It's Sunday

Well, technically, it's Monday, but bear with me...

Our pastor played this video yesterday before his Easter message. And it hit me, as I watched the images before my eyes, that it wasn't always Sunday. There was a Friday too. And it must have been the longest weekend of the disciples' lives. Their Lord, crucified and buried. Where was their hope? Where was their joy? Where was the promised Messiah? The Lamb of God to take away the sins of the world?

I've been trying to put myself in the place of the disciples that Friday. Would I have trusted His Message? Remembered His words concerning His glorious return? And as much as I want to claim, as Peter did, that I would never disown my Lord, a part of me fears that I too would have run away from Christ that night in the garden. And the incredible part of that is, even when his closest friends, his very brothers, fell away, Christ still loved them and took their sins upon Himself. Not only their sins, but mine also.

And then, praise God, came Sunday. The Resurrection. Hope. Rejoicing. A promise fulfilled. The shout of a thousand voices singing

Christ is risen from the dead
We are one with him again
Come awake, come awake!
Come and rise up from the grave

Oh death! Where is your sting?
Oh hell! Where is your victory?
Oh Church! Come stand in the light!
The glory of God has defeated the night!

Christ is risen from the dead
Trampling over death by death
Come awake, come awake!
Come and rise up from the grave
Christ is risen from the dead
We are one with him again
Come awake, come awake!
Come and rise up from the grave

Rise up from the grave...

(Matt Maher)

It was Friday, but Sunday has come, and its promise remains and rings true for every man and woman and child. There are those who only know Friday...and they will never know otherwise unless someone tells them about Sunday.

10,000 Reasons for My Heart to Sing

This past Friday, I was tired. Really really tired. It had been a long week, and I wasn't going to have any time over the weekend to do my homework. Which means I was getting a little teensy-weensie bit, well, grumpy. I was home with the kids, and when I was trying to put the girls to bed, they all decided that they were hungry--again!--and they didn't want leftovers, and they didn't want apple slices, and they didn't want toast...they wanted hummus on a corn tortilla with melted cheese and a slice of ham. So I went to pull the hummus out of the fridge and the container slipped out of my hands and hummus fell all over the freshly-mopped floor. And I (almost) lost it. I was exhausted, overwhelmed thinking about all I needed to do. Saturday morning at 6 am I was carpooling a Suburban full of guys (and me) and their guns for an Airsoft event two hours away and I was behind in my reading for my lectures and I had two projects due and *sob* I just splattered hummus all over the floor. It was really time for me to throw a pity party for myself.

But of course, if I did that I wouldn't learn anything, now would I?

One thing that our pastor has been focusing on the past couple of weeks is the importance of hiding God's word in our hearts. For me, that involves not only spending time in the Word, but also keeping my mind focused on things of God. It's just so easy for me to slip out of my God-centered mindset, so the more time I spend with Him, the better. Go figure :) It's not rocket science...if you want to know God, you need to spend time with Him.

So anyhow, as the container of hummus flew from my hands, like a slow-motion action shot (I'm pretty sure I tried to stop it from falling, a "NoooooOOOOooooo!" of dismay escaping my mouth), my gut reaction was to allow my frustration to spill out. Sharp words. Angry tone. But before I reacted, my spirit was checked by a fountain of truth spilling over me.

Be still and know that I am God.

Be quick to hear, slow to speak, and slow to anger.

Momentary light affliction.

All things work together for the good of those who love God.

Peace, be still.

Blessed are the meek.

I AM that I AM.

God of All.

The LORD is my Shepherd, I shall not want.

Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you.

And I felt the tension diffusing from me, like a big balloon deflating, coming down from its elevated height and settling in a crumpled heap on the ground. What an incredible perspective it is to look at your life through the lens of God's grace. There's no other way to pass through trials and storms. "For neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Rom. 8:38-39). NOTHING, absolutely NOTHING, can separate me from my Jesus. Grasping even the slightest hint of this truth, with the knowledge of who I once was, and who God has destined me to be, and the absolute dichotomy of the two, makes even the biggest container of dropped hummus utterly irrelevant. 

The old hymn "Count Your Blessings" may not be on the Billboard Top 100, but I guarantee it has a deeper message than any pop song. When I truly count my blessings, listing all that God has done for me in my life, there is simply no way that I can feel sorry for myself. I am a child of God. There's only glory at the feet of Christ. Knowing that nothing will cross my path that I cannot overcome because the Lord is mine, and I am His, is an incredible comfort. Because I know that bigger things than a spilled container of hummus will come my way. Bigger things have already come my way. It just happened that the hummus was all I could handle Friday night.

Matt Redman's "10,000 Reasons" is my song of the week, and my soul is truly worshipping at the thought of every reason I have to praise. From the sunrise this morning to "whatever lies before me" I want to have His praise on my lips. And let me be singing when the evening comes. 

