Day 34: A --less update

Psalm 93: The LORD Reigns

The LORD reigns; he is robed in majesty;the LORD is robed; he has put on strength as his belt. Yes, the world is established; it shall never be moved. Your throne is established from of old; you are from everlasting. The floods have lifted up, O LORD, the floods have lifted up their voice; the floods lift up their roaring. Mightier than the thunders of many waters, mightier than the waves of the sea, the LORD on high is mighty! Your decrees are very trustworthy; holiness befits your house, O LORD, forevermore.

Under the veil of transparency I sit, searching for a conversation with you, imaginary reader, that captures what has happened up to this point. I promised, a few weeks ago, to keep you abreast of my fasting. I had, quite honestly, hoped that I would have a report filled with spiritual wonders; a greater closeness to the Lord; a deeper understanding of the mysteries of Heaven. But between you, me, and the keyboard, this hasn’t been the mountain top experience I’d envisioned…and yet, I have felt the Lord move in ways that were missing before. I am coming out of a drought, parched and weary, into a place of new growth. Tiny shoots of life scratching through brittle soil. I am moving towards unfettered joy found only in the resurrection of Christ. I can see hope on the horizon. And my expectation increases daily.

Matthew 5: 20 ~ For I [Jesus] tell you that unless your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, you will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven.

The absence of sugar. For 24 days, I held fast. No sugar. No sweeteners, other than honey on occasion. I discovered a new love of fruit. My coffee was abrasive. I delighted in the metaphor of how bitter and joyless my life is without the resurrection of Christ, every time I poured a cup, or craved a treat. I gave my cravings over to the Lord, I rejoiced in His strengthening me. And then, without much warning, I felt the quaking of self-righteousness within me. I became the master of my cravings. I was the one holding out. I could get through 40 days. Me. For me.

And then, I got sick. I was exhausted, hungry, and miserable. On the way home from the doctor (day 3 of pain and no food), I prayed. I wanted so much to honor my commitment, to stick to it with my own power. But I asked for permission to have a milkshake ~ something to numb the fire in my throat and fill my belly so I could sleep. And the answer I got: my self-righteousness had gotten in the way of my worship. I had given up sugar to take things out of the way of my relationship with my Lord. But in doing so, I’d unwittingly erected another wall ~ my works. I had become like a Pharisee, righteous for my own sake. All show and no heart. Clinging to ritualized commitments, instead of to the Lord.

So I asked for forgiveness. I recognized that I could give up sugar for the rest of eternity and still miss the point. It is only through Christ’s work (not mine) that I find right standing with God. No amount of fasting will ever change that. So I had a shake (or 3). And I got back on my fast, with a new focus: God, not me keeping away from sugar.

Mark 1:35 ~And rising very early in the morning, while it was still dark, [Jesus] departed and went out to a desolate place, and there he prayed.

In regards to my snooze button: once. Only once have I risen early to spend time in prayer and meditation. And I will admit that was only when the sun had begun rising earlier (before the “spring forward” time change which causes my room to stay dark until well after I should be up). I’ll also admit that the time wasn’t of high quality; it was of “get-it-out-of-the-way” sort. And I have lamented this. I’ve been my typical guilt-ridden self. Hardly the point.

But in that, I’ve been instructed in and therefore open to the idea of 1 degree of change; which paraphrased to fit my illustration says, if I can take 1 step of faith growing closer to Christ, I have (from an eternal perspective) changed my entire trajectory. So, I’ve taken to praying differently (from a stance of relinquishment instead of pleading); and focusing more time throughout the day on God, His word (even just 1 line of scripture repeated at different points throughout the day), and His attributes. And, not surprisingly, I have grown. My worship is reflecting a slight difference. My thoughts are quicker to quiet, more readily on my Father when I wake than before.

While from the outside it looks like I’ve failed in this, I am changing. I am discovering new means of quality time with my Heavenly Father. And for that, I am glad.

Luke 10: 38-42 ~ As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, "Lord, don't you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!" "Martha, Martha," the Lord answered, "you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her."

Finally, to the one thing I’ve given up and actually stayed away from: the internet distraction of a certain social networking site. I haven’t visited it, haven’t thought about it, haven’t even wanted to. And I’ve found lots of time, time previously wasted, to devote to the Lord. But all that time has only resulted in was more doing, more busy-ness, more activities, more weariness, more striving – SIT DOWN, MARTHA! My soul is screaming. Sit at the Master’s feet. Be filled. Be still. Be at peace.

