Life Below DingleBurn

Kingdom Stuff

2012-01-04T21:20:00.000-08:00

I was listening to Job on my iPhone while I made dinner tonight and the Lord came tapping. We've been worried lately-- about work and kids primarily--and He suddenly suggested I might be wise to simply give them up. The kids, mostly, since that's what I seem to carry-- the fear of never getting pregnant, or getting pregnant and losing them, over and over, etc. "They're My kids," He said. "No matter how long you carry them, they're My kids." I would do well to feel honored that I get to carry them for any amount of time.

Same about a job for my husband. All the jobs are God's! We cannot, by our worry or ingenuity, invent one for ourselves, any more than by trying we could cause conception. There's a reason He says, "Seek first the Kingdom." If all the work and all the children are His (and they are-- Ps. 127 and 1 Tim. 5:8), then they are all His stuff, and as we know, His stuff is, per force, Kingdom stuff.

So seek first the Kingdom. And all these things shall be added unto you. Unto me. And no matter what that looks like, He'll give me the strength to bear what He decides best suits the Kingdom. Jesus said so. And so did Mom.

Guess Who?

2011-03-28T18:01:00.000-07:00

My favorite things about Living Water Church in Olympia are how they feed and care for the down-trodden, and the stuff that gets spoken from the middle of their big black stage that my husband lights so well. Yesterday Shane was teaching, and he had some awesome stuff to say about Obed-edom, that guy the Ark stayed with while David took three months to get un-offended after God killed Uzzah for touching It during David's happy parade. Apparently after It stayed with Obed-edom and his family and they got blessed, Obed-edom volunteered for most of the duties that had to do with the Ark for the next three chapters. Shane concludes this dude just couldn't get enough of the Presence of God.

Then this morning I started reading Joshua (which I should have done a week ago), and there's the Ark again, carried on the shoulders of four priests so that the 1,000,000+ Israelites can cross the riverbed of the Jordan on dry ground. Do you remember what was inside the Ark? The Law, a basket of manna, and Aaron's flowering staff. Apparently, then, the Presence of God "houses" His Word on every subject, the life-bread of our existence and.... well, fruitful power and authority. Remember when the wrong people (the Philistines) tried to keep it from its rightful owners? Their precious god Dagon lost his hands and his head and ended up face-down before the Ark, and then they were overrun with rats and tumors! Remember how the Glory hovered over the house of the Ark? A pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night? For Forty years? And then the same in Canaan? In fact I've never been able to tell when the Glory departed, only that it rushed in like a filling vacuum when Solomon dedicated his temple. Maybe it was always there and they got used to it!

My point is that if the Presence of God indefinitely preserved a basket of stuff prone to rot after 24 hours, preserved the blossoms of a dead stick, made rivers dry up, blessed those who lived near It and honored It, and brought deserved consequences on those who would thwart It, it might behoove us to remember that It is now housed....
in.......
us.

One of Shane's points was that nothing but mankind was ever meant to carry the Presence of God. (Hence the unfortunate ending to the oxen and cart episode.) I for one forget approximately 23 hours, 59 minutes and 58 seconds a day just what kind of God I serve. And that the full power of the Godhead has been downloaded into my 125-pound body. If I can remember the reaction of that river to the Presence of God in a gold box, I'm thinking there are some things in my life that might move if I remind them Who now lives in me.

This post is mostly for Mrs. Dante and Mrs. Thoen...

2010-12-09T22:13:00.002-08:00

The erudite and erstwhile Robinson children in three of my favorite children's books have a name for what I did today-- Big Shopping! They have a valid and understandable horror of the thing seeing that it takes them away from precious home, into a labyrinthine city full of labyrinthine stores, lead by a harried and flustered mother-of-four who can barely hold the complaining rabble together with threats and bribes. It's ever so much bigger than simple shopping.

I do not have four small children to make Big Shopping an obstacle of Herculean proportions, Christmas is in 16 days, and regardless of what my husband thinks of the refrigerator, we needed food in the house. So I made lists and routes and calls all morning. Finally, fortified with coffee and "lunch" I sallied forth to take on one dollar store, two banks, three thrift stores, three grocery stores, and three or four other places which shall remain nameless due to the season. It took me 7.5 hours, it rained nearly the whole time, I caved and got "food" at Starbucks half-way through, coffee three-quarters of the way through, and crashed a charity auction planning committee by mistake, but returned home completely victorious! I even asked Jesus for a break in the rain to unload the car and He cleared off the whole sky for me in two minutes. Complete with sickle moon and glittering stars. Darling Man.

The real reason I'm posting, though, is to show you my treasures. It was a good day at the two Visiting Nurses Thrift Stores I patronized: 50% off everything in the store. I could have bought something for everyone I know. Yes, even you. As it was, I found a lot of things I can't post because they're top secret, but what I can show you is the awesome actually-vintage wrapping paper (don't much like that new-fangled stuff) I found, the milk bottle vases, the silverware box that is now the display case for the rocks my special-needs Angel Tree boy collects, the baby clothes for my other Angel Tree boy (the tag said they needed warm 6-9 month clothes-- 'bout broke my heart), the red Norwegian quail that is my grandmother all over, and (drum roll please) our dishes! Dale and I have been searching high and low for a set of dishes we both like-- Bed, Bath and Beyond, WalMart, Macy's-- everywhere. And then I walked in to Visiting Nurses today and there was this set, one cup and saucer shy of full, and for half-off! I bought 8 dinner plates, 8 salad plates, 8 soup bowls, 7 cups and saucers, one pitcher, cream and sugar, and two serving dishes. For $15.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ahem. I mean-- Jesus. Rocks.

And then I went grocery shopping and found

A beautiful pomegranate

Perfectly orange oranges

The bread my viking requested that just happened to have vikings on it

Positively enormous apples

Gorgeous portabella mushrooms, and

Plain organic pumpkin for .99 a can.

So, Perry, Ant, Beanie and Sundance Robinson, the moral of the story is that though Big Shopping can be perilous and exhausting, sometimes it pays to ask Jesus to take you out on a spree.

Did I mention our Christmas shopping is nearly done? And there are still 16 days till Christmas!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Let me sum up...."

2010-12-08T21:28:00.000-08:00

I got married quite suddenly this fall. I haven't blogged in months because I was busy falling in love. With this guy:

After years of waiting and praying and hoping and not a few private tears, God opened the sluice gate of heaven, the dam broke, and I discovered Dale Erickson had been waiting for me much longer than I had been waiting for him.

So he made me a ring.

And we got engaged.

Then he bought me a ring.

And we got married. (Dress by Cathy Duvall, flowers by me, tux by Bartell's, picture by Mom, us by God.)

We went on a honeymoon.

And I fell in love all over again every single day.

Then we came home. (It's been painted since then.) And I fell in love with our house.

And we had another reception.

(Did I mention a ton of my Ecola friends came?)

And then real life finally got under way.

Well, interrupted by Thanksgiving at our house. Uh-mazing.

And so far "real life" has left me breathless with joy. I never knew I could be loved like this. I never knew I could love like this. To have someone who has promised never to go away, who stays there to laugh with me and at me, to cry with me and for me, who eats his meals-- the meals I cook!-- next to me every day, who's life I share and who shares mine.... it's the reason I think God made marriage the metaphor: it's a small taste of heaven on earth.

I'm going to admit to a But, though.

Marriage is a taste of heaven, but.... I'm still human. Getting married, as it turns out, did not suddenly perfect me. I was warned. Seven years ago my darling friend Cathi tied the knot and told me shortly thereafter that she hadn't had a clue how selfish she was until she married her wonderful husband. I made a mental note to research it myself if God ever gave me the chance.

He's giving me the chance.

I have an amazing husband who is a paragon of self-sacrifice. And his love is a powerful motivation towards my own self-denial. But only six weeks into this I can't help feeling it's only a matter of time before I run out of ideas for dinner, enthusiasm, sleep, resources, everything, and just give up because I'm simply not selfless enough to continue well. It will hang over my day and I wonder if I have what it takes to do this wife thing.

Today I was listening to Ginny Owens sing about Moses' argument with God. So I read it tonight, and was slain once again.

"And the Lord said to him, 'Who has made man's mouth? Or who makes him dumb or deaf, or seeing or blind? Is it not I, the Lord? Now then go, and I, even I, will be with your mouth, and teach you what you are to say.' " ~Exodus 4:11-12~

I think most of us could insert some sort of insufficiency in place of the word "mouth." We all have stuff that gives us as much pause as public speaking gave Moses. We come up with a thousand excuses to avoid what God has called us to do because we don't think we have what it takes.

We're right, by the way. That's the rub.

But look what He says! "Is it not I?" He is the One who has made the very thing with which we take such issue. And He will be with it, whatever it is. He did not ask Moses to deliver Israel. He asked Moses to be obedient, to do the next thing, and He would deliver Israel.

He has not asked me to be the perfect wife. He has asked me to be obedient, to make the next meal, do the next load of laundry, to get up early the next morning, and He will accomplish Good Wifehood.

So thank you, Ginny. And thank You, Jesus! Life is suddenly doable again.

Did I mention we had a maple-bar-and-bacon wedding cake?

Isn't He Lovely?

2010-09-11T12:47:00.000-07:00

Okay, so....... haven't blogged in..... well, long enough that I can't remember the last time I blogged. But! I have not been idle (curb those knowing snickers, girls; I can hear them from here), and no more has Jesus. I've been living so much I haven't been writing about it. But this afternoon I just wanted to pass along what Jesus has been beating into my head for the last several weeks. Ready for this?

"Have you asked Me?"

Even more simply, "Ask Me!"

He sees me worrying, fretting, trying to do things in my own strength, sort out what I'm to do, the when, the how, the where, the with-what-money, and He says, gently (and often with His sense of humor peaking through), "Have you even asked Me for help on that? I'm still you're dad! I'm still able! Just because these are new challenges, new roads, new emotions doesn't mean I don't know what to do. I have enough resources for your 'problem'. Honest. And did I mention I still love you?"

It's not like I don't trust Him when I remember to. But I'm a girl. I forget stuff. I need to be told and reminded and reassured early and often. And He's a brilliant, good, smart, kind Man, and He knows this. About me, about you, about everyone. So He does.

Deep sigh of relief! Isn't that lovely?

"Jesus, Jesus, How I trust Him,
How I've proved Him o'er and o'er.
Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus,
Oh for grace to trust Him more."

From imagination to reality...

2010-07-18T17:13:00.001-07:00

Oh the marvels of creating! This used to be simply an island-shaped space in my brain. Then it became an island-shaped sketch in my sketchbook. And now it's a three-dimensional island in pottery! How crazy that what once only I could see, the world may now observe as well. God is ridiculous: He shared this ability with us! That is so much trust and respect on His part. Brave, ridiculous God.

The Humility of Happiness

2010-06-16T13:42:00.000-07:00

Realization 2,892,701: I have been scared of happiness for a long time.

Anybody?

I'm not positive, but I think I've been infected with suspicion of the concept by our Christian culture. Peace and joy, it implies, are fine. Holy. Maintainable. Happiness is... well, worldly! Happiness seems to be based on transient things, might easily fade, might leave us horrendously disappointed--
Stop!
There-- the truth slips and shows itself: being disappointed.
If I'm disappointed, I reason, it must mean I did something wrong, and am therefore morally culpable. And being horrendously disappointed creates pain, pain we want to avoid. In our finite view of ourselves and human history we have no idea what might improve us. So we push the dual potential away and embrace mediocrity. Being neither happy nor sad is a much more emotionally-defensible position; it lowers the risk factor (generally considered to be a good thing by this wounded world).

But as C.S. Lewis said, pain and joy are inextricably linked. If we never rejoice, we'll never weep, but that is no good reason not to rejoice. Or, in this intensely personally-applicable instance, not to be happy.

Besides, who is trying to convince us that we'll end up miserable if we submit to the humility of happiness?! We have no positive proof that things will go badly. Tolkien named the sudden turning out right a Eucatastrophe. Patricia says in Joe Vs. the Volcano, "Nobody knows anything, Joe. We'll take this leap, and we'll see. We'll jump, and we'll see. That's life, right?" And David says of this God we serve, "He heals the brokenhearted, and binds up their sorrows." ~Ps. 147:3 No promises that things won't have gone wrongly for a long time, or that we won't have to jump, or that we won't have broken hearts to mend. Only that all will be well. If the bad guy is winning, the story ain't over.

Not only that, but by way of a p.s., my brilliant friend Elisabeth did a little research and discovered that "Blessed" means "happy, fortunate, to be envied." Paul tells us in Eph. 1 that we are, in fact, blessed. Therefore if we have not happiness, we are missing an intrinsic part of our character.

So it turns out we have to trust Him. Again. Go figure. We jump, and we pray for a miracle, and we see. That's life. Why waste it in the common, colorless land of In-Between?

More Pool....

2010-06-15T16:01:00.001-07:00

We stormed the Olympic Club again and as stunt fliers raced around the sky of New York Harbor on the telly, as the jukebox played, well, lots of stuff, and as the local sky poured rain, Maggie and Amanda duked it out with Boomer and Jessie for supremacy on the table.

Living Dangerously

2010-06-05T10:09:00.000-07:00

"And He said to him, Go, wash in the Pool of Siloam-- which means Sent. So he went and washed and came back seeing." John 9:7
When I wake up in the morning, I roll over and grab my Bible. My brain hasn't quite filled up at that point and I can focus and imagine better. Today I just wondered, Why did John mention the name of this pool and why did Jesus not simply heal him right then?
Tumbling the thought around my half-empty brain brought me to the conclusion that Jesus was saying (at least) that sometimes His answers take time, and sometimes His answers take the footwork of faith of the "miracle-ee". He hadn't done a miracle like this before (so saith the blind man in vs. 32), so the man had to believe it would work-- with no precedent-- and walk it out. Jesus "Sent" him, told him to be a fool with mud in his eyes all the way across town. And the guy went.
How often are we willing to take Jesus' word that He has done whatever it is and go walk it out? Lauren and I rehashed yesterday how frequently we tell God we want to know exactly how something will end before we consent to go forward. We argue, rationally, that we might get hurt or look foolish or make mistakes if we aren't sure of the outcome, and He's about perfection, right? Proverbs, and wisdom, and all that, right?
Somehow stating it in those words made me see the arrogance of the position. Who ever gets to know how the story ends? "It's like someone reading the last page of the book first!" said Lauren. And it totally eliminates the need for faith.
This blind guy lived like he had nothing to lose. He proves it over and over throughout the chapter. (It really is a great chapter-- go read it.) And here, by trusting Jesus, he gains sight he's never had.
Could faith possibly be as simple as realizing we've got nothing to lose by believing Jesus? Even if it means walking across town, getting hurt, looking foolish, making mistakes? If it's true, the payoff is disproportionately rad: our eyes get opened and we see the Light of the World.

"Do not be afraid!" ~ God

2010-06-03T13:37:00.000-07:00

Anyone out there counted the layers to fear lately? I got disabused of another one last night. I was going to say it was layers of pride, but realized that would be to name the symptom rather than the disease. I was sitting in a dark theater with some of my best friends, watching Robin Hood and commenting my way through it. Per usual. (Side note: if for no other reason, see it because it's absobloominlutely beautiful.) Then God conspired.

Crane shot above the bad guy striding in the castle gate in a billowing black cape.

"Gratuitous use of cape!" I said.

"Yeah," quoth Dale, "but I like it."

Beat, beat.

I realized I did too. In fact the only reason I had said anything in the first place was because I liked it. But, heaven help me! I was liking a cliche! Something the filmmakers had intended me to like. I couldn't do that, could I? That would expose my innate simplicity and destroy my precious snobbery which I assumed was necessary to protect myself from other peoples' bad opinions. After all, I've spent a life-time making sure people think of me as a smart, with-it, tasteful girl who has risen above her sheltered up-bringing. Ugh, that looks harsh in print.

But that's fear. Basic, craven fear. "If I am not myself, who will be?" says Pirke Avot. If I hide behind a projection, no one is well-served-- not me, not you, not the Body, not the Lord.

So, confession:
*I think billowing capes are cool,
*Half-light is amazing,
*I like my corduroy jacket,
*and my brown boots that make me look like a hick.
*I would rather live a quiet life.
*I can do a lot of things, but that doesn't mean I have to.
*I am not an extrovert.
*And flowers, stars, moonlight, and tree tunnels make me disproportionately happy.

There you go.

Cemetery Therapy

2010-06-01T19:14:00.001-07:00

Whew, what a day! Harried and hurried from pillar to post, buffeted by life and bruised by circumstance. But lots of little things happened to stabilize my tempest-tossed heart, like sweet texts from friends, a good painting, and then a slow meandering drive home with Jesus. We made a stop at my favorite cemetery and by the time I was done taking pictures and tromping through the drizzle I felt 100% better. Below are some of the sights that soothed my soul. This is one of the oldest parts of the cemetery as far as I can tell: I call it the Ivy Grove because the old-growth ivy still clings to the trees even though the ivy trunks have long been cut: Just to the west of the grove this blooming thing is grown up in the middle of some non-blooming thing. This is my favorite tombstone in the grove. It says "Infant daughter of T.R. & L. Winston, Feb. 17, 1883." My two other favorites are Matilda Jackson's and the confederate Lieutenant who died in Lewis County in 1924. What?! Last of all is the huge tree that dominates the whole yard. It's leaves are almost black, though they're red/maroon from most angles. Any idea what sort of tree it is?