Afflictions Eclipsed By Glory

He is jealous for me

Loves like a hurricane

I am a tree

Bending beneath

The weight of His wind and mercy

When all of a sudden

I am unaware of these

Afflictions eclipsed by Glory

And I realize how beautiful You are

And how great Your afflictions for me

I've had this song playing in my head all week...driving to school, working out, lying in bed...I feel like I'm at such a critical point in my life right now, where the Lord is drawing me to Himself with such an intensity, requiring me to abandon, literally cast aside, myself in the light of His all-surpassing greatness (Philippian 3:7-11). What an incredible image...our afflictions, eclipsed by His glory. It's like waking up and seeing the most beautiful sunrise ever, and multiplying that by a million. A glory too terrifying to behold, too bright for our human eyes to gaze upon, too perfect to grasp. A Glory that was nailed to a cross, mocked and broken, all so that I could have a relationship with the Father.

Wow.

Suddenly all of my life plans, or lack thereof--my worries about whether or not I'll have a job after I graduate, if I'll ever get married, WHO I'm going to marry, what I'll be doing ten years from now, God-I'm-so-tired-of-where-You-have-me-in-life-right-now-can-I-please-just-run-away-to-Belize-and-start-an-orphanage-there? prayers--seem so incredibly silly when I think about the magnitude of this love that Christ has for me. So Lord, I thank You for EXACTLY where You have me right now. For each and every trial that drives me to my knees and brings me closer to You. For every heartbreak that reminds me that this is not my home, not my final destination. For Your blood that was shed, for the Life I now have in You. May my life be eclipsed by Your glory, so that You are all that can be seen when others look at my life.

Gratefulness, Joy, and a Blind Beggar's Request

A bird does not sing because it has an answer

It sings because it has a song

(Chinese Proverb)

Today's sermon was on blind Bartimaeus (Luke 18:35-43), and how he waited each day by the road, begging for his existence, waiting for something to change, something to happen. He had heard about this Jesus, how He healed the sick, restored the cripples, and gave sight to the blind. And here He was, walking down the road, surrounded by a multitude clamoring for His touch, His words. Crying out, Bartimaeus tried to get Jesus' attention, but the crowd hushed him, and told him to be quiet. Yet above the tumult, Jesus heard the cry of the blind beggar and summoned him to Himself. "What do you want Me to do for you," Jesus asked. Bartimaeus responded with a single request: that he might see. "Receive your sight," the Lord cried out, "Your faith has made you well."

Can you imagine living your life, alone, blind, penniless, crawling the streets every day begging for a crust of bread to gnaw on or a drink of water to quench your thirst? And every day you go to bed on a stone stoop or under a bridge, still hungry, thirsty, and alone. You can't see the sun rise in the morning, you don't know what it looks like after a rainfall when droplets of water are still cascading off of flower petals, and you can't appreciate the change of seasons, when the luscious green of summer changes into autumn hues. You are in darkness.

But one day, you hear people talking about a Man who can take away your blindness, Who can heal your hurts, Who can comfort your soul. Every day you pray that this Man will come and rescue you from yourself. And every day you wait and listen for the sound of His coming. Scripture says that after he received his sight, Bartimaeus "began glorifying Him, glorifying God; and when all the people saw it, they gave praise to God" (verse 43). 

Like Bartimaeus, I too was once lost, blind, poor, and wretched. Without hope, and helpless on my own. But by the grace of God, he restored my sight, and gave me the gift of hope--an eternal life with Him in glory. Yet so often I forget the mystery of His mercy. Take for granted each breath that comes from Him. The lesson of a blind beggar waiting for God's miraculous touch is a reminder to me of my own spiritual regeneration. 

It's an inspiration for me, as well as a challenge, to live each day in the shadow of His grace, letting His light radiate from me. In a world full of selfishness and pride, qualities such as joy, peace, gentleness, and patience are becoming increasingly rare. Tomorrow, (as I take an exam I'm not prepared for and try and finish projects long overdue), I want to be defined by a song of joy, not a voice of complaining. 

Like the proverbial bird, I sing not because I have the answers; I sing because I know Who does. And that's something worth singing about. 

Why Not Me?

Last Thursday I received a text from my school's emergency alert system: 

Pitt ENS Alert: 

Active shooter has been identified at Western Psychiatric Institute. 

Lockdown recommended until further notice.

Along with thousands of others, I followed the news, shocked and horrified, as more details emerged. The randomness, the senselessness...a life cut short. And echoing through my mind was "This could have been me." There's no reason why this couldn't have happened on a different day, when I would have been there. There's no reason why I shouldn't have been in that lobby at the same time as the shooter. Obviously, there is a Reason, I know, but it's just one more reminder of how NOT in control I am of my life. Every day, every breath, every heartbeat, is ordained by God. 