So there it is: seeming failure on all fronts. And yet, maybe not. Perhaps each is 1 degree of change, movement in a more Christ-like direction. I will keep trying, with the help of the Holy Spirit to guide and support me. And I will quietly delight in the metaphor that without the resurrection of Christ, all of my striving is hollow ceremony.

Wait

Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.  They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.   I say to myself, "The LORD is my portion; therefore I will wait for him."

~Lamentations 3:21-24

Wait.  It’s a word not frequently heard in our society.

Want your tax refund?  Well, give us 20 minutes (and $300) and we’ll write you a check…  Want a house?  Apply now and we’ll approve you immediately…  Want to lose weight?  Take these pills and drop 10 pounds by morning…

No, waiting is not an American trait.

Yet, that is what we, as followers of Christ, are called to do.  Wait.  Not just wait; but wait on the Lord.  In our culture of “gimme NOW,” we can loose sight of what it means to wait on the Lord.  I certainly have at times.  I want to be used by the Lord right this second.  I want my trails alleviated this instant.

Sometimes, we [as followers of Jesus Christ] are called to wait it out.  Whatever “it” happens to be.  It could be a marriage that has seemingly gone sour.  A financial situation in which there is no reprieve in sight.  Cancer.   Loss of a job.  A nebulous preparation of our spirit for our next venture.  Whatever the context, we are told to be patient, be still, and to wait on the LORD.

Waiting is never easy.  I don’t believe it was meant to be.  [Perhaps that is why as Americans, we find waiting so abhorrent ~ it’s uncomfortable at best.]  Waiting, I believe, is just another desert [think: wandering in the wilderness for 40 years] meant to draw us further into the arms of our Father.  It is a method used to focus our attention on the heart of God; to seek His face, His will above our own.

And in our waiting, we have the most amazing opportunity to discover more of the heart of God.  To attend even closer to His plans for our lives.  We are able to discover, on a new level, what it means personally for God to be our portion.  Daily.  Hourly.  Breath by breath.

I can write this now, with complete faith, because I have lived a part of it.  In years past, my husband and I were surviving our marriage at best.  We weren’t fulfilled.  We weren’t even content.  We were literally surviving one another.  And to that end, we each had to abandon our ideas of happily ever after and cling solely to the promise that God would be enough.  Each moment.  And there were days, for both of us, that God had to be enough in that moment.

And He was.  Every moment.  Every breath.  God was enough.  He was our portion.  His mercies and His love covered everything.  Years of waiting on the LORD has blossomed into an even greater happily-ever-after than I could have ever imagined, if left to my own devices.  And I believe my husband would say the same [at least, he has said the same to me privately.]

I don’t know what situation you’re facing right now.  I can’t fathom how it’s affecting you.  But I do know that the God of the universe, the beginning and the end of all things, is holding you in His hands.  He’s waiting for you to let go; to surrender control.  He wants you to give whatever “it” is to Him.  And you are just to wait.  Cling to Him; and wait.  His love and mercy will cover you anew every morning.  And He will never let you go.

It will be the most worthwhile endeavor you’ve undertaken.  Just…

Wait.

Getting out of my own way

Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.  ~ Romans 12:1-2

I hate my alarm clock.

Understand that there is nothing wrong with this gadget: it works properly (oh, too properly), I can see it mocking me from across my bedroom (I can activate any snooze button in my sleep, hence the need to place it away from arm's reach), and I can certainly hear it shrieking in increasingly ridiculous decibels.  Perhaps, more than the apparatus itself, I hate waking.  Or at least waking before I'm ready. There was a time in very recent memory when I would bound out of bed (okay, not bound; but at least shuffle out of bed without malice) and head down to my coffee and quiet time.  Granted, that was in the summer months when the sun was peeking at me, just over the sill in my kitchen window; and my children could sleep until nine or so, as we had no commitments outside of the pool opening at eleven.  Even the recollection of those mornings draws out warmth and tugs a smile into the corner of my south.  But the dark, the winter, pulls at my resolve to rise early.  I dash across my floor, eagerly hitting the snooze button and take the few steps back into my bed, throwing the covers over me, silently  pleading, "five more minutes, Lord.  Just five more minutes."  And five becomes 30, then 60, until I have to get up lest the children be late to school.  Still dark, still cold; but now missing the delightful communion with my God.  I resolve to meet Him later in the day, which I generally do.  And I know that He is with me throughout my day.  His place is not scripted only in the times before my family rises.