I Win!

2010-05-31T14:26:00.001-07:00

First legit latte art ever! Steamed AND poured by me. Purely accidental. :-)

Tea For Eight

2010-05-25T22:14:00.001-07:00

Tea party for the May/June art class birthday girls. Love you Katie and Susanne!

Nightmares

2010-05-24T09:21:00.000-07:00

I had nightmares last night; it's always scariest when it's man's inhumanity to man. The creatures of our most lurid imaginings have nothing on us. Oddly one of my first thoughts as I rolled over reaching for my Bible was what I had read a few short hours ago when I couldn't fall asleep. Pardon my lengthy excerpts from C.S. Lewis' The Four Loves (this is from the last few pages of the book), but I shall build upon it.

"In God there is no hunger that needs to be filled, only plenteousness that desires to give. The doctrine that God was under no necessity to create is not a piece of dry scholastic speculation. It is essential. Without it we can hardly avoid the conception of what I can only call a 'managerial' God; a Being whose function or nature is to 'run' the universe, who stands to it as a head-master to a school or a hotelier to a hotel. But to be sovereign of the universe is no great matter to God. In Himself, at home in 'the land of the Trinity,' He is Sovereign of a far greater realm. We must keep always before our eyes that vision of Lady Julian's in which God carried in His hand a little object like a nut, and that nut was 'all that is made.' God, who needs nothing, loves into existence wholly superfluous creatures in order that He may love and perfect them....."

"......No sooner do we believe God loves us than there is an impulse to believe that He does so, not because He is Love, but because we are intrinsically lovable......... As Bunyan says, describing his first and illusory conversion, 'I thought there was no man in England that pleased God better than I.' Beaten out of this, we next offer our own humility to God's admiration. Surely He'll like that? Or if not that, our clear-sighted and humble recognition that we still lack humility. Thus, depth beneath depth and subtlety within subtlety, there remains some lingering idea of our own, our very own, attractiveness. It is easy to acknowledge, but almost impossible to realize for long, that we are mirrors whose brightness, if we are bright, is wholly derived from the sun that shines upon us. Surely we must have a little-- however little-- native luminosity? Surely we can't be quite creatures?"

In my dream there was no doubt about our lack of "native luminosity." What was so frightening was that though I have never seen or heard of man doing what was done, I knew it was perfectly likely. Probably has been done, somewhere, somewhen. But again, one of my first thoughts was, "And God loves even this? These fearsome perpetrators of deeds that I can see even with my eyes closed?" And then for an awful moment I remembered the wars of the Canaanite Conquest, and David's use of a measuring line to decide who lived and who died and that these were done in the service of God. My God. Who loves me.

Leaving aside some obvious theological tangents, I dove for Jesus. I picked up where I'd left off in John 8-- the woman caught in adultery.

²Early in the morning He came again into the temple, and all the people were coming to Him; and He sat down and began to teach them. ³The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman caught in adultery, and having set her in the center of the court, ⁴they said to Him, "Teacher, this woman has been caught in adultery, in the very act. ⁵Now in the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women; what then do You say?"

⁶They were saying this, testing Him, so that they might have grounds for accusing Him. But Jesus stooped down and with His finger wrote on the ground. ⁷But when they persisted in asking Him, He straightened up, and said to them, ^"He who is without sin among you, let him be the first to throw a stone at her."

⁸Again He stooped down and wrote on the ground. ⁹When they heard it, they began to go out one by one, beginning with the older ones, and He was left alone, and the woman, where she was, in the center of the court.

¹⁰Straightening up, Jesus said to her, "Woman, where are they? Did no one condemn you?"

¹¹She said, "No one, Lord." And Jesus said, "I do not condemn you, either Go From now on sin no more."

A couple of things: I do not remember realizing before that this whole event occurs in the Temple. I'd always placed it in some street. I also unconsciously ascribed some "native luminosity" to the woman-- usually beauty, sometimes a back story of an abusive marriage-- anything that made her intrinsically sympathetic. To me and to Jesus.

But even in my half-conscious state the Lord began to connect the dots. She may have been beautiful. She may have been well past the bloom of youth. She may have had a terrible husband. She may have been the worst of wives. The point is that, standing in the Temple, the very sign and seal of the Old Covenant, Jesus stoops down and shows a new covenant written in the very dust of which He made His new Tabernacle. A Covenant that for the first time does not depend on the "native luminosity" of we the created. With one conversation He turns the whole system on its head. "Here is the worst offender: a female adulteress. Caught in the very act, doubt impossible. And instead of demanding the death penalty--" He loves the unlovable. And the intelligentsia of the day begin to slowly drift away as they see the justice of His mercy.

A Phrase Well-Turned

2010-05-23T12:26:00.000-07:00

Every once in a while an affinity for a person wholly unreachable springs up and we get to admire and "interact" from afar. That's what happened to Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barrett. Till he married her. Anyway, John Howe has been a favorite illustrator of mine for years, and the brilliant part is that he's still alive. He keeps a rambling and random blog which is always well-written, witty, profound (and long), coupling his love of all things art with his love for history, anthropology, mythology and the written word. The result is constantly surprising, enlightening, and, to me, extremely endearing. What this man write half a world away continually comes out looking like what is already in my head. Oddly, this is far more true of his words than his paintings, most of the latter of which I love dearly.

Earlier this month he wrote a blog about talking about art. It delighted me, so I'm sharing it with you. It's not long (for once) and I think those of you who enjoy a phrase well-turned will enjoy it very much.

Daniel and the Dozer

2010-05-22T11:03:00.001-07:00

It has begun!

Lunch with Liddy

2010-05-21T13:00:00.000-07:00

Pool and catfish with Liddy for my birthday. ☺ Yea for the Oly Club! What style, what fun!

Promises, Promises

2010-05-19T21:23:00.000-07:00

Apparently I'm failing Blog Pacing 101, but oh well. The bug has bit and I must scratch.

Yesterday I was musing that one of the reasons I have trouble waiting patiently and faith-fully for things from the Lord is because I have no assurance that these things are promised to me. I think, "If I were Abraham and had a promise to claim I'd do better!"

Oh wait. Hagar.

"If I were Caleb and had been promised that I would not die till I had been given my promised land, hopefully I would do better!"

So. How do I have faith for what has not been promised?

Five minutes later Jesus led me an intense dance through the Psalms, answering that very question.

"I waited patiently for the LORD."
Ps. 40:1a

Why do I constantly forget that? Especially considering the next line is,

"and He inclined to me, and heard my cry."
Ps. 40:1b

And then, good grief, it kept going!

"How blessed is the man who has made the LORD his trust,
And has not turned to the proud, nor to those who lapse into falsehood."
Ps. 40:4

As women those words cut especially deep because of our tendency when faced with a lack of trust in Jesus to get suckered by the strong man, who turns out to be nothing but proud, and the smooth talker who turns out to be one long falsehood. Which of us hasn't done it? From Eve on down?

"Many, O LORD my God, are the wonders which Thou hast done,
And Thy thoughts toward us;
There is none to compare with Thee;
If I would declare and speak to them,
They would be too numerous to count."
Ps. 40:5

On the way into town yesterday I found myself thanking Him out of self-defense for all the good happening in my life, of which there is far more than bad. "Too numerous to count," really. I felt much better for having done. Funny how that works:

"I have spoken of Thy faithfulness and Thy salvation;
I have not concealed Thy lovingkindness from the congregation."
Ps. 40:10

I can't prove it, but I hope the above results in the below:

"Thou, O LORD, wilt not withhold Thy compassion from me;
Thy lovingkindness and Thy truth will continually preserve me."
Ps. 40:11

Then He began to get blessedly repetitive as we moved on to the next psalm.

"My soul waits in silence for God only;
From Him is my salvation.
He only is my rock and my salvation,
My stronghold; I shall not be greatly shaken."
Ps. 62:1-2

(Sometimes I think David had a lot of female in his nature. Bless him. And all those other Hebrews who did not chastise emotion.)
Am I waiting for somebody to be my rock and my salvation?

"On God my salvation and my glory rest."
Ps. 62:7a

From my word studies I have gathered that "glory" could be considered a decent synonym for "reality." "Essence", even. And I can easily see that I am looking elsewhere than to God to make me feel real, to validate my essence. Why is it so hard to find my reality in Jesus? I find His more readily.

"Trust in Him at all times, O people;
Pour out your heart before Him;
God is a refuge for us."
Ps. 62:8

This is a fact. God is a refuge for us. Not "can be," or "might be," or even "will be." He is. Once again. I can pour out my heart like a girl and instead of being disapproving, He says, "Come here-- hide out in My safe blanket fort for a while. I'll rub your feet." Why do I constantly push that away?
Simple: I don't grasp the reality- the glory-- of His attitude.

"If riches increase, do not set your heart on them."
Ps. 62:10b

I know David means literal wealth, but the wealth I crave isn't money. So logic dictates I set my heart on the Lord even if one day I get what I want.

"...lovingkindness is Thine, O God..."
Ps. 62:12a

I don't have to have faith like Caleb's for love. He's promised that.

Does Jesus Ever Freak YOU Out?

2010-05-18T22:00:00.000-07:00

I have been reading John 6 for days and days, an inch at a time. It's taken me years to come to an appreciation of John; now that I understand that he writes more by topic than by chronology, it's easier to track. And I'm learning so much from his topics.
For instance, John 6:16-21.
"When evening came, His disciples went down to the sea, and they took a boat and were going across the sea to Capernaum."
They were doing something they knew how to do. Same old routine. But then,
"It was now dark, and still Jesus had not [yet] come back to them."
Dun-dun-dun-duh.
"Meanwhile, the sea was getting rough and rising high because of a great and violent wind that was blowing."
Suddenly, into the midst of their normalcy, which they had under control, even in the dark, without Jesus, came a wind they could not manage.
"[However] when they had rowed three or four miles,"
--not stubborn in their pride, necessarily, just desperate to survive the only way left. Apparently.
"they saw Jesus walking on the sea and approaching the boat. And they were afraid (terrified)."
Then Jesus showed up, demonstrating His authority with an alternative solution to survival, and it was scarier than the storm!
"But Jesus said to them, It is I; be not afraid. [I AM; stop being frightened!]"
He reassured them, not with demonstrations of His superiority over them or nature or the situation, but by simply reminded them that He IS. That was supposed to be enough. And it was!
"Then they were quite willing and glad for Him to come into the boat."
Not until we're convinced that God is GOD do we truly desire to invite Him to handle disaster. Anything less than I AM is no help to us.
"And now the boat went at once to the land they had steered toward. [And immediately they reached the shore toward which they had been slowly making their way.]"
Once all that is established-- the storm interrupting our standard sufficiency, our helplessness, and His good self-existence-- it's amazing how quickly the objective can be reached.

From these musings I gather: 1.) I should not be surprised to find God interrupting areas in which I have self-confidence; 2.) I should not resist humility when it arrives in the form of miracles I could not work; 3.) I should not push Him away when He shows up to take over; 4.) I should marinate in His I AM-ness, and 5.) I should enjoy in peace the ensuing ride, however long or short it is.

28 and counting.....

2010-05-14T20:30:00.001-07:00

Having a wonky back today has actually proved fairly helpful: I've gotten all sorts of "unnecessary" things done that I've been wanting to finish. Things like updating my blogs, sorting out some pictures, marshaling some financial stuff, and catching up on Stargate, which, I am delighted to say, has been extended on Hulu till January. No need to watch 4.5 seasons by tomorrow night. (Which is good because without the assistance of a stabilized wormhole and a solar flair I wouldn't have the time.)

I promised birthday pictures. The thought of photographing all the different parts was overwhelming me, so I dumped them all in a chair and had Mom take one picture. You find it below with corresponding descriptions.

1. (Which I absentmindedly left black when it should have been white-- it's on those outrageous magenta flowers) Flowers from Cynthia! I came home to a bower that evening and this was a completely unexpected part of it. These flowers are super cool too because they fade like a bad print in the sun. With her daughter getting married next weekend this was incredibly thoughtful!

2.0 Glorious flowers from Dana. This was my favorite one:

2.1 The most amazing swing from Dana! This was absolutely one of those things I didn't know I wanted till I saw it. It brings back all the memories of my grandparent's front porch, curling up in their enormous wicker swing and twirling till I was sick. This is a collapsible, indoor-outdoor canvas swing, big enough to curl up in, and be twirled by some obliging fellow.

2.2 Godiva chocolate. Need I say more?

2.3 Fenlon's Meditations on the Heart of God. So good.

3.0 Elisabeth sent me a brilliant box and Praying God's Word was in the bottom. It's one of the few things I've asked for lately and she, naturally, heard me and procured it. Already it is remarkable, and I want to give one to every person I know.

3.1 Menus for my feet! These are my coffee shoes! Elisabeth decorated them with every coffee word you could think of. They get rave reviews wherever they go.

3.2 Work clothes! This is my new favorite shirt. ☺

4. My Utmost for His Highest. Confession: I have never read this. For ridiculous prideful reasons that Andrew understood. So he gave me his lovely copy because I decided to humble myself and read it. ☺

5. Bethany brought me rum balls from the Market Street Bakery. I love my family so I shared.

6. Scorch! I love this. Talia painted me a dragon. We understand one another.

7.0 Drum-roll please........ the complete boxed set of Jeeves and Wooster! My beloved sister has a knack. My whole family pitched in and bought laughter from Amazon. These make me disproportionately happy.

7.1 The wrapping paper my sister made for the box. Yeah. She's awesome.

And that's all for the evening folks! Thanks to all of you who sent texts and facebook greetings and called me all day long. I felt very treasured. The Lord is indefatigably kind.

Cross Referencing

2010-05-14T14:47:00.000-07:00

Here's something fun! My friend Chelsea did a write-up on her excellent blog about the painting I just finished for she and her husband. You can find it here.

Cloud Pictures

2010-05-14T14:17:00.000-07:00

So this morning my lower back was giving me absolute fits; couldn't bend over, couldn't put on my shoes, etc. Boomer was kind enough to take a walk with me so I could try to limber it up and man! Am I glad we did! This is what we found:Do you see that massive hummingbird?! I haven't seen a cloud-shape so complete in a long time. It was a thrill! Thank You, Jesus! I'd love to paint it or do it in stained glass. (And not bad for my little phone, eh?)

I know my blog has been silent for a long time. Too much going on to process it all here. I hope to get some pictures up before long of the treasures I was given for my birthday, but until then stories in the sky will have to do.

Practical Theology

2010-04-12T22:42:00.000-07:00

Learning about men and women lately has been teaching me so much about God. We each carry half of His image. Therefore we must be able to glean something simply by looking around. Or inside. Here are two wing-dingers that have been knocking me for a loop:

1. Scenario: something needs to be done.

The guy says, "I will be there at three. God can stop me if He wants, but otherwise I will be there at three."

The girl says, "I will try to be there at three, but you know how traffic is and the toddler has been hiding my keys lately and it's just possible that the rain will get worse, so I can't promise anything, but God willing I will be there at three."

The guy sees the objective and goes for it-- "Damn the torpedoes/Full speed ahead/ That's what Admiral Farragut said." His obstinate determination means he occasionally runs over people, doesn't bother about all the information that may be needed, and can risk being thought pig-headed and proud. On the other hand that same drive subdues oceans, tames wildernesses, conquers the moon, and keeps him faithful to one woman his whole life.

The girl sees the objective and deliberates-- there are a thousand and one contingencies that mean she never doesn't see the Butterfly Effect. Her sideways-thinking brain makes her occasionally dither, often worry, and drive those around her mad with her seeming indecision. On the other hand, that same drive enables her to multi-task, extend grace and empathy, smooth ruffled feathers, make sure the children don't kill each other, and realize when her husband irritates her that there are a billion other reasons she loves him anyway.

He may need to learn grace and humility, she may need to learn bravery and trust.

As my friend Ben said today, "He is full of grace and truth." Two-in-one. He is therefore fully qualified to teach each sex how to navigate the labyrinth of their individual idiosyncrasies. And strengths.

2. I feel the most..... good, I guess, when I feel beautiful. This fits with the model of women representing the beautiful side of the image of God. The other side (at least for this equation) has men representing the strength of God. Together we are beauty and strength.

If I can deduce that men feel the most good when they are being strong (physically, emotionally, or spiritually), then God the Bridegroom must feel good when He is being strong. I haven't thought much about the beautiful part because in this equation we are the girl. We are the beautiful bride. He is the strong one. So. What does a guy do when a girl walks up to him and asks how fast he can run or how high he can climb or how far he can walk on his hands? He shows her. With a glint in his eye.

What happens if we as the bride saunter up to our Betrothed, bat our eyelashes and say, "Hey, can you cancel the laws of physics so those cars won't collide? Hey, can You save my grandfather? Hey, can you raise the dead?" Essentially, "How far can you walk on Your hands?"

These are practical theologies, friends.

Favorite Things

2010-04-07T19:49:00.000-07:00

Jesus highlighted this this morning: "For out of His fullness (abundance) we have all received [all had a share and we were all supplied with] one grace after another and spiritual blessing upon spiritual blessing and even favor upon favor and gift [heaped] upon gift." John 1:16 Amplified

Blessings, favor, gifts and grace. (Alphabetically.)