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?...But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." (Matthew 6: 25-27, 33-34)

My prayers continue to go out to the family of Michael Schaab, as well as to the other families and victims involved.

The Law of Undulation

My Dear Wormwood,
...Has no one ever told you about the Law of Undulation?...Humans are amphibians--half spirit and half animal. (The Enemy's determination to produce such a revolting hybrid was one of the things that determined Our Father to withdraw his support from Him.) As spirits they belong to the eternal world, but as animals they inhabit time. This means that while their spirit can be directed to an eternal object, their bodies, passions, and imaginations are in continual change, for as to be in time means to change. Their nearest approach to constancy, therefore, is undulation--the repeated return to a level from which they repeatedly fall back, a series of troughs and peaks. If you had watched your patient carefully you would have seen this undulation in every department of his life--his interest in his work, his affection for his friends, his physical appetites, all go up and down. As long as he lives on earth periods of emotional and bodily richness and liveliness will alternate with periods of numbness and poverty. The dryness and dullness through which your patient is now going are not, as you fondly suppose, your workmanship; they are merely a natural phenomenon which will do us no good unless you make a good use of it.
To decide what the best use of it is, you must ask what use the Enemy wants to make of it, and then do the opposite. Now it may surprise you to learn that in His efforts to get permanent possession of a soul, He relies on the troughs even more than on the peaks; some of His special favourites have gone through longer and deeper troughs than anyone else. The reason is this. To us a human is primarily food; our aim is the absorption of its will into ours, the increase of our own area of selfhood at its expense. But the obedience which the Enemy demands of men is quite a different thing. One must face the fact that all the talk about His love for men, and His service being perfect freedom, is not (as one would gladly believe) mere propaganda, but an appalling truth. He really does want to fill the universe with a lot of loathsome little replicas of Himself--creatures whose life, on its miniature scale, will be qualitatively like His own, not because he has absorbed them but because their wills freely conform to His. We want cattle who can finally become food; He wants servants who can finally become sons. We want to suck in, He wants to give out. We are empty and would be filled; He is full and flows over. Our war aim is a world in which Our Father Below has drawn all other beings into himself: the Enemy wants a world full of beings united to Him but still distinct (C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters, Chapter 8).

We see this Law at work all around us. Our converted spirits long to commune with God, and yet our bodies are mortal, and therefore predisposed to change. The glorious times "on the mountain" are followed by times "in the valley" where the clouds of life hang over us and dim our eyes. And it is in these times of darkness and confusion when the enemy of our souls, aided by Screwtape-like spirits, casts his web of deception. We question His motives...a loving God wouldn't cause us pain, would He? A loving God couldn't stand by and watch me suffer like this, could He? And without understanding the true nature of the Father, we recreate Him to be something He is not. And if we don't know God, how can we grow in His image? That, after all, is the goal, is it not? To glorify God and to be renewed and remade into the image of His Son.
Part of knowing God, however, includes this element of reconciling the pain and sorrow of this life with the good God Who allows these things to be. I know I will never be able to grasp the fullness of Him; I will never wrap my mind around Who He is. But I know that Life is in His hands...not a petal falls from a wilting flower without His eyes seeing it. For me, that is enough to give me peace to sleep at nights. To know that God is in control, regardless of the chaos and randomness that my human eyes perceive.
The Law of Undulation states that change is a part of life; troughs and peaks are a natural process that, when surrendered to, can yield wonderful fruit. But one element never changes..."Yesterday, today, and forever Jesus is the same. All may change but Jesus never, glory to His name."

Idon'tknowwhyIhavesuchaproblemwithrelaxing

butIreallyneedtotakeabreakeveryonceinawhile!

We're finally in Florida after driving straight through the night, I'm settling in *yawn*, and I'm determined to NOT stress myself out with my "Things I Need to Get Done on Break" list.

God's timing never ceases to amaze me...my sister, my best friend, and I had planned to visit my grandparents over Spring Break, but our vacation became a trip of necessity after my grandfather was hit by a car while riding his bike a couple weeks ago. I'm so grateful that I have this week off so we can help my grandparents out (and squeeze in some sun time too!). As devastating as this accident has been, the Lord's hand is evident in my Pap's life, and it's just another reminder that all of our days are numbered. Kissing my grandfather on the cheek this evening was a moment that I won't take for granted again.

The last couple weeks have been a very real reminder of this fact. Freak accidents and "wrong-place-wrong-time" events have left me feeling very small and vulnerable...and very, very aware of how Great He is. My own arrogance amazes me at times...how I can walk through my life as if it's my own, as if who I am is a result of my own strength. I'm driven to my knees daily, crying out for His grace and mercy, that He would not treat me as I deserve. Truly, "how great You are, how small I am, how awesome is Your mighty hand..."