Yet the paces of my day become flustered; my mode catch up, rather than soak up.  Quick fill-er-ups and stolen moments in the flow of the day; instead of separate, oasis in my life.

Upon meditation, I became aware of this and other tendencies in my flesh that are, though not pulling me away from God, certainly keeping me stagnant.  Pride.  Distraction.  Sloth.  [No, this isn't a prelude to one of my favorite movies.  It is merely the reason driving the next 40 days.] Which leads to me to the observation of a practice I thought I left far behind.  Though of late, I am becoming more respectful of the offices kept by our liturgical brethren.  This year, I feel the Lord is calling me to practice Lent.

Historically, Lent is observed for the 40 days leading up to Resurrection Sunday, during which observers recognize the temptation (ergo full humanity) of Christ in the desert prior to His Incarnate ministry.  It is a time where followers sacrifice something (e.g. "give up") for the prescribed period in observance of Christ's sacrifice of His place as God [leaving the Heavenly realm to live, caged in flesh, among the fallen on Earth].  Typically, a follower will abstain from something that is interfering with their relationship with God.  This is to prepare their hearts for the resurrection of Christ, the holiest day on the Christian calendar, the apex of history thus far.

I didn't exactly make my choices; more accurate would be to say that they were made for me as I  reflected upon my daily life.

Sadly, the first thing I think about when I wake is not the Lord, His plan for my day, nor even my delight in being His child.  It is: "what am I going to eat?"  Oh, how it pains me to write that.  Worse still, is the internal dialogue I have regarding the choices I've given myself.  Which will make me feel healthy and thin; which will be more satisfying, but send me spiraling into self-loathing when my jeans don't fit.  From that point, my mind is primed on its favorite topic: how I feel about, how I feel other people think about, how I feel about the way I think about how other people think about ~ how I look. Yikes.  Doesn't get more self-centered than that, does it?  Granted, I'm not one who looks at myself in the mirror and thinks everyone should be looking at me.  Quite the opposite.  I'd rather people didn't.  But that extreme is on the continuum of pride.  I spend a great deal of time thinking about how I look, and how other people see me.  Pride.

As I'm writing this, I'm having an internal dialogue with you [my imaginary reader] as to whether or not you like what you're reading so far.  You've interjected a few times.  I've made changes accordingly.  Have I mentioned that I have a desire for the approval of others?  With the painless anonymity of the internet, I can alert the world of my every thought and have anyone who is so moved respond.  Notice me.  Distract me.  My favorite social networking site has conveniently built this into my day.  And I have become a junkie.  I have a hard time getting on the computer to do anything without first getting my fix out of the way.  If I want to do a word search to compliment a study, I hop on the internet, but first check my page.  So this fixation feeds both my distraction and pride.

None of these activities/interests/practices are bad.  They are not sinful.  They are merely things that have crept into my life.  Things that if left unchecked, could settle into my life, could be habit-forming, could affect the way I engage in the praxis of the gospel. So, for the next 40 days, I'm giving up: sugar, my favorite social networking site, and my snooze button.  All three represent something in my flesh that is keeping me from realizing, rejoicing in, and proclaiming the miracle of the resurrection daily.  Without each, and in their place communion with and reliance upon my LORD, I will hopefully come out on the other side struggling less with pride, distraction, and sloth.  And delighting more in the sacrifice of Jesus, as He gave up His position in Heaven to walk among us.

I'll let you know how this all goes, imaginary reader.  If you'll hold me accountable.

Pedigree

For consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong.  ~ 1 Corinthians 1:26-27 (ESV)

In the movie, Legally Blonde there is a scene where the main character, a stereo-typed, California sorority girl is introduced to her classmates at Yale Law.  Within the briefest exchange of dialogue, the differences between this girl and the members of her orientation group become painfully obvious.  All but the lead hold multiple graduate degrees from challenging programs, most have years of extensive volunteer service, and each is confident of their place at Yale.  The heroine has only her life experience to offer as her qualifier for her admission.  And that is seemingly hollow and superficial.