Blessings –noun

1. The act or words of a person who blesses.

2. A special favor, mercy, or benefit.

3. A favor or gift bestowed by God, thereby bringing happiness.

4. The invoking of God's favor upon a person.

5. Praise; devotion; worship, esp. grace said before a meal.

6. Approval or good wishes.

Favor –noun

1. Something done or granted out of goodwill, rather than from justice or for remuneration; a kind act.

2. Friendly or well-disposed regard; goodwill.

3. The state of being approved or held in regard.

4. Excessive kindness or unfair partiality; preferential treatment.

5. A gift bestowed as a token of goodwill, kind regard, love, etc.

6. A ribbon, badge, etc., worn in evidence of goodwill or loyalty, as by an adherent of a political party.

7. A small gift or decorative or festive item, as a noisemaker or paper hat, often distributed to guests at a party.

Gifts –noun

1. Something given voluntarily without payment in return, as to show favor toward someone, honor an occasion, or make a gesture of assistance; present.

2. The act of giving.

3. Something bestowed or acquired without any particular effort by the recipient or without its being earned.

4. A special ability or capacity; natural endowment; talent.

Grace –noun

1. Elegance or beauty of form, manner, motion, or action.

2. A pleasing or attractive quality or endowment.

3. Favor or good will.

4. A manifestation of favor, esp. by a superior.

5. Mercy; clemency; pardon.

6. Favor shown in granting a delay or temporary immunity.

7. An allowance of time after a debt or bill has become payable granted to the debtor before suit can be brought against him or her or a penalty applied.

I don't even have to write this post! The dictionary did it for me. He gave us all this, even the crazy "non-applicable" stuff (is not His favor like a noisemaker at the somber event of life?), simply because He had too much of it. What do we even as humans do with abundance? We don't hoard it because we know it will rot or rust or mold. We give it away. He had so much of this stuff that He dropped it off on our proverbial doorstep.

My word. That's all I can say.

Besides Thank You.

View original post at: http://jemacin.blogspot.com/2010/04/favorite-things.html

Word

2010-03-12T21:36:00.000-08:00

^{Really read it. Eph. 1:13-23, Amplified.}

¹³In Him you also who have heard the Word of Truth, the glad tidings (Gospel) of your salvation, and have believed in and adhered to and relied on Him, were stamped with the seal of the long-promised Holy Spirit. ¹⁴That [Spirit] is the guarantee of our inheritance [the firstfruits, the pledge and foretaste, the down payment on our heritage], in anticipation of its full redemption and our acquiring [complete] possession of it--to the praise of His glory. ¹⁵For this reason, because I have heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love toward all the saints (the people of God), ¹⁶I do not cease to give thanks for you, making mention of you in my prayers. ¹⁷[For I always pray to] the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, that He may grant you a spirit of wisdom and revelation [of insight into mysteries and secrets] in the [deep and intimate] knowledge of Him, ¹⁸by having the eyes of your heart flooded with light, so that you can know and understand the hope to which He has called you, and how rich is His glorious inheritance in the saints (His set-apart ones), ¹⁹and [so that you can know and understand] what is the immeasurable and unlimited and surpassing greatness of His power in and for us who believe, as demonstrated in the working of His mighty strength, ²⁰which He exerted in Christ when He raised Him from the dead and seated Him at His [own] right hand in the heavenly [places], ²¹far above all rule and authority and power and dominion and every name that is named [above every title that can be conferred], not only in this age and in this world, but also in the age and the world which are to come. ²²And He has put all things under His feet and has appointed Him the universal and supreme Head of the church [a headship exercised throughout the church], ²³which is His body, the fullness of Him Who fills all in all [for in that body lives the full measure of Him Who makes everything complete, and Who fills everything everywhere with Himself].

Boats and Me

2010-03-11T22:58:00.000-08:00

Just because I haven't been writing does not mean things have not been happening. In fact very often the times I do not write are the times in which God is most industrious in my soul. I leaned out the window at work last night and chatted with a customer about the curious phenomenon of the human being's love/hate relationship with boats: "The only thing worse than having a boat is not having one," "A boat is just a hole in the water you pour money into," and "The best days of your life are the day you buy your boat and the day you sell her." Ask any boat owner, and unless they are first-timers with the stars still in their eyes, they will agree with you.
On my drive home the Lord occurred it to me that those sayings are also particularly apt in describing the human being's love/hate relationship with themselves. As Christians this is Romans 7 in nautical maxim-- just replace "boat" with the correct grammatical form of "me." We can't help loving ourselves, but no less can we help hating our ornery selfishness, our temper, our fear, our pique, our idiocy, our insecurity, our depravity.

That's a large part of where I am right now-- square in-between loving and loathing. I keep trying to remember what Elisabeth told me ("Jesus covers the ugliness with Himself"), and what Ps. 103 says about God remembering that we are only dust.

I'm grateful for this spot, actually, because for years and years now I've been asking Jesus to disabuse me of my own opinion of myself. I knew I couldn't actually be all that and a bag of chips, but I didn't know how I wasn't. Laugh if you like-- I do too. A year ago He knocked a scale or two of my eyes and I began to understand a little. Since then every month has brought new revelation, deeper and deeper levels of my own inadequacy, stupidity, pride, fear... you name it, I've got it. Though welcome, this has been something of a shock. ☺ I told my sister it's a little (a very little) like being Jason Bourne, waking up slowly to the reality of who I am and not wanting to be that any more. The good news is unlike Jason, I have Jesus.

Right now the hard part seems to be recognizing what is actually true about me (and God) and then dealing with that truth. I keep walking that fine line of disgust with what is truly wrong with me and my position in the Beloved. This is not really a post that has a conclusion. In fact I'm not even sure why I'm posting it. Hoping someone will relate I suppose. Anyone have any thoughts on the subject?

see original post here

Bits and Pieces

2010-03-02T23:58:00.000-08:00

I haven't been blogging because I've been trying to figure out how everything fits together so I could present it as a fair and surpassing Whole. But.... well, turns out I'm finite. SO! Having been inspired by Miss Elisabeth to simply string what I've got on a single strand and let you sort it out, here are a couple of few that have surprised me lately:

*The other day (for reasons I will not go into here) I started looking for similarities between Jesus and I. You know, those similarities found by lovers as they compare notes over the same type of coffee in matching mugs. "I love that we're exactly the same!" etc, ad nauseum. Well, other people besides me are like Him too; I'm always falling in love with people for something or other and invariably it's a quality that takes its goodness and origin from the heart of God. So, what in people remind me of Jesus? Take that Miss Elisabeth for example: her staggering tenacity and perseverance through hard things makes me think of Jesus. Blows me away.

*Loving Jesus is like being in a long distance relationship. Which has perks (brilliant love letters) and detractions (can't see Him). I'm really looking forward to seeing Him.

*Compassion is tricky. As I thought about it I realized it takes an act of judgment to show compassion because I first have to determine that someone is worthy of compassion. At first I thought that was a bad thing. But then I realized that making a judgment is a neutral. It's only when condemnation (or unseemly preference) is added to it that it becomes bad. Or when the comparison is only made to myself. If I can learn to compare people to Jesus' "normal" and split the hairs between judgment and condemnation, things would be better. I might learn true compassion.

*I've posted new fun stuff on my art blog. ☺

That'll do for today. More later.

see original post at: Life Below DingleBurn

Taking the Bullet

2010-02-15T11:52:00.000-08:00

Maggie and I spent Valentine's evening at home watching three episodes of Stargate.The collusion of the Trinity as to which episodes gives my sense of story/plotting a visceral buzz. ☺ I am such a girl, and I'm about to give you indisputable proof.

In the second episode, Col. O'Neill and Major Carter had to admit their feelings for each other to literally save their lives. (Ah, to be a television sci-fi writer.) Below you'll find the transcript of F.'s interview with O'Neill regarding an incident that nearly killed him and Carter:

F: "You did everything you could. You couldn't save her."
O: "No."
F: "But you still could have saved yourself?"
O: "I guess."
F: "What happened next? What were you feeling?"
O: "Like someone who was about to die. (Long pause) I didn't leave because I would have rather died myself than lose Carter."

A scene like that pushes every button a girl has. Since it was sort of delicious to contemplate I ran it through the grid with Jesus. (I condense and paraphrase.)

Me: "So why is it every girl would love to hear something like that said about her?"
Jesus: "Good grief, pointless question; you know why."
M: "Yeah, okay. ☺ But I'd still love to hear it about me."
J: "You've heard it."
M: *blink-blink*
J: "Happy Valentine's Day."

Has the impact of Jesus' death ever been lost on you because He died for bazillions of people? I think it's been lost on me my whole life. I've always known I was part of that bazillion, and appreciated it to the point of throwing in my lot with Him. But because of that very idea of a "collective whole" I never felt much like He died for me. It wasn't till I read Frank Viola's comments on Song of Solomon in "From Eternity to Here" that I began to understand the love of Jesus for every individual part of the Bride. Duh. He's a lover after all, and acts like one. (Melissa just wrote a brilliant little exposé on the subject on the LPM blog.)

But obviously I hadn't got it because His comment after Stargate caught me off-guard. Jesus made the very same decision Col. O'Neill made, only He had to go through with it. He died, rather than lose us. Me. Lose me.

What would that look like? What would that feel like? Sounds like? Smell like? I tried to imagine myself on the peak of Golgotha that Friday morning. I kept hearing birds, and the noise of the city behind me, smelling the smoke of the dump just down the hill, seeing the clouds I always imagine preceded the darkness at noon, hearing a distinct lack of dramatic music. Silence. Lots of silence. And breeze.

This is actually an open-ended post because I'm still trying to grasp this. The trouble with my imagination is a.) had I truly been there, I would not have realized He was dying for me [only Caiaphas seemed to understand the substitutionary element pre-resurrection], and b.) oh yeah, the resurrection--I know what happens next. That it's not actually over.

The gift that Stargate episode gave me was vicarious emotion: it's how I should feel about the crucifixion. Reading stuff like this helps put me there, but Jesus knows me, knows my girlish heart, and kindly speaks my language. Over and over and over again. Thanks to stories I am able to better understand, relate to, and therefore appreciate this Guy Who took a bullet for me. I am so grateful. So I respond with my surest sign of affection-- written eulogy. Jesus, You. Are. Amazing.

Warm Fuzzies

2010-01-20T11:32:00.000-08:00

Blogged last night, stayed up too late reading, turned out my light and God said, "Boo!"
Instant download.

Romance.

You're going to keep reading, aren't you? ☺

The download was in question form: why do we think we don't have to work at romance?

If we're of any age in this world we've learned we have to work at loving people. Sometimes it's tough love, sometimes it's sacrificial love, sometimes its I'm-going-to-spank-you-now-so-you-don't-steal-a-car-later love, sometimes it's I'm-going-to-show-you-love-even-though-I-want-to-claw-your-eyes-out love, sometimes it's simple charity, sometimes it's simple courtesy. But we have to think about it, be intentional, be dialed in, being always obedient to the Author and Perfecter of Love.

And then we get to Eros and chuck it. We think it's simply serendipity! That it just happens! Hitch could tell you romance never just "happens," and yet we persist in spending a good chunk of our lives hunting the Snipe of Serendipity and getting frustrated when it proves elusive. Shoot, even Song of Solomon is all about seeking the beloved, chasing, pursuing, all that good stuff.

A friend once told me that Romance is the feeling you got when you know you're special to someone. In one of my favorite books, Indigo tries to decode Special. Turns out it's different for each person, so he learns Special According to Sarah. It involves total intentionality on his part, a thing with which we modern girls seems to have a love/hate relationship. Our culture has taught us to suspect all forms of planning and "plotting" as subtle forms of manipulation-- expressions of romance should fly spontaneously from a "heart full of love," right? This not only discounts the basic differences between the sexes (like, male synapses process complex relationships at a totally different rate than female synapses, and guys like to have a plan-- as my sister said, "So he plans to stop and get you flowers instead of seeing the store on the way-- big deal! You still get flowers!" Thank you, Maggie), it flies in the face of reality. Reality is God did not wake up one day and decided to lavish love on us in the form of Jesus saving us from our sins. He planned that. Like, before recorded history began.

C.S. Lewis wrote a brilliant book on four different kinds of love. The chapter on Eros will curl your hair, make you laugh, and make you think. I need to read it again. Because now I will read it with a different paradigm: if I'm married and not experiencing romance, or even engaged and not experiencing romance, perhaps the problem is not with the Beloved. Perhaps the truth is Romance is work. Just like everything else. And it will not wither on the vine for the fact that we have to figure out what Special is. Does that not actually increase the romance? That someone would expend the energy, risk being wrong, risk looking foolish, risk even displeasure at a failure-- whether in bed or on a date or doing dishes?

It may be counter-intuitive at first because we are so used to bumping into warm fuzzies unexpectedly (and therefore value them for their rarity), but try killing the lie that you have to find the hot-flashes of Romance.

You make them.

More Spaghetti

2010-01-19T23:45:00.000-08:00

So, I walked into a room today and a man involuntarily stood up. And I thought to myself, "Now that's a conditioned response!"
Turned out it was, in that he'd been trained for many years to treat women with deference and respect.

I got to thinking about that. Why do we (or did we) train young men to open doors for the "fair sex," pay for dinner, offer their seats, tip their hats? There may be a lot of reasons, but since I'm a woman and my brain relates everything to everything else, this thought and a killer dvd on marriage I saw the other day got together and informed each other. Basic premise of the dvd in a nutshell is: marriage, like any other relationship, is designed by God to perfect us, to make us more like Him, in short, to make us Holy. It is actually a recent idea (1100 AD actually, seriously helped along by the Romantics of the 1600-1800--- sorry, Bella, this includes Keats) that marriage is the place to find our greatest happiness. I'll butcher it if I keep going-- get the dvd-- I'm serious, do it-- but the practical application of Holiness vs. Happiness is that the focus shifts from What Can I Get Out Of Marriage to, in his words, How Can I Love My Spouse In A Way They've Never Been Loved Before? It's a Give mentality instead of a Get mentality. (Which is awesome, because as Ria put it brilliantly here, the man of our dreams is a figment of our, well, dreams.)
Still with me? So, if this is now a Giving Game, then we girls get to figure out how best to love our men (R-E-S-P-E-C-T, ladies, respect), and you guys get to figure our how best to love us.
Turns out what we desire most is to be valued. Opened doors and the tipped hats project value onto the recipient of the courtesy. Somewhere, somewhen, someone figured it out. (Probably God.) It's marvelous, really, how little has to be done for us to feel we are worth something. It's not about craving special treatment, it's not about thinking we somehow deserve to be worshiped by subservience. It's about kind and gentle behavior because you want us to know you are intent on communicating love in ways we understand. I remember the day I explained to my darling dad that I didn't want flowers because I'm a girl and the culture says guys are supposed to bring me flowers. I wanted flowers because I like flowers. A lot. Some girls don't. I do. That freed him up to Give in the relationship without feeling manipulated by society. Now I need to figure out how he feels loved.

So, end questions: have you noticed how God does this very thing for you? How do you feel loved? What can you do to Give in your many and varied relationships instead of Get? And what does it look like when you do that same thing with God? I'd love to hear people's takes on this.

Edward vs. Reality

2010-01-15T11:01:00.000-08:00

So last night I was dinking around on facebook looking at flair and amusing myself greatly. At least, I was 90% amused, 10% disgusted: there was more Twilight flair per page than anything else! Gag me with a pair of forks! (Oh bother.... ☺)
Of course this actually led to a new ratio: 50% amused, 50% disgusted, 100% intrigued. I have steered clear of Twilight like it was some contagious pandemic, giving it a nod only insofar as I watched the original trailer, read the back of the latest book thinking it would be about the book and not an actual excerpt (more forks, please), heard the plot from Beth, and thoroughly enjoyed the post about the movie by my friend and fellow-bloggette here. I'm intrigued because a.) if so many people agree it's pretty much trash at the least and chick porn at the most, b.) what's the base appeal, and c.) what does it mean?

Obviously, since I'm writing this blog, I think I can answer all three questions. I'm guessing the base appeal, whether it's trash or chick porn, is that here we finally have men. Okay, they're not precisely human men, but that's just the point: a Mormon stay-at-home mom had to invent super-human, pathological, blood-sucking vampires to produce the characteristics women long for in their men every day-- fidelity, protection, desire, ability, perseverance, intelligence.

These are not alien ideas, girls. God thought them up years ago. In fact all of those spring from God in the first place, and He has woven them into His image: humanity. We aren't aberrant to want them. They aren't even unrealistic because God is still in the business of perfecting His children, and though it does seem like there are only a few good men out there, I promise you, they are more prolific than vampires.

Hmm. Looks like it might be time to write that post about imprinting I've been planning for over a year.

Why It's Okay That Everyone Is different

2010-01-08T17:38:00.000-08:00

Or "Making My Peace With That Horrid Diversity Word."
This is a little lengthy. But I will not apologize because, well, you'll have to read it to understand why I don't need to.

