonder.  People turn away and say "What a shame."  What a shame!?  What a shame that there is not one steadfastly in prayer, crying out for her soul!  No one can save her now. Yet He will still be her Savior.  Still no one prays.

{graduation, parties, summer}

College away.  Party life begins.  A new way to drown her pain.  Alcohol.  Everything fades.  Church folks wag their heads and say, "What a shame, what a shame."  Why isn't the Church praying?  Where have the prayer warriors gone? 

Today, she sits bleary-eyed.  A far cry from the bright eyed, young girl in the first page.  A small smile moves across her lips yet ends with a sigh.  She wanted love, wanted to be rescued.  He rescued her, gave her a child, and left.  Is this how it is supposed to end?  Why aren't the Christians praying?

{"You shall love your neighbor as yourself... and do this, knowing the time, that now is high time to awake out of sleep!"  Romans 13:9b,11a}

This is Love

This quote from a popular Christian book stuck out to me, "I want to tell her about the love of God..."  It made me wonder what I would tell someone if I was to tell them about the love of God...  Here are a few thoughts that I jotted down...

~~~

                                                           

"If I was to tell someone about a characteristic of Jesus, I would tell them about His love. I would tell them that He is a BIG God; utterly deserving of pure, undivided worship, praise and adoration.  His praises should be flowing, pouring endlessly from our hearts and mouths.  And yet, they don't.   Instead, we go about our daily lives, seemingly oblivious that there is a God out there.  A God who created our very existence; and with the foreknowledge that His creation would turn and rebel.  Over and over and over.   We live in or comfortable homes, with our comfortable families, and the comfortable dog sleeping on the floor; while our comfortable neighbors lounge by the pool deck.  We live this life and dare to have the audacity to believe that we created it.  The irony is this: God, the creator, King and Holy One chose to create us with the full understanding that we would need a Savior.  He turned towards the earth that He created, listened to the rebelling of His creation, and sent His only Son so that His pitiful, mocking, scoffing creatures wouldn't have to bear the burden of their own sins.  And the irony?  While His Son hung on the cross by nails driven through His wrists, and as the weight of every murder, rape profanity, angry word, hateful thought, bitter feeling, theft, and every other sin ever committed was laid on Him, 

as He took the full penalty for our sins, 

as the gaze of God turned away and was replaced by His wrath, 

at that point, Jesus knew that today, we would still be sitting comfortably unaware of the price He paid for us.  

This is love.

A love so selfless, so pure, that even His...I have no word to fit..*overwhelming right to rule this world and make us all pay for each sin that we have ever committed*... was set aside so that His creation would be set free.  

This is love.

Do we not have an obligation, a pressing, driving obligation to share this love, to shout this love, to sing this love in the streets?  And in this silence, to breath this love, to bask in this love?  And to fall on our faces and pour out our hearts in worship; utter, unspeakable worship to the One who showed us this love?

"But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us."

Romans 5:8

Friends & Family

Winter In The Country

Winter In The Country

Sweet life! how lovely to be here

And feel the soft sea-laden breeze

Strike my flushed face, the spruce's fair

Free limbs to see, the lesser trees'

Bare hands to touch, the sparrow's cheep

To heed, and watch his nimble flight

Above the short brown grass asleep.

Love glorious in his friendly might,

Music that every heart could bless,

And thoughts of life serene, divine,

Beyond my power to express,

Crowd round this lifted heart of mine!

But oh! to leave this paradise

For the city's dirty basement room,

Where, beauty hidden from the eyes,

A table, bed, bureau, and broom

In corner set, two crippled chairs

All covered up with dust and grim

With hideousness and scars of years,

And gaslight burning weird and dim,

Will welcome me . . . And yet, and yet

This very wind, the winter birds

The glory of the soft sunset,

Come there to me in words.

~Claude McKay