Have you ever felt as if you were the glaring misfit in a group of highly qualified individuals?

Recently I had the opportunity to be introduced to a group of men and women who all held what I consider to be the Christian Pedigree.  Most of these individuals’ stories resemble the following:

• saved at young age (4/5 yrs old)


• families strong in ministry (children of pastors or missionaries)


• home-schooled or private Christian schooled; appropriately followed by attendance at Christian University


• met spouse in youth group (junior high/high school)


• engaged faithfully in decades (if not multiple) of service (missions, orphanages, homeless, at-risk inner-city youth, etc…)


• certain, in the absolute, in what God wants to do next in their lives.

This information was gleaned as we sat around a table, introducing ourselves and explaining what had brought us to this particular venture.  I had the privilege of going last, of listening to the 15-plus individuals share their shining histories, seemingly unmarred by the world.  May I tell you that during this experience, I vacillated between sinking lower in my chair and arching my neck in self-preserving pride?  It wasn’t pretty.  In situations like this, I have a tremendous propensity to measure myself against other believers.  This particular tendency was more pronounced than ever in this room full of people with whom I was all together unfamiliar.  The seeming religious élite.

I, in my mind, smacked of this world.  Literally reeked of it.   I was tempted to gloss over, yadda-yadda, through certain parts of my story; then in the next instant, enticed to test the acceptance of these alleged little-Christs by flooding them with gory details.  Would their eyes bug out of their heads, mouths hang agape?  Would I be able to read the judgment on their faces?

Upon contemplation, I was reminded that my path puts me in the company of another woman for whom Jesus displayed a great tenderness.  In Luke 7:36-50, we find Jesus dining at the home of a Pharisee called Simon, one of the Israelite Pedigrees of His day.  No doubt Simon had the right family, he had certainly been educated in the appropriate schools; he had undoubtedly pursued a relative form of higher education and internship under a notable teacher of the day.  Simon’s acts of service were most likely judged by his entire community and deemed worthy of a man in his position – a religious leader.  While we are not sure why he invited Jesus to dinner, we can not assume it was to merely laud his own position.  Perhaps this Pharisee truly wanted to be close to Christ, to know Him, to come into a relationship with Him.  As voyeurs into this brief moment, we can not judge Simon’s heart.  We can only observe what is revealed to us directly through Scripture.

At some point during the meal, a woman “who had lived a sinful life” enters the Pharisee’s home with an expensive jar of perfume (37).  She positions herself behind Jesus, weeping, wetting His feet with her tears.  To dry them, she uses her hair and then kisses the feet of the Master.  She finishes her act of worship by bathing Christ’s feet in perfume.  This moment is so personal, so tender, so completely unavailable to us distant observers, that there is no dialogue.  It is an act solely between a broken sinner and her Savior ~ her heart to His.

This intimate act was likely unsettling to those who were immediately privy to it.  The Pharisee, while observing the silence, has an internal monologue, noting that if Jesus was truly a prophet, He would know that this woman at His feet was unworthy of touching them – that she was a sinner.  Christ, however, being able to hear the thoughts in Simon the Pharisee’s heart, responds with a parable: two men owed money to a lender, one indebted 500 denarii, the other 50.  The moneylender forgives both debts.  Jesus then asks, “Which one will love him more?”  Simon responds logically: the one whose debt was greater.  To complete the lesson, Jesus points out to Simon all the differences between his actions and those of the sinful woman:

• Simon offered no water for Christ to wash, the woman wet His feet with her tears


• Simon did not greet Jesus with a kiss (as was custom), the woman did not stop kissing Christ’s feet


• Simon provided no oil with which to anoint Jesus’ head, the woman bathed His feet in perfume (the more expensive of the two).

Jesus ends His lesson with these words: “Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—for she loved much. But he who has been forgiven little loves little." (47)

When my turn finally came, I landed where I generally do: truth.  In God’s perspective, we are all the same ~ Christian Pedigree or sinner.  Their pedigree is mine, in that we share kinship as children of God.  These saints are as depraved as I without Christ.  Their birth rights no nobler, influence in the kingdom no greater, nor sins no less than mine.  These pristine sheep simply walk a different path.  And in that, I am called to share my experiences, not to shame my kinsmen, but to glorify the name of our God.  We are each members of one body, useful in different ways, and all completely dependent upon the sacrifice of Christ.