So. Pop-culture and politically-correct phrases and ideologies not being my favorite things in the world, I have resisted with strength and vehemence the hot-button "Diversity" word. Drives me nuts. Turns out, though, that our nutty culture didn't invent the idea. They just trampled on a perfectly good and-- wait for it-- Biblical idea.

Over the last two months I've been thinking a lot about my judgmental spirit. I didn't even know I had the disease until recently (please forgive me, human race, and particularly those in it whom I know personally), but once God brought it up, it opened a can of worms not to be ignored. I and most of the rest of the homo sapiens on the planet have long sought to persuade every other homo sapien that our very own positions/beliefs/talents/etc are the best/most useful/most moral/etc. This has produced, over the centuries, denominations, political parties, family feuds, and over 37,000,000 cornbread recipes. It makes feet and noses embarrassed that they aren't hands and eyes, and vice versa. It makes the save-the-whale-ers hate the people-need-to-eat-fish-ers, and vice versa. It makes the Mac users disdain the PC users, and vice versa. It makes the warriors try to convert the pacifists and vice versa. It makes men hugely frustrated with women and women enormously frustrated with men, and vise-- oh wait.

Now, what this blog is not is a "can't-we-all-just-get-along" plea. Nor is it a dismissal of actually sinful behavior.

This blog is a plea for mutual appreciation.

It's rooted in Romans 14 where Paul talks emphatically about convictions. I read it last month and was knocked over by the idea that if there were one best way for God to get something done, He would have made us all that way. For example, the missions-minded Christians who are gifted that way often try to convince the rest of us that if we aren't "going or sending" we're somehow morally deficient. (Find a deft handling of that scenario by Ria, here.) Or, using Paul's own example, vegetarians versus meat-eaters. (No rotten tomatoes, please-- Paul said it, not me!) Fact is, God made both noses and feet. He made both PC and Mac users. He made both pacifists and warriors. He made both men and women, and none are mutually exclusive. They are not wrong, just different. (Thank you, Emerson Eggerich.)

The conclusion He has led me to is that all these areas need to be covered: endangered animals need to be saved, and people still need to eat meat. (Okay, not the vegetarians. Don't lose me here!) Wars occasionally need to be fought, and occasionally people still need to stand by their God-given convictions and not fight. Men need to be able to think deeply in one "box", women need to be able to think broadly about many related subjects at once, without judgment! Not wrong, different! This gives me huge freedom to back off my rabid defense of my position (which is really only insecurity anyway-- fear I might be wrong, fear that if I can't convince you it makes my ideas invalid, fear that somehow my gifts are less than yours) and extend grace-- no, strike that, because that's arrogant-- and take joy in anothers' gifts and convictions and passions. Because it all has to be covered. A wise woman speaking on one of our dvd series at the Care Center says that to the degree we value something, we value those who possess it. If I value money, I'm going to value someone who has it, and de-value someone who doesn't have it. Very quickly my appreciation for God-sanctioned situations go away. Very quickly I'm looking down on those who are louder than me, don't make decisions as quickly as I do, don't write the way I do, don't talk the way I do-- the possibilities seem endless. Every day I make a plethora of arbitrary, me-centered comparisons that completely ignore the fact that God creates the standard, and if someone is not short of it, who am I to say they ought to be other than they are?

The good news, patient reader, is that this knife cuts both ways. If I should not judge others, then I need not be judged by others. I can say with confidence born from conviction, "I'm glad you write short blogs; I'm going to write a long one."

Because God, apparently, likes both.

Practice?

2010-01-06T22:56:00.000-08:00

So there are a lot of blogs I need to write, not the least of which is "Why It's Okay That Everyone Is Different" or "Making My Peace With That Horrid Diversity Word," but today I want to give a shout out to Luke 16.
This year the Lord seems intent on teaching me to do hard things, and persevere in them. Within that context He's already brought a lot of things before my inner eye. I wince a lot these days. And stomp a bit. But a majority of the time I'm trying to agree with Him and obey. It's for my own good, right?

Well, in true God-fashion, there is never just one reason. Besides the obvious benefit to the rest of the Body (whom I hopefully treat better because of all this diamond-cutting), it turns out there is a reason Beyond the Veil as well.

"He who is faithful in a very little [thing] is faithful also in much, and he who is dishonest and unjust in a very little [thing] is dishonest and unjust also in much. Therefore if you have not been faithful in the [case of] unrighteous mammon (deceitful riches, money, possessions), who will entrust to you the true riches? And if you have not proved faithful in that which belongs to another [whether God or man], who will give you that which is your own [that is, the true riches]?" Luke 16:10-12

Mulling it over in that place between asleep and awake, I gathered that all this stuff, this perseverance and doing-hard-things, is practice for Kingdom life. Apparently Jesus uses all sorts of normal, every-day things to relate to normal Kingdom things: if I can't handle money, how do I expect to handle the riches of the kingdom? Pretty cut and dried.
Practice.
Hmm.
Well that more-or-less changes my perspective. Purpose beyond myself, any purpose at all, actually, to these slicings and dicings and shapings of my character, helps incredibly! If I can look forward, beyond the actual moment of refining, to a concrete goal, it makes everything intrinsically more doable. Which the Lord knows, bless Him.

Now, to remember.

P.S. New stuff on my art blog. See the sidebar if you don't have the address.

Finally...

2009-12-19T11:56:00.000-08:00

Part the Third of what has turned into a series. Part One recounted my "Speck-in-the-Grand-Scheme-of-Things" feeling. Part Two recounted my "Apple-of-His-Eye" feeling. Part three here deals with the reconciling of those disparate feelings.

A couple nights ago I found this in Lewis' A Grief Observed:

"Heaven will solve our problems, but not, I think, by showing us subtle reconciliations between all our apparently contradictory notions. The notions will all be knocked from under our feet. We shall see that there never was any problem. . . . . that impression which I can't describe except by saying that it's like the sound of a chuckle in the darkness. The sense that some shattering and disarming simplicity is the real answer."

It's the Stargate paradigm again: we're trying to solve a base-twelve equation using base-eight. What more needs to be said?
Except, Relax!

On the other hand

2009-12-17T17:21:00.000-08:00

....The problem being, of course, that when Jesus talks and does (and remember He's the full explanation of the Father), He talks and acts to and towards individuals. The feeling mentioned yesterday of being a little lost next to the master plan of God, a minor atom in a universe of minor atoms, is really not a nice feeling. As opposed to feeling insignificant and confused in the face of Who He Is, I want to feel insignificant and whole in the face of Who He Is. Freedom and healing, after all, being a primary MO of this Deity, as far as we have been able to determine.

That's another thing: we keep writing books about the ultimate purpose of God, as if everyone else's ideas have somehow fallen short. After all, knowledge keeps accumulating so we should be getting smarter, right? Well, yeah. Unless, of course, we're dealing with an omnipotent, omniscient, self-existent Being who invented the rules we are trying desperately to understand. I'm going to reference Stargate again because it keeps helping. Every time they go to a different planet, they encounter truly alien paradigms. The paradigm may only be a system of government or technology, or then again it may be actual physiology or physics. Often they create problems they don't have the base to fix. (For example, how does one resuscitate an alien who's "heart", it turns out, is not only in the wrong place, but depends on a sonic frequency emitted only by a plant indigenous to his world?) We go blithely about "explaining" God as if we have all the information. We don't. Jesus showed us the Father, and for that I thank Him, but I can't assume that by seeing I suddenly understand.

The grace is that somewhere between our inability to grasp the infinite and the stuff we have learned, He loves us. Individually. He said so. "Cast all your cares on Me," He says, as if He somehow knew we would be bothered occasionally. "I so loved this world that I died to save it. Don't worry that you don't understand it all. I can handle your ignorance."

What a relief.

Pardon Me, Miss, but It's not about you

2009-12-16T23:05:00.000-08:00

So. Chicken fajitas with Staci and Jesus last night. Confession by me of lots and lots of feeling bewildered by life lately. By God, even. What-am-I-doing-wrong feelings keep tangling with Avoidance because Do-I-really-want-to-know feelings are also vying for supremacy.

Into this mental/emotional/spiritual melee dropped this pearl from the Stace (and I paraphrase): we get so focused on discovering God's will for our lives that our perspective, understandably self-centric, blinds us to the larger picture. Which is Bigger Than Us. Instead of looking to the Bible, then, only for answers to the "What does God have to say to me about this situation" questions, we should be opening the pages to see what kind of Person this is that even the wind and the sea obey Him. It's His story, not ours. This unparalleled Book does not hold merely the key to Life, the Universe and Everything, it holds the spelled-out character of God. The Character that, yes, voluntarily adopted us through a heart of staggering love, but which has Its very own plans. Which may or may not include our immediate relief/satisfaction/rescue. (The marvel is that His so-great Love compels Him to be bent by our prayers.)

So when disappointment seems to have got loose like a bull in a china shop, hardships over-run, sorrows threaten, and chaos reigns, please, remember, and remind me, that it is not about bending God to fix what is (or appears to be) broken, but about realizing God will be God, with or without you your consent, and that He is working everything to His own good ends.

P.S. And you can relax about it because I mean it-- they are good ends.

Shoes and ships and sealing wax...

2009-12-16T20:57:00.001-08:00

So I'm sitting there, minding my own business, eating my fabulous shrimp tacos (thank you, Beth), which include (among other things) cabbage. Suddenly this piece jumps out of the bowl, grabs a squad of microphones and starts singing the ooh-aah part for some extra-terrestrial night club act. I mean, honestly, does this not look like four or five alien back-up-singers for the intergalactic chapter of the Supremes?
I've also decided that if I ever need random shapes to make into awesome sketches (and let's face it-- when do I not?), to cabbage I shall turn.

The Recap of Tuesday

2009-12-15T23:36:00.000-08:00

So today I wore my red dancing shoes to work.

That was awesome.

But I also got a wicked new sketch-book, Mom brought me a red rose out of nowhere, and Staci and I got to eat chicken fajitas for dinner with Jesus.

How was your day?

Them's Fightin' Words

2009-12-13T00:40:00.000-08:00

You know that place between the rock and the hard spot? The place where your memory goes spastic and Fight-or-Flight kicks in and you forget that there is nowhere else to go but to the One who has the words of eternal life? Where there is literally nothing left to say? Logic is exhausted. Stimulus ineffective. Warfare availeths nothing. Tears do not relieve. Plans do not carry. Prayers crash against a door of bronze.
Funny thing. I get to that place and I say--

"God, You are good. Thank you. Thank you."

I default to praise.
I never thought before of Job's words, "Naked I came forth from my mother's womb, naked shall I return; blessed be the name of the Lord," as self-defense. But I'm finding they are so.

Lunch at The Brits

2009-12-11T22:50:00.000-08:00

Today, took me to lunch. She brought with her. They wore these: I should have worn these: But I didn't. Next time. And this is Miss Moddy and me. Talk about a good day!

The News from Ethel

2009-12-09T09:47:00.000-08:00

The official word is nine degrees this morning on the Salkum prairie!
Sunny doesn't begin to describe the brilliance.
Fractals of frost on the backs windows.
Dregs of snow gusted into the micro-topography of the yard.
Hot coffee inside.
And though these be the times that try men's soles (the floor is freezing!-- but I just found slippers), why would I trade it! I mean, just look at what God made!

Victory In Jesus

2009-12-04T13:14:00.000-08:00

Allow me a rant. I've not made one in a while.
As I mentioned last night, Dad and I watched Alex Jones' interview with Lord Christopher Monckton on prisonplanet.com yesterday. Lord Monckton, bless him, is our English bulldog in the Climategate ring and will be doing his utmost to save the (relatively) free world from a socialist-world-order-take-over at the Copenhagen summit in a few days.

But even as I listened to that very encouraging interview, as the shattering light invaded the darkest corners of the global warming scam, I was finding it terribly hard to be optimistic. It was feeling dreadfully like too little too late, as if we were waking up the night before he marched into Poland to the fact that Hitler really did mean it.

And then dear Lord Christopher said the following: "Two days after that [the leaking of the CRU emails], President Obama announces, 'Oh, I'm going to Copenhagen-- we've got to save the planet!' What planet is he trying to save? It was saved 2000 years ago, and it certainly doesn't need to be saved now by President Obama, thank you very much." [You've got to hear the accent-- 4:58 min through part two.]

Stop the presses. With the spot-on admission by this scientific brain that the Salvation of the World was not only spiritual but also physical and practical, God revealed to me my unwitting collusion with the faulty theology of the day: i.e., that if this generation fails in guarding the breach, all truly will be lost. The earth will go to hell in a hand-basket, the victory of the cross will be rendered ineffective, and there will be no recovery. People don't often say that-- it's too arrogant-- but it shows up as a subliminal implication, born out of 150 years of Dispensationalism. I've fought that creeping mind-set most of my life, and then found myself blind-sided by it.

All I have to do is look at history-- recent history!-- to be reminded of the truth. We live in the awkward age of mopping up after the victory has been won and declared. If we lose a battle, it does not make the victory less, or God less. This Victor of whom I speak has always kept a remnant to fight tyranny and establish righteousness. All things considered, the 70-year reign of Communism, though horrific, was only 70 years. Hitler dominated for around 10. Egypt kept Israel enslaved for a long 400, but even that was trumped, and trumped spectacularly. Greece fell, Rome fell, monarchical Britain fell, imperial Europe fell, legalized slavery fell. Every system that has ever taken on the Lord of Glory has failed. What makes me think this apathetic, post-modern, death-culture generation will be the last straw?

If I truly believe He has won, and not just in the sense that "When we all get to heaven/What a day of rejoicing that will be/When we all see Jesus/We'll sing and shout the victory," but in the "Your-will-be-done-on-earth-as-it-is-in-heaven" sense, then history will survive Barak Obama, history will survive Climate change, history will survive the Holocaust and the Berlin Wall and Nero and 2012 and asteroids and imposed, dictatorial world-wide government. (Anyone else feel like they're in an episode of Star Trek, by the way? Suddenly that communistic United Federation of Planets that the show assumes is a good thing is trying to worm its way into our reality. Let's hope we take the Stargate approach and say, "Over America's dead constitution.") As dark and scary as it looks from the inside, a global, nay, heavenly, perspective teaches me to leave my pessimism in some insignificant ditch where it belongs.

2009-12-04T12:04:00.000-08:00

I couldn't take it any more: I went back to my old layout. It was like missing my bedroom and I finally had enough of it. Why be annoyed when I can change it with about three clicks? So it's back to neuro-chemically familiar green. Ahhhhhh....

P.S.

2009-12-03T23:40:00.000-08:00

And by way of post script, Dad and I watched the whole hour of the videos in this link and I think you should to. If you have ever valued the relative freedom under which we've lived until recently, read, listen, and then pray and act as the Lord would have you in defense of the lives and freedoms of the poor and "superfluous" of the world. If Climategate is a scam, the light of truth needs to get into all the corners. I will certainly be praying though the Copenhagen summit, which closes the 17th.
(Also, if you're not up on the whole thing, check out Ann Coulter's excellent synopsis in her Dec. 2 article entitled )

"That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness." ~The American Declaration of Independence~

A study in color

2009-12-03T22:16:00.000-08:00

One of the joys of teaching art classes is that I get to see the myriad (I use that word too much-- because I like it) styles that pour out of my students. It's like getting a look at their brains, in color, on a piece of paper. Or their emotions, thoughts, motor skills.... all combined in a glorious array. The best part of that joy is the difference! I can tell their paintings apart like handwriting, like signatures, like fingerprints.
Late last night Jesus thought into my head that His heart holds more art than the world can imagine. In fact, it's taken several thousand years and several trillion people to get it out! This is why our artwork is all so individual: we each possess a different piece of His infinite artistic capacity and it's not till we look at the entire body of human creativity as a whole that we begin to get a clue about what floats God's boat.

So, which piece do you have?

Tuesday

2009-12-01T21:53:00.000-08:00

Things I liked about today:
Clear skies! And the accompanying sun, stars, and brilliant moon.
Listening to clients and having it matter.
That's it's December 1st. I liked that all day.
Selling a print.
Teaching.
Driving 70 mph because I have decent tires again.
Talking to Jesus.
Talking to Dad.
Talking to Lilja.
Texting Maggie.
Cleaning the kitchen.
This.
This.
My green shirt, and my new green scarf, courtesy of Dana. ☺
The new word I just found by misspelling scarf: scark. How great is that?! Let's find out what it means, shall we?
THIS!
The Wizard of Odd.

Things I did not like about today:
Mom, Maggie and Boomer leaving for California. For ten days. Without me. Or Dad, for that matter.

But we shall endure and carry on and enjoy the sun and the moon and green scarves despite ourselves! Because, let's face it, they're hugely enjoyable.

Another Instant Download

2009-11-29T23:37:00.000-08:00

Sudden revelation 14,657: I think I live in trepidation of other people's opinions of me because I know how I measure other people.
That whole "judge not lest you be judged" thing? Yeah, it's true.
Does this mean if I stop judging people they'll stop judging me? Maybe.
More likely it means I'll stop being afraid of their opinions because, by being more firmly attached to God's opinion of people, I'll be awash in the side-affect: myriad colors of grace.
It seems the more I give, the more I get.