As for the table full of believers, of whom I was unsure would count me worthy, they did not judge.  They embraced me as a sister in Christ.  Alongside me, they acknowledged and offered praise for the grace and mercy in all our lives ~ and the source from whence it comes.  Christ alone.

Take a good look, friends, at who you were when you got called into this life. I don't see many of "the brightest and the best" among you, not many influential, not many from high-society families. Isn't it obvious that God deliberately chose men and women that the culture overlooks and exploits and abuses, chose these "nobodies" to expose the hollow pretensions of the "somebodies"? That makes it quite clear that none of you can get by with blowing your own horn before God. Everything that we have—right thinking and right living, a clean slate and a fresh start—comes from God by way of Jesus Christ.

~ 1 Corinthians 1:26-32 (the Message)

Thoughts from the treadmill

It’s January.  And as I have done for more times than I care to discuss here, I have resolved to exercise.  Along those lines, I let slip to my kids (who are white belts) that I should take an adult karate class. So at the strong encouragement of my children, who delight in the idea of their mom kicking and “ki-ah-ing” right along with them, I spoke with the Sensi of their dojo. He was very enthusiastic, but did caution me that I shouldn’t eat dinner before coming to class. “Why,” was my naïve response. With what I consider a truly wicked grin, he responded, “So you don’t puke on the mats. Most first-timers do.”

Excuse me? Did you say, “puke?!”

As you can imagine, I am oh-so excited to start karate. In fact, I’m wondering exactly how long I can put off joining this class. I do have to see Sensi four times a week for my children’s classes, so I can’t completely avoid him. However, to make my yes be yes, I have resolved to get in shape (at least develop some muscle and endurance) before I start karate classes. Because, frankly I can imagine few things more humiliating than vomiting in front of other adults due solely to the fact that I can’t hack the workout. Yeah, it’s a pride thing. But I don’t think I could summon the strength to show my face at the dojo again, which would be a tragic way to end my kids’ budding karate careers.

As I was sweating profusely on the evil elliptical (right beside Barbie, who had been on her machine 30 minutes longer than I, and was only glistening the way aerobic-video instructors do, not the way people drenched in their own perspiration shine), I was commending myself for my resolve to get into shape so that I wouldn’t be embarrassed when I took a class to get into shape. “Ha,” I thought to myself, “I won’t throw up, I will even be able to keep up.” (Yes, if you must know, that was most likely the delightful cocktail of endorphins and peppy, workout music on the mp3 player talking.) And then, I had a sobering, more realistic thought flit into my brain: “what if, after all this personal preparation, I still puke?” I stole a glance at Barbie, to make sure she couldn’t read the mortification in my thoughts. Thankfully, she was grinning as happily as ever, flaunting her feat of sweat-free elliptical endurance.

It was then that I realized a number of the body of Christ approach our God this way. “Thanks for the invitation, God; but I’ve got some messy stuff I have to take care of first. After I deal with all of that, then we’ll talk.” Oh, I’m not just talking about people on the verge of conversion; I am primarily referring to those among us (myself chief amongst us) who consider themselves unworthy of serving, evangelizing, disciplining.

When we experience the invitation to serve, we reason that first we must get our act together. We need to whip ourselves in to spiritual shape before we can be useful to God. In our current state, we are too depraved, too messy, too fleshly. We need to be the model mother/wife/friend/daughter/neighbor/domestic diva/culinary whiz (one does need to entertain, does one not, when becoming a servant?), etc. We need to be better versed in Scripture, increasingly well-read, a stronger apologist, a more motivating leader, a more humble person, a little more mature, more organized, more articulate, more empathetic...Until our personal lists extend beyond our ability.

Granted, there are biblical qualifications for leadership, laid out in Titus 1-2 and 1st Timothy 3, to which we should adhere. However, God does not expect us to fix ourselves before serving Him. Quite frankly, He is all too aware that we can’t fix ourselves. Only an intimate relationship with Him can enable us to deal with our mess. Scripture, in fact, tells us that [God’s] grace is sufficient for you, for [His] power is made perfect in weakness (2 Cor 12:9). When we enter into service, not under our own power or abilities, but with the full knowledge and admission that we can NOT do anything apart from God, to whom are we assigning glory? Certainly not ourselves, in our weak and flawed flesh. We accept that, without God, we are insufficient. And through our weakness, our junk, our messes, He is evident, He is perfect, He is glorified.

The more humbly we submit ourselves and our mess to Him, through service, the more we have to rely on His power to get us through. The more evident it becomes to those we are serving, that we are not the ones responsible for our seemingly endless grace or love or wisdom. It can only be God.

And isn’t that how it should be? All the glory, honor, and praise going to God, instead of to ourselves in our own abilities?

So, instead of hitting the spiritual elliptical (whatever that looks like for you: becoming the model Christian, strengthening your apologetics, or waiting for maturity to smack you upside the head), hit your knees. Admit that you can’t do whatever it is you’re being called to do. Tell God that this task is so far outside of your abilities that you’ll puke on the mats (figuratively, of course). Beg His help, His guidance, His presence.

And then get up and do it. Because His grace is sufficient for you; God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong (1 Cor 1:27). God chose you. He is with you in your obedience. Joshua 1:9 assures us of this promise: Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.

So get off the spiritual treadmill and get on your spiritual mission.

Army of Praise

…the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. ¹¹Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger."

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests."

~Luke 2:10-14

An army.  A multitude.   A great number.  What do these words call to mind?

I see endless seas of faces, rows of uniforms, numberless figures.  Countless individuals.

It struck me recently, for the first time, that at the heralding of our Lord’s birth, an army of angels could not help but burst into worship.  They literally filled the skies with their presence and song!  Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God [Luke 2:13].

[For those more literally minded, I checked the actual definitions; military units are comprised of: Squad: 9-10 soldiers, Platoon: 20-40 soldiers, Company: 70-200 soldiers, Battalion: 300-1000 soldiers, Brigade: 3000-5000 soldiers, Division: 10000-15000 soldiers, Corps: 20000-100000 soldiers]

100,000. ~ An army.

Granted this is a human number.  Something we can quantify, something with which we can identify.  For perspective, I even had to take away from this value.  I have visited the Broncos’ stadium, said to hold upwards of 76,000; and for the purpose of this musing, I will use this quantification.  This is not, however a Biblically mandated, prescribed, nor described number.  It is merely a tool I am using to help me understand the magnitude of this passage. 

Can you picture 76,000 heavenly beings filling the sky with their radiant presence, their ethereal voices ~ all lifted in worship of the babe laying as willing, helpless sacrifice in a trough?  76,000 unable to stand idly by and watch as their king was born into human flesh.  76,00 bent on proclaiming His arrival on Earth.  76,000 desperate for mankind to see the gift they had been given.  76,000 pleading for us to recognize what they already knew.

The roar, the thunder, the magnitude of noise from such a number is palpable, infectious, deliberate.  These beings could not help but let the world know their king was amongst them.  They simply couldn’t help themselves.

What if we approached our worship with this kind of reverence?  If we couldn’t help but cry out to the world?  If we knew that we were joined by literally thousands of heavenly entities?  If every time we thought of Baby Jesus, His name was accompanied by the praise from a football-stadium of heavenly hosts.

Celestial beings couldn’t help but herald the arrival of their king into our world.  Let’s paint our faces, wear appropriate attire, dance and sing our hearts out for our King ~ Jesus, the Messiah!

Made for walking

Since God chose you to be the holy people he loves, you must clothe yourselves with tenderhearted mercy, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. Make allowance for each other’s faults, and forgive anyone who offends you. Remember, the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others. Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds us all together in perfect harmony. And let the peace that comes from Christ rule in your hearts. For as members of one body you are called to live in peace. And always be thankful.

~ Colossians 3:12-15

Yes, I know what you’re thinking:  Jen is blogging about shoes?  Jen? I’ll be the first to admit that I wouldn’t know a pair of Manolo Blahnik’s if they hit me in the head [I had to google the brand, to be sure I had it correct.  Side note: $1,500 for shoes?!  Are you kidding me?].  In actuality, this installment is more about choice than footwear.  About growing up, putting on our big girl shoes, and walking out our faith.