My Thankful List

2009-11-26T09:10:00.000-08:00

*Jesus, the Holy Spirit, the Father.
*Dad, Mom, Maggie, Boomer, Daniel, Sarah, Xander.
*The Word.
*Polar Bears.
*Friends who love Jesus.
*Friends who don't love Jesus.
*Paint.
*Books.
*Texting.
*Lacto-fermented peaches.
*Clean socks.
*And sheets.
*Green.
*My siblings.
*New sketch books.
*Old sketch books.
*My daddy's brown boots I wear every day.
*Music.
*Specifically Liddy's cd.
*My grey scarf.
*Language.
*My parents.
*Living in a country with relative freedom.
*Grace.
*Deliverance.
*God's omniscience and total ability.
*Blogger. ☺
*Food. All sorts.
*Things that grow.
*Pictures. Photographs and paintings.
*Photoshop.
*Cuppa Joe.
*The Care Center.
*Did I mention my family?
*That God decided laughter was a great idea and gave it to us.
*SG1 and Voyager. I admit.
*Trees.
*Computers.
*My phone.
*Quilts-- making and using.
*Creativity-- isn't it staggering that we can make stuff up and then turn it into real things?
*Email.
*Glass.
*Drums.
*Our dog.
*Buttons.
*Boys.
*Men.
*Girls.
*Women.
*Fire.
*Fireplaces.
*My room.
*Gypsy waltzes.
*Thanksgiving and March Ultimate.
*Herbs.
*Light.
*White boards with dry erase markers.
*Sand.
*Time.
*Ancient ruins.
*Favorite jeans.
*Carharrt. (Not related to the preceding.) ☺
*Snowboarding. Should have mentioned that earlier.
*Our dining room table.
*Cousins.
*Mountains.
*The oceans.
*Birds.
*Cool hats.
*Frivolous shoes.
*Uilleann pipes.
*Electric guitars.
*Story. Should have mentioned that sooner too.
*Names.
*Wood.
*Boxes.
*Football.
*Great movies.
*Live concerts.
*Being in a band.
*Online banking.
*Quality erasers.
*Glass water bottles.
*Holly.
*And so much more.

A letter

2009-11-22T22:54:00.000-08:00

Dear White Pass,

I hear you were closed today. Because there was too much snow.
I'm delighted about this. I have been thinking of you quite often, and eagerly anticipating our next get-together. I think January will be the first that I am available, but I shall count the days till then. Please, grow colder and whiter, and may your powder multiply like the stars of heaven.

I remain, yours, respectfully, with a snowboard,

Jessie

The Dying Gaul

2009-11-20T17:45:00.000-08:00

I've been reading Pagan Christianity? lately, and while I agree with it and get appropriately riled by it, the book itself admits to presenting only a single side.
The other morning over breakfast, Dad, recounting an History Channel show on the Dark Ages, touched on the other side: the church of that era, though rife with abuses and misconceptions and errors, got one thing really right-- kings were no longer supreme rulers and gods of the known world. Jesus was king, and as such all earthly kings must bow to him.
And then I found a rant in my journal from nearly 18 months ago when I'd read a chapter of How the Irish Saved Civilization, and realized the Lord must be underlining something because I'm starting to see a theme. The rant went something like this:

This is The Dying Gaul, or rather my sketch of the head. I have never been so impressed by a piece of sculpture in my life. It combines all the brilliant craftsmanship and understanding of Greek and Roman art, and leaves out their boring, milque-sop, equine-nosed, lofty-looking, stereo-types. It's Adam on his last gasp, the most perfect example of male physique I've ever seen. It makes me want to clap my hands and say, "See! See!? This is what God was after when He first sculpted man."
Saint Patrick found the Gauls thus: marvelous and dying. They lived in a capricious world where the gods set traps for them. Even the most heroic were doomed before they began. Shape-shifting was an accepted "fact" of life. Human sacrifice (both the noble, selfless variety, and the imposed variety) was the cultural norm. Warfare was esteemed, being the only chance for glory. And they were mighty men. But the gods took and took and took and laughed and changed and laughed and took some more. The people lived with little self-identity and constant fear.
Then Patrick came, bringing a higher "three-faced" God (an established icon of Gaelic culture). He also required blood-sacrifice, but this God took the responsibility, shifted shape into human form, and died Himself. Out of love. And throughout He remained constant and good. Revolutionary!
Oh, and did we mention, Ireland, that this God rules over creation and has beneficent intent toward you? Stop fearing every tree, every storm, every body of water, afraid they are gods in disguise! He has given you authority over them! In fact, if you say to that mountain, "Move!" it will move! And all that warrior mentality you fear will go to waste has a new outlet: fight the old gods of this world (yes, they're real, but there's a new God in town). Yet learn to be a people of peace. No more fear, no more despair.
No more dying Gaul. Living, breathing hope. Because Patrick lived a faith that did not fear the Gauls or their gods or their druids, natural powers, or monsters in the loch. He slept at night in peace and died in peace, having fought the good fight. And that one life lived in faith was enough example for all Ireland, and thence the world. He lived like Jesus.

And look what Jesus did! I'm reading Defeating Dark Angels again. It's all about this. It's about knowing who we are in Jesus, living in faith, without fear of anything this world can throw at us. After all, "neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, will be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 8:38-39 That pretty much covers it.

That's the theme.

Good Grief

2009-11-20T15:32:00.000-08:00

Does anyone else find it hilariously, horribly ironic that our favorite green plastic army men are made in China?

No Buts

2009-11-19T23:42:00.000-08:00

Faith.

Here it is again. Needed. And I am left trying to untangle the equation that humanity has written in desperate self-defense on the walls of an unkind universe: "Trust God. But be wise."
With that "but" the universe grinds to a halt. It's Trust God; no buts. No Buts! Try it some time. See how it goes for you. It's brutal. It's counter-intuitive. It takes practice, and lots of it.
I was driving to work today, my spare tire still demanding I take the beautiful back road, and because I had just talked to my mother about money, I was praying about it. Actually, it was much more involved than that, but this is a public blog. Anyway, yellow leaves were gusting all over the road, the rain was turning on and off like a sprinkler, and I was asking the Ancient Young Man riding shotgun in my cluttered front seat if He'd be willing to provide me with a.) more money, or b.) more art students. I even had a scenario by which I thought that end might be accomplished.
But in-between that and praying for the harried and hurting people I love, we talked about this thing He's been trying to impress upon me lately: that no matter what the circumstances, no matter what the world looks like from inside this cave with the pin-hole window, He is Good, and whatever He does will always be Good. No buts. Ever.
Then tonight I got home, ate some pasta, watched some Stargate, decided to launch a wedding coordinating business, and read some of my favorite blogs. Low and behold, Emily wrote about the same thing. So I'm linking to it. Go read it. At least the quotation at the end. But read the rest too. She's a brilliant writer. And she has four kids under six. (I'm just saying these are not mutually exclusive ideas.)
...................................... Done yet?

"She merely believed, and it came to pass." I would like that to be how my brain works. Every day. All the time. No buts.

By the way, that Ancient Young Man answered my request, both a and b, in the affirmative. He was even wry enough to do it the way I'd suggested.

So. Tomorrow's going to be good too.

Amazing Grace

2009-11-14T00:58:00.000-08:00

Stargate and theology keep running head-long into each other these days. Most recently it's this thought: the Stargate paradigm has the good guys and the bad guys evolving in their separate moral states. The Goa'uld evolve from the primordial soup totally evil; Mankind evolves from the primordial soup basically good.
Then I look at the Real World and notice a couple of things: the actual tendency of Mankind is to devolve into Goa'uld-like behavior. When left to ourselves we spiral down, not up. Every form of life on Earth plays it out in microcosm or macrocosm. The Law of Entropy goes one way, and one way only.
Based on that Law and observable past consistencies, we should all be Goa'ulds by now.
But we're not.
And this is where the Stargate paradigm (and post-moderns in general) get confused. They assume that since we haven't all descended into Hitler-esque behavior, we must have started out good. But then they have a little trouble with that darn Law of Entropy again, and what to do with Hitler. The show (and much of our culture) seems to ignore the discrepancy. But there are enough incongruities to convince me that Something Else must have happened.
The most logical answer is that Mankind started out as evil as the Goa'uld, but that many were rescued. Enough, in fact, to set up safe societies, just laws, soup kitchens. (This even happens in the show-- the good guys just can't quite help saving what so obviously needs saving, even from an "accident of evolution".) Basically the fact that we are not all miniature Hitlers and Maos and Stalins allows me to work backwards and add credence to my existing belief: "I am a great sinner and Christ is a great savior."
If the writers of a show which specifically depicts the battle between good and evil were intellectually honest, they would have given up by now; they would all be writing cheap horror scripts in the back of some trailer and getting drunk by ten in the morning. But they aren't. Any more than the average person turns into a Hitler. Because not very far below the surface resides that core-deep belief that there is a Creator, and that He is good. They can't escape it.
Because the clever Man put it there.

Should have been sleeping......

2009-11-13T23:56:00.001-08:00

So I was just bopping around google images looking for Pangolins (because I saw it here on YouTube-- watch them all), when I found this: And now I want one. I don't even care if this is faked; God can make that. Probably did. Can I put it on my list for the New Heaven and the New Earth? The caption I found here said, "This is Argentavis magnificens, a huge extinct bird from Argentina. It took off by running with its wings open (instead of flapping) because of its massive size. The rabbits must have been big back then, too." This is what Wikipedia had to say about it, though you know Wikipedia. (All images pinched from whoever posted them on Google. Thanks for sharing.)

P.S. You should really look up those Pangolins.

♫ I saw the snow cease all its falling/Beaten back by their sweet song ♫

2009-11-10T23:47:00.000-08:00

I love the date today. I collect cool ones like this. I mean what isn't great about 11-10-09?

In other news, Jesus keeps mumbling things into me dreams. Sometimes I wish He'd speak more loudly, but this way I have to hunt, and I think that may be His point. This morning it was about music. Yesterday it was about reality, and both days the moment I rolled over and picked up my Bible He opened it to a relevant verse without my help. Show off. *twinkle* But I love it when He does that.

Back to music. Stewing about in my dreams was a mess relating to String Theory, which I wrote about formerly here. (It would probably help you understand the rest of this if you read it. I'll wait.) ......................................... Also jumbled up with String Theory was the memory of our recent concerts, a lyric I'm writing, 2 Chronicles 20:20-23, and tuning. The half-formed thought I had to hunt down when I woke up went something like this:

If God is continually singing the universe into existence, isn't it likely that things-- people, nations, circumstances, you, me-- could be out of tune with Him? I mean, if one side of the "melody" is Perfect, isn't the likelihood of our imperfect natures creating a dissonance in contrast extremely, well, likely? If we rebel against the song, go our own way as Fleetwood Mac suggests, we can expect it to be another lonely day. Outside the Divine Chord is desolate discord.
So, like a fiddle at 40-degrees-below, we need constantly to be tuned. The thought for the day was how. And this is where the verse He dropped on me came in. (You'll have to make a jump with me though; I simply hypothesize.) I flipped straight to Col. 3:16, which is "Let the word [spoken by] Christ (the Messiah) have its home [in your hearts and minds] and dwell in you in [all its] richness, as you teach and admonish and train one another in all insight and intelligence and wisdom [in spiritual things, and as you sing] psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, making melody to God with [His] grace in your hearts."

Follow: if the songs of the children of Israel helped route their enemies, if it's true like my lyric purports that evil can be beaten back by "sweet song", if good things happen when believers get together and make righteous music, if we can actually make melody in our hearts out of His grace (!), might not singing righteous songs helps retune us to the Creator? We know unrighteous music can allow the enemy into places he found previously inaccessible; could not good music gives God access to places we had previously refused Him entrance? Is music really that powerful? Once, those same children of Israel bowed down to Hathor, the Egyptian cow goddess of "sex, drugs and rock'n'roll," to borrow a paraphrase. We know that as all hell broke loose at the foot of Mount Sinai, (among other things) they sang. Discord erupted. And Moses smashed the newly-minted Word of God in disgust. Major stuff. When Israel rededicated Jerusalem under Nehemiah, they walked around the walls and sang, weaving into the bricks and mortar, as it were, a harmony with their God. Those walls stood, if I'm remembering correctly, till Israel rejected their Savior and Rome razed the City of Peace to the ground nearly 500 years later. Angels announced the birth of that same Savior with singing. Apparently even the cornerstone of the earth was laid with the songs of the morning stars (Job 38:6-7).

I wish I had remembered that all day; I could have used it, considering how jangled I felt. I think I'll get a little sing-along in before bed and call in another lovely day.

Stargates dial Jesus, apparently

2009-11-08T23:57:00.000-08:00

I watched Stargate all day; it's all I felt like doing. The only thing you need to know about it for this blog is that the bad aliens have a kind of power that enabled them long ago to step into the personas of the ancient gods and rule people. Sort of took our "myths" and ran with them. The show follows a team of four intrepids who run around the galaxy fighting these guys, and watching reminds me that a.) there's a lot of universe out there, and b.) there's a lot of evil out there.
And then tonight as I was reading John with all that stewing in the background of my mind, I got to 15:33: "I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."

Wow. Big word, overcome. It's a Greek one, νικάω, meaning "to subdue (literally or figuratively): - conquer, overcome, prevail, get the victory."

If you could see the pictures in my mind it would make more sense. There I see the world from space. All around it and through it like overlays of film I see the many stories of Stargate, and our own history. It's all in motion, epic battles between good and evil, civilizations rising and falling based on their beliefs and the will of God, oceans and sand and stars. It's color and time-lapse and darkness all at once. And then two contexts emerge like alternate time-lines. In one, the God-less universe of Stargate where mankind is our own greatest hope, and victory and defeat are only one lucky guess or one false step away; in the other, the only All-Powerful Being, by some miracle, is GOOD. He placed the sun and the moon in the sky with His own hands (have you ever actually read Gen. 1:17?), and then when His greatest creations destroyed His world and chose to follow a false god, He came down, became one of us, and beat the devil. I need to be reminded of this often. Stargate gives me a coveted perspective: that of being outside this daily life, which tends to get myopic. But from that vantage point I see much more than their little plot lines. I see that our story, our true history, is ever so much more exciting and perilous and real. And so is our God.

He has overcome the world: what a truth to build a life on!

Cool free stuff

2009-10-30T17:39:00.000-07:00

Maggie brought me home a huge, old, ugly piece of artwork that I can cannibalize. I get to paint BIG. And reuse the frame. Which makes me ridiculously happy.
I really love that sister of mine.

♪♫♪♫♫♪♪♪

2009-10-25T23:01:00.001-07:00

I woke up this morning feeling rested for the first time in... well, pick a number. I have taken my sleep for granted, it turns out, all my life. No more. I've felt so good these last 12 hours that I've wanted to blog all day. But no matter how much I've wished I could collect my thoughts into a genius stream of profound theological insight, I've ended up just feeling happy and "un-deep". I even tried an acrylic painting tonight that failed for the most part and I didn't mind. I hopped over to odosketch to refine it.
Here's the list of why I'm so chipper besides the sleep factor:

*We've had two epic ♪♫concerts♪♫ in the last 10 days. The first was outside in the face of pouring rain-and-thunder-and-lighting that stopped as soon as we began to play (as I knew it would). We had bonfires and pie and about 120 people, and there was an umbrella hung over the cellist (on the covered stage) and I got to be the "guest artist" and sit on the stage in a blue, overstuffed wing-backed chair and draw. None of us got electrocuted, as Dale (justifiably) feared we might, and Safe Family Ministries came away with a few more dollars and a few more donations. Last night we got to play our first-ever concert INSIDE and had just a screaming-good time while Love INC put on a lovely auction. I also got to wear my RED BOOTS. For the first time at a concert. They make me feel like less of a poser. (No fooling, they truly are that color.)

*I finished a painting. But I can't show anyone yet because I have to send it to the people it's for first. Then I'll post it. Anyway, I like it.

*Speaking of my own paintings that I like, I finally sorted out the process of making prints, and now any painting of mine of which I have a digital copy and permission to reproduce can be sold to anyone who wants one, and that means that Stargazer is finally going out to all those who wanted one, and my good friend Liddy bought the one I'd donated to the auction and that delights me exceedingly.

*I sold a book on amazon marketplace which turned out to have been bought by the mother of a friend I haven't talked to in ten years. Now we're friends on facebook. ☺

*The Lord has been handing me all sorts of new and exciting (and terrifying) responsibilities, but He's also the one responsible and is handling it. Let's just say it involves me walking out some of the stuff for which He gave me a heart seven years ago, and which I haven't seen come to fruition much... until this last week. Most likely more on that later.

*I got to talk to my best friend today. Always a good idea.

Yes, I know this blog is taking a page out of Ria's and Bella's book, but they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. So. And cheerful, non-life-and-death stuff makes a nice change.☺

Twin Towers

2009-10-15T23:44:00.000-07:00

Twin revelations today, actually received in reverse order of that set down here.
*From Dad at the dinner table: If we are worried-- about anything-- it's because we have leaped to the erroneous conclusion that we are ultimately responsible for the success (or failure) of something. Our disappointment, or even despair, over a situation means at the core we believe it is our fault.
~Truth: God alone is responsible for "raising up and setting down." We can obey or disobey, but He has said He is the end of the line. The buck stops with Him. I'm not making up comforting theology. He said it. In many ways (Ps. 81:10, Rom. 8:28-29, Phil. 1:6, etc...)
*From God in a two-second download on the way to work: If I never get married it's not because there is something intrinsically wrong with me. It's not because I'm unworthy. It's not my fault. He is simply raising up or setting down. And what I'm doing with my life is valid. Because it's following Him.

This takes more pressure off than I can say. Or will say in a public blog. ☺ I am so grateful that He teaches and loves us even when we've been foolish or prideful or plain bad all in one day.... often the same day we've been wise and humble and good. What a mixed bag we humans are. Amazing creatures.
More amazing God.

Consistent

2009-10-14T22:07:00.000-07:00

I'm ridiculously tired, but this thought won't let me go to bed until I scratch it down:
*My life is the only norm I have ever known. And it's a brilliantly wonderful norm. Sometimes God even lets me realize it.
*Other people have hellish norms. But often they don't see it because it's their norm.
*I can see that their lives are different from mine.
*But there is a disconnect when I think about the reverse. I expect to need to explain how my life is different from theirs. As if they wouldn't be able to see the difference for themselves. "How could they?" I reason, "This is just normal. Nothing special, nothing noticeable."
*This makes my approach to "evangelism" much more labor-intensive.
*Last night at Pray Lewis County the Lord cut right through all that.
"They can see the difference. Just like you can."
Well.
This makes my approach to "evangelism" much easier.
Okay, "easier" might be too strong a word.
What it means is my one and only job is to be consistent. Consistent in who I am, consistent in my integrity, consistent in righteousness, consistent in moving further up and further in with the Lord. The difference, He tells me, will be noticeable. Follow Him, and let the chips fall where He puts them. After all, we may well be the only example of Truly Normal the world will ever see.
Sounds as if I live like Jesus I won't have too much 'splainin' to do.

One Grecian Tree....

2009-10-13T23:31:00.001-07:00

One of the only perks to having a friend live as far away as Turkey.....

...........

2009-10-12T15:25:00.000-07:00

Does anyone else like stomping on egg cartons? I do.

Blogging

2009-10-11T16:22:00.000-07:00

I love blogging. A good blog can make a bad day much, much, much better. It's like organizing the junk drawer or washing down white cabinets after three months of not doing it. Reading a good blog is just as good. Three of my favorites lately have been this one, this one, and this one. Em and I have been friends for nine years. (Nine years?!) That was post-high-school but pre-husband/children for her and post-Missouri and pre-watercolor for me. We have enjoyed a delightful amount of life together; I love her children and she loves my paintings. We both love shoes and fabulous clothes (but she gets to wear them because she knows how), and sometimes we quilt together (yes, I know mine's not done yet.... I'm missing a critical piece. And I don't know what it is).
Ria and Bella are sisters. I've never met them, and I'm not even sure why Ria goes by Ria. I hope to meet them soon because I have fallen in love with their lives-- frankly because they are so much like mine. They say things the way I wish I could say them sometimes, but I say them this way, and that's okay.
Today I have a headache. I think I know why, but that doesn't help much. Hopefully I'm going to redesign my blog layout later (often as good as blogging, sometimes better), and read Inkheart some more. The stage for Friday's concert is now painted (thanks to Andrew, Dad and Maggie), and the wheels of publicity have been set in motion. Now we keep praying and see what happens.
Stephanie sent me this yesterday and I laughed because I have always suspected real life was a musical. Now it's proven incontrovertibly.
In other news, I went swinging yesterday and didn't get sick. This was a miracle. Thank you, Jesus. I loved it.

Seeds

2009-10-02T12:05:00.000-07:00

"But seek His kingdom, and these things will be added to you. Do not be afraid, little flock, for your Father has chosen gladly to give you the kingdom." -Luke 12:31-32

I confess that I began studying the Kingdom for the mercenary reason that lately "these things" have been in short supply. Or it's felt like it. From a purely factual standpoint that's grossly inaccurate, but emotionally.... the demon Worry knows no such reassurance.
Fortunately God is capitalizing on my humanness and taking me through the Parables for His own inestimable purposes. We started with the first one, the Parable of the Sower. It's the longest, and most expounded upon, a sort of easing into the mysteries with which He's about to riddle us. I looked up "Kingdom". Pretty straight forward. It means a realm. I looked up "Seed". Ah. Here was something interesting. Turns out the Greek for Seed means essentially sperm, with all the connotations of "being scattered" and "growth" and "offspring" attached. But Jesus says right off that in this case "Seed"=The Word of the Kingdom.
In a rapid cascade of understanding I gleaned this: the news of the Kingdom, i.e., the Word of God, is alive and active (as has been said before by actually-published personages), and, I conclude, therefore capable of begetting new life. Whole new "plants" as it were, which are themselves capable of begetting new life. (Ain't it fun to think of yourself as a "plant" in the kingdom of God?☺) It's as if we start as ground being seeded with the news of this Kingdom, we grow, the Seed produces fruit which is more Seed and viola! Suddenly we are the news! The Kingdom preached has come and it is us. Therefore in our telling of the Good News to others we invite them into a living, breathing body, a happenin' reality, of which they become the latest living part. Think about it! Wouldn't you rather be given an actual new life complete with a Great Constant and purpose and security and hope than simply fire insurance? What are we offering people? An alternative way of carrying on, or Life?!
I have no deft conclusion-- only a giant "Huzzah!" shouted in the face of all that would discourage me.

God vs. Satan: God wins

2009-09-30T21:21:00.001-07:00

For whatever reason, dinner around the table tonight was great. It usually is, but occasionally an evening rises above. The round-robin subject in this instance was Story. We started with Stargate and Star Trek: Voyager and from those somewhat dubious-examples extracted this truth: It ain't over till the good guys win.
I have to blame this on God because if humanity was left to itself we'd all end up like Stephen King. But because God has been raising up "good guys" to carry on the fight for so long now, it has become our norm. (Credit to Boomer for that one.) Deep down we know there is always an act three, there is always a resistance, the bad guy never actually wins. Cynics will try to convince us that "Not all stories are happily-ever-after" and then write plays like Glass Menagerie. But we know better. And so do they. If the bad guy is winning the story can't be done. In the end, morality does sell, and only good vs. evil keeps people coming back for centuries.
So my challenge to you is Why buck reality? Write a happy ending.

Unity

2009-09-28T21:17:00.000-07:00

I've been learning a lot about "unity" in the body of Christ lately. (I'll save for another blog the reasons that word irritates me.) Yesterday Staci dropped this little gem into the mix:
The point of breaking down the walls between the members of the body is not so that we can compromise to some middle-ground, but so that we can finally see the glory of the differences. If I don't talk to a fellow believer, how will I know how amazing there are? And since we are totally unique, their amazingness it going to be totally different from my amazingness. And all of it is needed. Maybe unity is simply acknowledging and giving play to the God-light in each of us.

Constant

2009-09-27T21:31:00.000-07:00

Fish and chips tonight at Doogers. This came up:
What is your greatest talent? What, in a moment of brutal honesty, would you admit defines you? I would have to say it's something I take for granted: my brain. I'm used to being able to think and to think rationally. (Most of the time. No comments please.☺) What if I couldn't? What if I was injured or got dementia and couldn't make a reasonable decision? So my defining strength is also my greatest insecurity.
Pause. Jesus will never change. Jesus will never suddenly tire of me and leave. The greatest thing that actually defines me is the Great Unchangeable I AM. The world has nothing like this. No constant. No surety. Of anything! Can you imagine living like that?! I find myself running to the Bible these days just because I know it's true! So much in my daily life is suspect. I was reminded of this by a similar subject I found while rereading my journal last night: why do I place such stock in the opinions of man when they could be completely incorrect in their opinions about me? Only God's opinions are correct. Of me, and everything else. And He won't change.
Selah.

Building Proper Defenses

2009-09-26T13:33:00.000-07:00

Reading Nehemiah this morning.... which I love. It was always pretty good, then Bald Eagle taught it at Camp and it got better. Today it reminded me of something I know. But which I frequently forget. These cheeky Israelites are so dang sure God will defend them. They bet on it. With their lives. They forge ahead with a sword in one hand and a brick in the other and whistle their way through the tasks and terrors of the day because they know God will be on their side. They knew they were the people of God! "Well," I reason, "I can't pray/act with the same certainty because these days it might not be His will to swoop in and defeat our enemies, whether bills, disease, peril or sword. Things aren't the same as they were in the Old Testament." To paint a picture, Nehemiah looked up from his dusty work and raised a prophetic eyebrow at me. Because it's not about that. It's about the Covenant Partner thing of Psalm 81:10-- "I, the LORD, am your God, Who brought you up from the land of Egypt; open your mouth wide and I will fill it." Maybe that is Old Covenant (the actual name of the Old Testament), but the New Covenant says, "Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened. Or what man is there among you who, when his son asks for a loaf, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, he will not give him a snake, will he? If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give what is good to those who ask Him!" We are now the children of God, not just the people of God. I need to remember the reality of the relationship. It's not about His will-- it's about His promising to be Papa, to come to bat for us even when we've blown it, to feed us when we're hungry, to clothe us when we're cold, to give us rain when it is needed and sun when we can't take the rain any more. We presume too little on this relationship I think. Not too much.

New Blog!

2009-09-14T09:54:00.000-07:00

Just a note to say I've finally started the art blog I've been intending for months to launch. You can find it at http://artbelowdingleburn.blogspot.com. I'm still trying to find the control that lets me invert the posting order-- oldest posts are at the top, so scroll down. (If anyone knows where to find it, let me know. I've looked everywhere. Maddening, because I know it was an option while I was setting it up.)

Goose on the Loose

2009-09-12T23:20:00.000-07:00

*Conversation overheard on a pond between I-5 and the Exit 77 on-ramp.

(Excited flapping of wings and schloppy slapping of webbed feet.) "Hey guys, guys! You'll never guess what just happened! I was crossing the overpass up there and I was texting Mallard to tell him to wait to start diving till I got here and all of a sudden this CAR jumps right out in front of me-- and I couldn't stop, I tried, I really did, but I just ran right into it-- and it was terrible, people were screaming-- in fact they were already screaming before I ran into them-- anyway, it must have been okay because it started off again, weaving a little, but I think it will be all right-- Good grief, I haven't had that much adrenaline since hunting season!"

*Conversation overheard on an overpass at Exit 77 on I-5.

Everyone but Mom: "Red light!!"
Mom: "Oh! Oh! Ah!" (speeding up then slowing down)
Everyone but Mom: "This next one is green, you can keep going!"
Boomer: "Goose!"
Most Everyone: (thinking he was being a little fresh) "Huh?
EVERYONE: "GOOSE!!!"
near halt on the overpass
Mom: "A--a goose, just walked into out tire!"
Everyone but Mom: "Ha! Goose! What? Good grief! What?!"
hysterical laughter as goose walks off unharmed
continued driving
Everyone: (with growing incredulity) "A goose! We were just hit by a goose! IT hit US! I bet it was texting and not paying attention...."

True story, folks. At least the second bit. ;-)

Grafitti

2009-09-09T13:29:00.000-07:00

Question: Why graffiti?

Perhaps I'm over-simplifying.

Prisoners since the dawn of time have drawn or written on the walls of their cells. Castaways have made frivolous, beautiful things even before they were sure they would survive. The unemployed have for centuries resorted to playing music on street corners. People lost in a crowded society spray paint train cars and the undersides of bridges. Every flat surface, whether a wall, a sidewalk, a beach, or a soul, becomes a canvas for the down-and-out. Why?

Dad and I have been contemplating this. Pretty much ever since he said, "Creativity makes me feel human." I have a theory.

When we have nothing left, we default to our essence. God was alone when He created life, the universe and everything. Out of [everything-He-is] + [nothing] He created... something. And then He passed the gene on to us. Since He is Ultimate Reality, and since out inherent, genetic impulse to create come from Him, we feel real, valid, when we follow in His creative footsteps. We always carry us with us: regardless of having to procure the tools of our trade-- pens, paper, paint, instruments, thread-- the artwork is in us. It's self-contained. We alone can do what He has gifted us to do, even if that gift works best in tandem with others'. Only we have our eyes. Our experiences.

Everyone instinctively understands this. Which is why there will always be coins in the hat and websites like Elfwood and communities like Etsy, and groups like Rosie and the Posers. And why it will always destroy us like nothing else when people tear down our art. I don't mean constructive criticism, which we all need if we are shooting for excellence. I mean the voices that say "creativity is not a necessity," "you could never be an artist!" and "that's stupid."

Not sure that I have a specific point here. Just a statement. And an injunction to look out for graffiti.

Confession

2009-09-02T15:10:00.000-07:00

So Jesus was being creative on Saturday. I felt pretty okay in my own skin for once, and while feeling thus, someone noticed and said I looked it. I'm sure it was the grace of God and what I was wearing, but I did feel sure of myself. Wrongly, perhaps, because I think I was trading on my "legitimacy" as an "art teacher" (ha!) and a volunteer; when I'm talking with important people my survival mode kicks in and I react by gently highlighting my own validity. Which seems a reasonable reason for Jesus not letting me curl up with and enjoy that compliment like He usually does. It was still niggling me later that night as I got to the place I'd left off in Ezekiel.

Turns out it was my favorite chapter; you know, the one that casts Israel as the baby girl God finds in the field, wallowing in her own afterbirth, bloody, unwashed, and unloved? Chapter 16. Yeah, so I get to verse 14 and this is what I find:
"Then your fame went forth among the nations on account of your beauty, for it was perfect, because of My splendor which I bestowed on you..."
I had begun to suspect as much but this stated it concretely: just like food, clothing, shelter, salvation and the fruit of the Spirit come from Him, so does our beauty. And I'm talking specifically about physical beauty.
This created twin explosions in my brain.
Number 1: just like the following verse says ("But you trusted in your beauty..."), if we begin to believe our beauty is our own, to trust in it, to rely on it, to trade on it, begin also to expect an overthrow. Just like Israel.
Number 2: if my beauty comes from God alone..... I don't have to worry about it! I don't have to be concerned about where it's going to come from or if it actually exists any more than I have to worry about where my next meal is coming from or if clothes for tomorrow actually exist. I can relax!

And that, my friends, is a beautiful thing.

Concerts , cucumbers, and love, actually

2009-08-04T22:09:00.000-07:00

Three lessons this week-- well, Saturday to Tuesday. Whatever you want to call that.
1. Via the experience of the first Rosie and the Posers concert on Saturday, I came to feel the event had a coordinator. We could ask this coordinator questions like, "Okay, what next?" "Where should this go?" And state things like "We're out of this." "So-and-so needs this much of that." And then expectantly await the answer. Which always came. It wasn't our job to make everything work! Hallelujah and praise Jesus!!! Since then my propensity to worry has dropped off dramatically. Lesson: it's not my gig. I'm not in charge. It's Somebody else's problem. And He's not sitting there with a Cheshire grin saying, "What now?"
2. I took a very small lemon cucumber to work with me for lunch. I ate it with my tuna and when it was gone I thought, "Oh. I love lemon cucumbers. I wish that had lasted longer." Three hours later when I was hungry and groggy, my dear sister-in-law stopped by, handed me a bag from the farmer's market and said, "Hungry?" In it were snap peas, beans, and-- yeah-- a lemon cucumber bigger than a regulation baseball. I rolled my eyes and He grinned at me. He pays better attention than my mother! Lesson: nothing is impossible. He can pull lemon cucumbers-- or nation-wide transformation-- out of thin air.
3. During in-service training at the Care Center this evening, "Love never fails" was quoted from Cor. 13. Now maybe I'm just dumb, but for my entire life, I have taken that to mean, "If you are loving correctly, it won't fail. If failure happens, you weren't loving correctly." It was a negative. But tonight God snapped something in my brain and suddenly I was looking at it the right way round: "love doesn't ever not work. Love always works! It never fails." It's a promise. Lesson: even though lately the emphasis has been on faith, it does say the greatest of faith, hope and love is love. And if love always works (never fails), I can see why it's the greatest. And I can see why Jesus says the greatest commandment is to love the Lord and your neighbor as yourself. And I can see why He makes a point of making a new commandment to love each other. And I can see why we shall be known as Christians by our love. It always works.

So. When in doubt, love. Believe Him. It will work.

Things Pictorial

2009-07-27T14:55:00.001-07:00

Proving that I can in fact keep my word to my handful of readers, I have hunted up the promised pictures and post them here with (hopefully) brief descriptions.This is the happy couple cutting their delicious cheesecake. Just imagine trying to feed that gooey mess to each other... Then we have the bouquet (mine in this case, though Carriann's was exactly the same only bigger and with dangling black and white ribbons) in a semi-lovely composition. Next is the common boutonniere-- one white orchid on an unnamed houseplant leaf. Going back two days we have the Boulder Tea House, an East Indian affair with high ceilings, carved pillars, and stunning artwork that would not photograph well at all. Blegkth. Finally there is the rock I bought at Pirate Daze called Crazy Lace. I have no idea what sort of rock it is, but it looks like frost patterns and a slice of cave and a little petrified wood and all sorts of wonderful things. There are a myriad of colors in it, and I keep it as a reminder that only God is in on the secret of what hides inside rocks and only He can reveal their treasures. And the same is true for people.