After reading Colossians 3: 12-15, let me ask you: how quickly do you forgive?  How patient are you?  How humble?  Frankly, how evident are the fruits of the Spirit in your life?  (Oh don’t worry, I’ve been asking myself these very questions of late; and the answers weren’t what I was hoping.)  For a moment, let’s just agree that none of us posses these qualities to their fullest.  So how do we go about getting them?  In truth, this process is a journey, very like a mountain climb, with the love of our life waiting patiently at the top.

First, we have to recognize that we can not attain these on our own.  Only the Holy Spirit can bring this fruit into our lives.  Once we are indwelt (through belief in and a life surrendered to Jesus Christ), we receive the fullness of the power of the Holy Spirit; in that, we are able to be completely transformed and therefore exhibit these qualities.  Secondly, we have to draw closer to Christ; through prayer, reading Scripture, and worship.  And the closer we come to Him, the more we yearn for Him.  In gaining intimacy with Jesus, He calls us to finally surrender everything to Him.  Our desires, our pasts, our emotions…everything.

We each are being called to deeper intimacy with the Lover of our Souls.  And we each are faced with choices:

1. To heed this call and head up the mountain or stay exactly where we are – distant from Christ and His amazing love
2. How to make the journey

Assuming that we choose to embark upon the climb up the mountain, we have to decide how to clothe ourselves for this trek.  We can select worldly garments; emotions or behaviors that look like the rest of the world.  We can opt for comfortable clothes; mannerisms that are familiar, well-practiced.  Or we can choose attire that reflects our journey; sensible actions, though seemingly out of place, that help our climb, ferry us closer to our destination.

We have to recognize our choice in this process.  We are not called to feel humble, forgiven, or loving.  We are told to clothe ourselves with these attributes.  To purposefully select and then put on these behaviors.  Like going into our closet everyday, we don’t feel shoes on our feet.  We choose what to put on.  And we have to keep our mountain climb in mind when selecting our footwear.



Looking like the world:  These shoes make me feel good.  No, they aren’t comfortable and yes, they hurt my feet.  But, they make me feel like I look good.  They’re my “I want people to think I’m put together” shoes.  My “notice me” shoes.

Pride.  Anger.  Bitterness.  These are emotions the world expects, and to an extent admires when we wear them.  When wronged, it makes sense to seek vengeance, to exult our selfish agendas over other’s needs.  To put ourselves first.

But these are utterly ridiculous for climbing a mountain. Wearing them guarantees a fall, and a potentially debilitating injury.  I will be sitting on the side of the trail, not making any progress towards to the top, nursing wounds brought on by wearing these foolish shoes on a serious hike.

These emotions do more harm to me than not.  They may look good, in the world’s eyes; but they are slowly crippling me.



Comfortable shoes: These shoes reflect familiar patterns.  The ones we’ve been practicing for years.  Our behavioral habits that say, “I’m comfortable here.”  Doubt.  Insecurity.  Striving.  I know these; they’re well-worn, molded to my foot after years of wear.  At the end of the day, it’s so much easier to put these on.  When I’m tired, when I let my guard down.  When I am weak.  I turn to these out of habit.  They certainly don’t compliment any outfit I own.  I look silly wearing them in public.

And again, they are ridiculous for climbing a mountain.  Wearing these, every little rock or thorn will pierce my skin through the soles.  They will gather and hold brambles.  I could, possibly make it to the top of the mountain wearing these.  But it will take far too long.  I will be in constant pain; and I will despise the journey.  Most likely I won’t make it far.  I will be forced, by injury (whether minor or more serious) to abandon my climb.  To be stagnant.  And lonely.



Hiking boots: They really don’t go with much; they don’t attract attention of people around me.  I don’t put them on at the end of the day seeking comfort.  But in heading up the mountain, these are the shoes that will protect me from rocks, from hurting my ankles. They will give me traction and help speed me along my climb.  I won’t arrive at the top with blisters, or thorns hanging off the sides.  In these, I will see the vista promised me.

Forgiveness.  Love.  Humility.  Certainly not behaviors the world admires.  Each takes work; they aren’t as easy or familiar as our current habits.  And yet, choosing to clothe ourselves with these will bring us into a more intimate relationship with our Lord.

It’s our choice.  We must clothe ourselves appropriately.