I shall elaborate on paintings and prayer later.

Of Recent Happenings

2009-07-27T00:03:00.001-07:00

It is very late and I should be in bed. But I've just been poking around my two favorite blogs (If I've Told You Once and The Great Griffith Caper) and am feeling inspired by witty brevity and photographic proof of my own existence. Sometimes you can't fit everything in a facebook status. So it goes like this:

1. Jesus has taken over my painting instruction and together we produced this: (more story about this in a later blog)

It was a picture He put in my head and then pulled out of my fingers and we call it Stargazer. Apparently she climbed this ladder and took a star from the heavens to study it more closely. Then we did this for the art schedule poster for Book n' Brush (where I teach watercolor):Again, more on that later. I should start an art blog....

2. I've begun meeting once a week with fellow believers of all ages and stages to pray for our county. We move around to the hot spots in town and cover them and do warfare and revel in how great our God is. I should elaborate on this more at a later date as well, but I have started a blog for that: Pray Lewis County. Here's us at the court house one gorgeous summer evening:3. I went to Colorado on Wednesday to do flowers for and be in the wedding of my dear friend Carriann Apple-cum-Hartly. It was lovely, and if it weren't so late I'd figure out how to get pictures from my recalcitrant camera to this post. As it is, just imagine red roses so dark they are headed towards black, white orchids, and black ribbon loops. I also got to see darling Sarah Yeamens before she leaves for Sweden for two months, and she was kind enough to drive me all around Denver. Which, I discovered, I can see all of from highway 470, unlike the hill-surrounded metropoli of the northwest. It grows like a stalagmite out of the prairie before the Rockies arrive to save it from an isolation too complete to endure. Highlights: high tea at the Boulder Tea House (pictures coming), meeting Leigh and Mitch Bolton, the bride surging the hem of my dress ties the day before her wedding, cheese cake instead of wedding cake, watching the flower girl teach a pint-sized little man how to dance with her, and the incredibly cool woman (Cathy) I met on the plane coming home with whom I talked Jesus for two hours straight, told stories of His amazingness, and who prayed for my throat which was starting to hurt. It has since recovered.

4. About 15 of my facebook friends are pregnant. Just wow.

5. Worked on my car again and discovered..... well, we'll see if what we think we discovered was accurate or not.

6. Saw my sister and two of her friends off on another excursion aboard the Lady Washington, and bought a rock at Pirate Daze in Westport. Pictures forthcoming (of the rock)! Here are pictures of Maggie and the boat:

Things I have not done this summer include camp (sad), VBS (also sad), learn to play the squeeze box (this is definitely on my to-do list), and not see my best friend. :-)

These are the bare bones. Now I'm going to bed.

Legion

2009-06-06T09:43:00.000-07:00

I had a horrid dream last night and woke up gasping for the safety of Jesus. I rolled over and grabbed my Amplified Bible, which is usually no more than three feet away from the middle of my bed, and flipped open to the place I left off yesterday.
Typical Jesus, it was one of my top five favorite stories.
More typical, He showed me all kinds of stuff I'd never seen before.
^"1They came to the other side of the sea to the region of the Gerasenes. ²And as soon as He got out of the boat, there met Him out of the tombs a man [under the power] of an unclean spirit. ³This man continually lived among the tombs, and no one could subdue him any more, even with a chain; ⁴for he had been bound often with shackles for the feet and handcuffs, but the handcuffs of [light] chains he wrenched apart, and the shackles he rubbed and ground together and broke in pieces; and no one had strength enough to restrain or tame him. ⁵Night and day among the tombs and on the mountains he was always shrieking and screaming and beating and bruising and cutting himself with stones. ⁶And when from a distance he saw Jesus, he ran and fell on his knees before Him in homage, ⁷and crying out with a loud voice, he said, What have You to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? [What is there in common between us?] I solemnly implore you by God, do not begin to torment me! ⁸For Jesus was commanding, Come out of the man, you unclean spirit! ⁹And He asked him, What is your name? He replied, My name is Legion, for we are many."
(Thank you Bible Gateway.)
I learn so much more when I imagine things out. So there's Legion, naked and filthy, nails, long and cracked and black, blood, fresh and dried all over his body, sores from his chains, gashes from stones, hair, long and greasy, eyes like empty windows for an evil world to peer through. I imagined the twelve, justifiably nervous (after all they believed in that stuff, even if we more enlightened folks are a little skeptical). But then Jesus got out of the boat. I'm thinking impetuous Peter, and John, the teen-aged young buck, probably bailed out with Him. I was imagining the others hanging back till I realize, "Hey, these are guys. They're not going to get shown up by the kid and the fool." So they probably got out too. Thirteen men on a rocky beach facing the screaming, slobbering stuff of nightmares. (Strangly applicable to me at that moment.)

*Interjection*
Yesterday was my mother's birthday (I love you, Mom), and we celebrated by spending the day at the lake with good friends and boats. Eight kids, two dogs, lots of water and pebbly beaches produced the natural result: rock tossing. Of course a couple of them wound up in my pockets, where they remained till I got them home and into my collection. Which I showed off with delight and reminiscences-- and theological ponderings. I've been contemplating lately the sheer magnitude of God's extravagance in that He makes and knows the location, history, and potential of every single piece of boulder/stone/gravel/sand on the planet. We pass them by because there are so many and they all look pretty much the same. But what is inside? What happens if they get polished? Or cut? Wonders. That's what.
My ponderings asked, "So why should it be any different with people?"

*Back to Legion*
Apparently the first thing Jesus did was start ordering out the demons. This is evident because the demons tell Him to knock it off. I find it instructive and encouraging that Jesus did not wait for anyone to ask Him for deliverance for this poor guy. He just goes for it. Bulldozer style. I bet John was pleased. That was the first thing that got me: it didn't take someone else's compassion to incite Jesus to compassion. Just like with the widow from Nain and her dead son. When Jesus landed on the beach, He didn't see a nightmare. He looked beneath the dirt and the hair and the blood, looked inside the rock, and saw a man He'd made-- on purpose-- being totally tormented and abused and ground to dust among the tombs. That was enough for Him to act. Legion didn't even have to want deliverance. He didn't have to be on His side. Part of the Bride was in the grip of the enemy and that was so not okay.
Second thing: Jesus knew who this man was (part of the Bride), as evidenced by His desire to free him. But when He asked Legion who he was, Legion gave Him the name of his demons. How often do we do this?!
"What's your name," He'll ask.
"I'm depressed," we'll answer, "I'm afraid," "I'm a terrible sinner," "I'm worthless."
"I am Legion, for we are many." For all the world like some misbegotten Borg drone. Agh!
But Jesus doesn't buy it.
I can tell because of the dialogue, which I never understood before this morning at 4:23, and what happend after it.
"What have You to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? [What is there in common between us?]"
Can you hear us? "Do we have anything in common with Jesus?! Look at us! We want to believe that we are cut from the same cloth, but the demons assure us we aren't! Are we really Your siblings, Lord?" It's like running away to see if that special someone will come after you. (Notice that Legion uses the singular "me" at that point, though he identifies himself with the plural "we.") Jesus went after him.
It always bothered me that Jesus wouldn't let Legion join Him, though, even when Legion is the only one ever recorded asking-- begging-- to go with Him, willing to leave all and follow.
^"19But Jesus refused to permit him, but said to him, Go home to your own [family and relatives and friends] and bring back word to them of how much the Lord has done for you, and [how He has] had sympathy for you and mercy on you. ²⁰And he departed and began to publicly proclaim in Decapolis [the region of the ten cities] how much Jesus had done for him, and all the people were astonished and marveled."
It's as if Jesus is saying, "Yes, we do have something in common. See, I have made you like me. Our humanity and place in the Father's heart makes us kin. Go tell everyone that." And Legion did, with joy! Don't miss that. Suddenly Legion became a one-man army in the battle to convince the bride that she does in fact have something in common with Jesus, the son of the most high God. She is not who the enemy tells her she is.
This is long; thanks for reading it. I just want you to know that a.) His compassion is big enough that He'll come after you, b.) He knows who you really are, and c.) yes, you do have something in common with the God of the universe. For reals.

Assumptions

2009-04-29T13:58:00.000-07:00

Hi.

Considering that the interim between my last post and today have been three of the most profound months of my entire life, and that since I have approximately 3.8 million things to say, and since there is a .038 chance of me being able to get it all down, I've decided not to backtrack (oh, the agony! For me. Not you. Most likely), and so I begin with today.

Of course today is entirely informed by the last three months, but I can't win them all.

Assumptions. Ever get caught out by them? Ever say, rather glibbly, “I know exactly what you're thinking,” only to have a suddenly piercing look turned upon you accompanied by “Do you? You think you know me, but do you?” Of course we don't. How many of us really know anyone? Even ourselves?

I woke up this morning (a plus) with Jesus messing about in my brain (bigger plus). In the last few days I've had a couple run-ins with the Creator that have left me— well, a little breathless, scared, and in the beginning stages of being seduced. And I don't mean the nice, safe kind that comes from long looks and moonlight and proximity. I mean stomach-flipping, back-against-the-wall, “who-in-the-world-is-this-and-why-am-I-alone-with-Him?!” seduced. So when He asked this morning (to paraphrase) “You think you know me, don't you?” I was mercifully aware that it was a trick question.

I used to think I did. As recently as last week. We humans have a horrible tendency to believe that all we know is all there is to know. We may admit aloud that there is a world of knowledge we haven't tapped, but in the concrete, practical aspects of ever-day living, we live as if our knowledge is the complete (meaning “whole”) truth. We have to. If we didn't we'd fly to pieces with the uncertainty, cowering in the daylight like paranoids schizophrenics. The trouble comes when we start building castles on this sand.

My dad has a saying: God has a way or peeping around the corners of our dearest-held ideas and saying, “Boo!” This morning, Jehovah politely suggested that all man's ideas about Him, our theology, our hope, even our faith, is built on us trying to manage him. What we understand we can control. We don't like loose cannons. We're alright with God being “good, but not safe,” as Lewis puts it, but what if He's actually, well, dangerous? What if He's a lover so jealous and so besotted that He'll stop at nothing to get the girl? What if He means that we must walk by faith and not by sight? And what if I'm wrong even about all of this? To a core level, I think we believe we have made God. Bound by our little bitty time-structured existence, we did not see His self-existence create us. We did not— do not— see the power and the glory that runs unfettered through the cosmos. We don't think of God as a person (in the positive sense), a person who is completely themselves, predictable in some ways, and totally unpredictable in others. People have written about this for ages: having God on His terms, not ours, taking Him out of the box, letting Him be the captain of your fate, etc... All worth-while ideas. But they all seem to depend on us doing or not doing something. They leave no room in our paradigms for El Gibhor to suddenly wheal around and scare the hell out of us. What we really mean by all those ideas is God gets to be God to the level we understand Him. He must act within our ability to comprehend or He's being pointless. After all, if we don't get it...

Agh! The arrogance of Man! The arrogance of me!

People, God is God! I don't know how else to say this. He is Himself, not our ideas about Him. We may think He is such and such a thing, or is bound to behave in such and such a way, but He is not! We know so little about Him. Forgo assumptions. Ask Him Who He is. Unimaginably, He wants to tell us.

Just be prepared for that delicious terror. You'll get addicted.

Proof!

2009-01-30T21:42:00.001-08:00

For my 100th post I offer four seconds of proof that I have in fact tried the noble sport of snowboarding. It was a gorgeous day, I survived to tell the tale, and am scheduled to go again on Monday. I have to give total props to my patient teacher, who spent 2.5 hours helping me down a 10 minute hill, and who made it fun and who was incredibly encouraging. There is more I should say, but it's late and my typing is deteriorating, so we'll call it good. Hang ten, or whatever it is that snowboarders say...

Halo

2009-01-04T21:56:00.000-08:00

So today my brother Ian was recounting at great length the plot of the Halo novel he's reading (yes, they decided computer games weren't enough and wrote books) and since I was racing to finish a mohair scarf (unpleasantness all over me-- wore an apron, which helped) I listened.
Turns out humans in this scenario are called the Reclaimers, the appointed protectors of the technology (handed down to them by the Forerunners) which is able to save the rest of the galaxy from the evil infiltrating of the Flood (a malevolent parasite which zaps the brains of higher life forms so they can live off their life and turn them into fighting machines). Forgive me if you know all this-- it was new to me.
"Wow," I thought, "imagine knowing that you yourself bore such a responsibility just because you were born human! The whole galaxy depends on you living up to your birthright. Imagine how that would make you look at other humans: knowing that you were all in this together, were part of a high-priority project to save the galaxy-- it would revolutionize the way you treated people, even people you didn't know."
I'm sure you won't be surprised by the real-life tie in, but God did have to explain it to me (though it was sort of a flash down-load between stitches):
Halo got it righter than they knew. Humanity is the appointed protector of the world, placed here by the Forerunner Himself to fight evil in every form and to keep other people from being turned into malevolent tools of the universe's greatest Enemy. Every generation has been born to it. It's our birthright. We are each essential pieces in a high-priority project to save the galaxy. Duh.
God's most pointed point, however (between stitches), seemed to be that last bit: how does this fact revolutionize the way I treat people, even people I don't know? If we're all in this together, I don't want to be shooting my own. I don't want to either be or inflict a casualty of/by "friendly fire."
The stakes are too high.

Pssst!

2008-12-29T19:55:00.001-08:00

(pssst! guess what?
the stories are true!
our Bridegroom is real!
we didn't make Him up.
and He's coming to get us.

just thought you might like to remember.)

And now for something completely different....

2008-12-29T13:22:00.001-08:00

I got my first snowboarding lesson last night. Yes, that is correct: Jessie MacInnis has begun to learn how to snowboard. It was on a very slushy, not-very-steep hill in a backyard, with a very patient instructor, which was actually how I preferred to learn. I know you'll all want proof, so here are two clips Maggie took of the history-altering event. Apologies for the darkness: we set up the flood lamps for the bigger hill then decided to move to the better snow on the driveway and so lost most of the light. Just use your imagination. The first clip is me learning how to stop. I did that all night and didn't manage to grasp the concept. The second one is trying the "big" hill, which is a barely-controlled terror still, and my form isn't great. That got better however. At least that's what I was told. :-)

I'm happy to report that even after one solid crash I'm only the good kind of sore today!

"For the gift of God is eternal life."

2008-12-25T14:20:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas, everyone! We're still under a good foot of snow and the kids are outside as I write, working away on Maggie's snow tower. Which is at least seven feet tall they tell me. I just wanted to post a couple of pictures from this morning's festivities. There were a few brilliant gifts that made their appearances, and I'm assuming you'll want to see. :-)

That's me with my John Singer Sargent portrait book, Maggie with her snowboard (courtesy of Boomer), and Boomer with his djembe. We were all, in turns, "proud, happy and thrilled."

Snow, Part 2

2008-12-19T15:59:00.000-08:00

I will say that it's worth it to view these large. Just click on them!

This is a favorite tree to the north of our property. Irresistible, photographically speaking.

The farm across the way.

Doesn't everybody have a wood stove in their garden?

Yeah, pretty much.... brilliant.

Once more, the farm across the way.

Just cool. I love when God does this kind of gratuitous stuff.

Note the bright red sun-twinkle.

Snow!

2008-12-19T15:15:00.000-08:00

Mom has been being brilliant with her new camera again. And God has been being brilliant with the weather. Combined they make for quite a show. Apparently I'm only allowed to post a certain number of pictures as a time, so I'm going to have to do installments. This is the first! Enjoy!

Nine inches on top of the geo this morning.

Geese managing to be picturesque.

A personal favorite.

Cliche, but cliches are cliches for a reason.

See the sun?

Red

2008-12-15T21:46:00.000-08:00

I teasingly alluded to new shoes last week. Well, I have met my dancing heels, and these are them:
$7 at Value Village in Shoreline. They make me inordinately happy.

Assimilating....

2008-12-15T21:17:00.000-08:00

I hit a turning point somewhere between last night and today. It was 1Timothy 1:14, which, if I could, I would have engraved on something. So far I've only got it scrawled on my left wrist, where important stuff usually goes.
"...and the grace of our Lord was more than abundant, with the faith and love which are found in Christ Jesus."
Simple, right? The big things always are, hidden right out in the open, waiting for the Father to lift us up to His eye level so we can see what Daddy sees: it says right here that faith is located in Jesus. He explained to me last night that I've been trying to manufacture faith on my own, scrounging it from the dark corners of my soul, hoping that this time there will be enough.
There never is.
That's because He's got it all.
However....
...since I'm hidden in Christ myself, all I have to do is stretch out my hands and wrap myself in the nearest pile of the stuff.
The devil can put that in his pipe and smoke it.

God Has Visited His People

2008-12-12T21:58:00.000-08:00

So this is my most recent spiritual revelation (there will be more about shoes later, I promise. Or threaten, depending on your point of view, and-- most likely-- gender):
"And God has visited His people [ in order to help and care for and provide for them]!" Luke 7:16, Amplified Version.
I love the Amplified. It tells me in English what the Greek was really saying. There is context and nuance and fullness of meaning which is frequently lost in translation (even in translations I love). Martin Luther ran into the same problem when trying to translate the Latin Bible into German. Sticky stuff.
But so rich! See, this here tells me the intent behind God's visitation. I might eventually arrive at the truth of His intent by reasoning backwards from "God has visited His people," but being human I am more likely to jump to an erroneous conclusion. Like, "Oh great, God has come down to check up on His people. What's going to happen now, considering how long we've been screwing things up?" The statement sited above allays all those fears.
I watched Luther last night, so, though he's not an untainted hero, he's fresh in my mind. He, and his fight. The Catholicism of his day portrayed God as terrible, a punishing vengeance waiting to strike and to burn and to torture if we did not pay literal coin to appease Him. Luther came saying, "If your understanding of God is that He is an angry God, there is something wrong with your picture." And here I find affirmation of his words in the very Scriptures he fought to place in the hands of an enslaved, ignorant people.
Which takes me straight back to the verse: "And God has visited His people [ in order to help and care for and provide for them]!" I have these Scriptures in my hands, and I am not enslaved to "the church," ignorant, starving, gripped by a fear so complete it scares me into the arms of the devil. What greater help and care and provision is there? He abolished fear.

It does make me wonder, though, what modern-day blind spots I have; if 16th century Rome had them, so can I. But that's another blog....

Going Market Price for Virginity: $3.8 million

2008-11-07T12:36:00.000-08:00

Pretty good hook, eh? My best friend and I hashed this out the other night when she brought up the subject of "Natalie Dylan". For multiple reasons, this 22 year-old girl is auctioning her virginity through Nevada's legalized prostitution establishment. My agreement or disagreement with her free-market capitalist position is neither here nor there; my point is that she has over 5,000 offers from around the world, the highest bid (as of Monday) coming in at 3.8 million dollars.

Girls, have we forgotten what we have?

Not so very long ago virginity was worth something in Western culture. It added to your value as a woman, and, crass as it may sound falling on our modern ears, it was marketable. Whether in cash or cows, a woman had to be paid for because she was worth that much. To our shame our culture has lost this sensibility, but most other places in the world still recognize, even if only through tradition, that a virgin bride is a a costly thing. I volunteer in a crisis pregnancy center, and every day I meet young woman who've no idea they've handed over $3.8 million dollars to a guy they now hate or who has left them with twins or cheated on them with a 16 year-old. It's a little like selling your grandmother's original Van Gogh for $3 at a yard sale because you never paid attention in art class.
So be encouraged, sisters. What we have is still valuable; 5,000 men have stood up and said so.

And there are more.

Fixing Ferdie

2008-10-30T17:32:00.000-07:00

So I think I figured something out yesterday: guys may very well like working on cars because when they open that bonnet, they look at the mess and think, "Hey, I can fix this! It's not a person, it's not a relationship-- there's a finite number of things that could be wrong with it. All I need is time and money."

Turns out it's not just guys that think that. I started thinking that after "working" (i.e., doing what I was told) on my car with my uncle up at his shop. Life has been a lot lately. Not too much, just a lot, but I still wish I could turn it off for a while and do something at which I can expect a measure of success. Now, fixing cars is not the thing at which I succeed most, but I can at least grasp the concept and apply it to whatever-- quilting, making chocolate-cream-cinnamon-cayenne pies, painting, writing blogs, climbing trees..... Success seems to put the world back on its axis.

So, feeling overwhelmed? Go work on the car.

"Let me explain-- no, there is too much; let me sum up."

2008-10-08T11:51:00.001-07:00

There is far too much on which to catch up for the last month, so I won't bother for now. But I will say that I plan to start following the excellent examples of my favorite bloggers by writing shorter blogs with more pictures. (The problem being, of course, that I am perpetually long-winded, theology is rarely compact, and the only camera I have is my phone.)

That being said, however, there is this:
*On Monday afternoon during Bible Study (Beth Moore's Believing God-- do it!), we were challenged to believe God for something-- anything-- that affected us deeply. I chose believing that He would in fact continue to perfect me until the day of His return. Too often I see my own sinful, recalcitrant self as an insurmountable obstacle in His way. Theological rot. I asked Him to sweep me over the next spiritual threshhold despite myself, like a groom bringing home the bride.
*Monday night the Father occurred it to me that I don't understand how much He loves me. After all, would I see myself as an obstacle if I realized this were a two-sided tango? It's not difficult for me to bend over backwards for those I know love me to pieces; there is something motivating about being cherished. It's only when I feel I must love and obey out of duty that the going gets depressing: I know how little I am able to do that. I asked Him to prove how much He loves me.
*Tuesday evening I was at the Care Center watching Beyond Regret, a dvd we share with post-abortion clients who want to start the healing process. In it, it was suggested that until a person comes to terms with the magnitude of their own birth, their own humanity, the fact that God intentionally made them, it will be difficult for them to value the life of anyone else, especially of an unborn child.
Somehow I had never fully grasped the intentionally part. I've told numerous other people-- emphatically!-- that God planned them from the beginning, that they were not mistakes, that He wanted them etc. etc. etc... However, subconsciously I believed that, though He made me, it was almost as if He designed me, chose me, planned me (before the foundations of the world) after my parents had sex. Which makes me, essentially, nothing more than a "product of conception." Cold, clinical term. And again, total theological rot. The thing I felt the Father saying to me as I watched that dvd was, "I wanted a Jessie. So I made one." If that is the case (and it is), then the equation goes like this: if He wanted a Jessie and so made one, she is not bigger than He is, He will not leave her to herself, nor will He fail to take a keen interest in teaching and parenting her. Or completing her.
I am not on my own.
As the Irish say, At all, at all.

No blogs.

2008-09-03T20:34:00.000-07:00

The following is a list of reasons I haven't been blogging lately (because I'm sure you want to know):

* Bowling. Wednesday nights. As often as we can. Because I finally found a sport I love.
* Three consecutive days of weddings, one for set-up, one for actual wedding (as a coordinator), and another for actual wedding (as attendee). This meant lots of flowers, lots of busyness, lots of dancing, lots of ordering people around. At which those who know me will smile. Deservedly so.
* Visiting the Lady Washington with siblings and friends. That was a so-so experience, but it led to more entertaining things like:
* Lunch in the Capitol Park. Complete with our own serenader who sat on a bench and played the flute, and a pair of backpackers who wandered through with a cat strapped to one of their frames.
* Also shopping. Not remarkable usually, but in this instance there were six kids (between the ages of 14 and 26) attached to the apron strings of a 42 year-old mother who swore she'd pretend to be a 42 year-old single person if we didn't behave. We manged, though it was a close thing between the near juggling-of-mangoes and the trying on of sunglasses and the lusting over all things chocolate. Though the mother was involved in that last.
* Also tree climbing. Lots of it, followed by general woods-meandering under summer-saturated canopies of sunlit green and bright red cherries. Magic. We found deer "nests" and flying squirrel nests and old trees that probably had owls in them, and huckleberries and cool rocks.
* Also sunset-watching. In a round grove of firs and vine maples and blackberries in the middle of a large field.
* I've been enjoying the new Vice Presidential Nomination.
* I've been sketching.
* I've been launching a boat. This afternoon in fact.

So that's why no blogs.
Oh, and next week I go to Disneyland so there will be more no blogs for a while. And then hopefully there will be more blogs.

Summed up

2008-08-27T15:48:00.000-07:00

So I've finally condensed what I'm all about into two pithy words: Yaşamı seçin.

Okay, so that's Turkish, and not altogether helpful for my average reader (though I know one of you will get it). It translates to "Choose Life," and springs full-fledged from Duet. 30:19-20: "I call heaven and earth to witness against you today, that I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. So choose life in order that you may live, you and your descendants, by loving the LORD your God, by obeying His voice, and by holding fast to Him; for this is your life and the length of your days..."

This extends way beyond some Pro-Life ethic, or a response to brussel sprouts or lacrosse. It covers biological life and smart choices, or course, but adds to that a chasing after "further up and further in," a refusal to capitulate to death in any form (words, violence, images, sounds, attitudes, the Enemy), a desire for reality on the other side of the Veil, and, especially, a hunger and thirst for the One who named His very self Life.

Anyone else know how to say this in another language? Leave a comment.

"Chicks Dig Scars"

2008-08-27T12:41:00.000-07:00

Yesterday at the Farmer's Market my brother and a friend and I got talking about our various scars and their various causes. It's a favorite topic among humanoids, a thing I've often found to be curious. Half an hour later I was getting onto the freeway and wound up following a truck with a rodeo bumper sticker that read "Chicks dig scars". I was intrigued by the fact that even though it's totally politically incorrect, it's true. Why do I, as a female of the species, dig scars?
Some minor contemplation yielded the obvious: scars imply a willingness to dare, to face risks, to pick oneself up and try again, to be dangerous. Or to be stupid, as my sister interjected. I told her yes, but even stupidity has a certain amount of charm about it. It represents a fearlessness next to which most girls want to cuddle up.
There we go. The mysteries of the universe explained.

It took me till rather late in the day to realize that Jesus has some pretty gnarly scars too. And that they say all of those things about Him that earthly scars say about earthly men. Even the stupid part: "But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise;" (1Co 1:27a) Getting Yourself tortured and murdered for a girl as flaky and wounded as the Church, according to the world, is stupid. But it certainly shows a fearlessness-- or a faith-- next to which I intend to cuddle up.

Orissa

2008-08-27T11:55:00.000-07:00

I received an update from a friend this morning about some serious persecution of the Church in Orissa, India. At his suggestion I checked out the link he sent and found this. It's so easy for me to let things slide off my brain because I don't chose to fire up my "let's-deal-with-this" mechanism. I "cope" instead by forgetting about it. But that attitude never won wars, either on earth or in the heavenlies, where this particular battle rages. The least (and, some would argue, the most) I can do is pray. Care to join me?

"One summer morning as I went walking...."

2008-08-23T21:05:00.000-07:00

Apparently cleaning out my phone is good for my blogging habit-- I find lots of good pictures. I've been seeing some lovely things lately and in the spirit of propagating beauty whenever and wherever possible, I share it with you here. It's all a little green, but then so is this entire page. What can I say? Green is life, and consequently life to my soul.

This is Brodiaea, a flower with which I am most familiar from my California days. It grows wild there among the crab grass and star thistle (truly nasty specimens of flora) and one day it showed up at the Dollar Store in bulb form. Now it grows in the barrel in front of my back door and makes me happy.

These are the near neighbors of Old Waverly, of best-climbing-tree-ever fame. No lens can capture the glory though.

Last week we went blueberry picking. This was growing in the same garden and it rejoiced my soul. Beauty, function, and extravagance all in one perfect form.

This, my friends, is the DingleBurn. You can't tell but you're looking right over the creek through a window into... where?

I'm very much afraid that Fall is well on her way. But if she must come then I'm glad she comes heralded thus.

Good clean fun

2008-08-23T12:36:00.001-07:00

Gracious! It's been a long time again. Life has been happening to me with a vengeance lately, and I'm just trying to keep up with it right now. But I do have some fun pictures to share, for those few of you who are not on Facebook (aherm, Em and Cathi, though you can see all of them here), and anecdotal notes to go with them. I would have more, but my phone doesn't take very good pictures in a dark bowling alley.

Here we have the first site that greeted us as we walked in the gate at the Garlic Festival yesterday. After much circling and musing we decided that the only thing that could have caused the sand-slide over the front door was catapults.

We all bought different things for lunch and consumed them round-robin under an obliging tree. Aubie and I got Thai, Boomer got massive Garlic bread, Joel got fudge, Reuben and Stephen got snow cones, and Steven got garlic pasta, and buckwheat honey. After sampling the latter we all decided that the first taste was like a dark lager, and the aftertaste was exactly like an old wood barn full of animals, dust, sun-dried hay and cobwebs. Boomer said he could practically see the rope swing!

After that, and after Steven had retrieved his keys from where he'd landed them on top of a tree branch, we were inspired to crash the hat booth. Hilarity ensued, as well as some classic pictures.

The dimples makes these shots.

I caught one of Aubie in the mirror by stealth.

And this one I call Quadruple Portrait.

We danced by the grandstand too, for the band was playing brilliant old 20s and 30s music, a little ragtime, a little county fair stuff, a Little Brown Jug. We called it a day, well satisfied that it doesn't take much money and certainly no sketchiness to have fun. In fact we finished off our afternoon with climbing trees back at the Cummins' place, and I haven't had so much delight in I don't know when. We even found a name for The Best Climbing Tree Ever-- Old Waverly. I've been thanking God more lately for the blessing of innocence.

For my unrelenting public...

2008-08-11T15:19:00.000-07:00

Due to popular demand I am writing a blog. And in the spirit of keeping up with the Griffiths I am posting pictures! These are from our cow pasture on Friday where Boomer discovered four bunnies of undetermined age huddled in loam by a fallen tree. Marinating in sunlight as far as we could tell. Since there were four we named them Flopsy, Mopsy, Cottontail and Peter (though my initial vote was for Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin). Haven't seen them since, but that's okay: Boomer told me to take my phone and now we have them documented in pixel perpetuity!

Peter

Cottontail

Flopsy and Mopsy

Paintings to follow, I'm sure.

Hard Core Holiness

2008-07-22T08:48:00.000-07:00

I had an "epiphanous major" yesterday. As I've been battling towards holiness, one imperfect day at a time, I've been learning how easy it is to get tainted by the world, the flesh and the devil. This will not change as I get further up and further in. A fact that is a little daunting at times. The epiphany was mathematical in nature, thus: if holiness is indeed greater than the world, the flesh and the devil, then holiness is the only way to cancel their impact, making them into the equivolent of negative numbers. (H > wfs) Therefore H + wfs = -wfs At least in theory. This is where the Evil Mathematician appears in all his cloaked and masked maleficence. The holier we get, the greater a mark we are for the enemy. Therefore the nearer we get to the Lord the more temptation he'll throw at us. And the more we're perfected, the more we have to lose by a fall (which he knows), so the more armored we need to stay against the world, the flesh and the devil. But the only true armor is more holiness, so what we have here is an upward spiral that needs to be pursued tenaciously.

Holiness is both our treasure and the weapon by which we guard it. We must learn to use it aggressively. This is not some ethereal, pie in the sky concept. It's hard core, practical, necessary. Neither nice nor safe.

P.S.

2008-07-20T14:45:00.000-07:00

The trouble with blogging as I think of things instead of after I've collected all my thoughts into a homogenous whole is that I'm constantly amending or adding to my posts. In this case it was only fifteen minutes before the Lord showed me something in Hosea that started another rabbit trail and I realized I needed to write a post script. (Is it more grammatically correct to say "post post script" in this case....?)
"And now they sin more and more, and they have made themselves a molten image of their silver, idols according to their own understanding, all of it the work of the craftsmen. " ~Hos 13:2 ~
Right here Satan co-oped the gifts God had given men which He intended for His glory. Satan can't create so he uses people and their gifts to make dark, twisted, evil, though quasi-beautiful things. I saw something like that today-- a bronze statue from Korea of a girl caressing a cobra. Story goes the snake is the household god who fell in love with the daughter, assumed human shape, wooed her, and when she discovered his true shape, he was so ashamed that he fled and the family fortunes plummeted. Awkward story, and an awkward work of art flowing from it. Well-done, but somehow off. Error and evil are like that: perhaps lovely in a sense, but vaguely wrong. Like all those Enya songs that are dreamy and ethereal and gorgeous.... until you understand the words. This is why I think it's so important to reclaim wonderful tunes or stories or pictures for the Lord's use, because everything with even a remote speck of goodness in it has come from Him and belongs to Him. The creativity that lends itself to evil has been kidnapped, and it's time we made a raid and took it back.
This also gives us a better than average reason not to patronize those who use their God-given gifts for ill: it's literally enemy territory. I dealt with that today too. I had been following a video web serial and because it was so "good"-- by which I mean clever and well-executed, not moral-- I kept watching long after I should have turned it off. Played right into his hands and only got slimed for my erstwhileness. It's frustrating, of course, because so much of the art produced today is neither all good nor all bad. Which is why I say, again, take back the land! Edit out objectionable content, vote with your movie ticket, music purchase, and mouse clicks. Don't settle! There is good art to be made out there, and the world doesn't even know it wants it. Go make it!

Art = Attack

2008-07-20T13:50:00.000-07:00

New thought from Church-Around-the-Breakfast-Table: creating artwork is one of the weapons of attack we possess in the Kingdom of God. We already know that Satan tries to destroy our creativity out of envy because he can't do it himself, and because he knows it's a reflection of God, and because in itself it's a good thing. But add to that the idea that because he can't do it, every creative act is an act of war on his dark kingdom. He is then put on the defensive instead of the offensive, and I for one can appreciate that reversal of pattern. Suddenly I'm understanding more why I must fight for my painting. Why I must persevere to make it good rather than only adequate or cute. Goodness has power inherent (see last blog), and that goes for excellence as well as righteousness. I want the power of the Lord to funnel through my paintings and explode all over those who come in contact with it. I'm not there yet, but I feel that is the call on me. Some of my work has hints of that power. But nothing has fully flowered yet and it's an act of faith that I press on here because if I didn't imagine that it would flower someday... why would I continue? I speak a blessing of seeing and perseverance on the creative hearts of all who read these words. May He fill up your work with Himself and cause consternation in the enemy's camp!