How a bloody toilet made me love Jesus more

She came over and cleaned my bloody toilet after I miscarried.

How do I repay that?

I could never write enough thank you notes to that friend who willingly and lovingly entered into my mess the way she did when I was not well.

I told her I didn't know how to repay her, and she told me of the time others entered into and cleaned up her mess...when she so sick from the chemo treatments...

At first I was embarrassed to be needy, but now I'm grateful for that experience.  It has acted to me as a blessed reminder that this was the state of my soul before Christ came.

This morning at church, we sang "O Holy Night" and I stood, hands raised, tears streaming down my cheeks, thinking of that holy night divine....when Jesus left heaven where things are perfect and whole to willingly come to this earth where things are fractured and enter into our mess.

Why would he do that???

"Because of My great love," He whispers to me.

He is so other.  So different than us.

We seek and strive for recognition and admiration.

He made himself nothing, a little baby who would grow up to willingly be well acquainted with suffering and bitterest grief.  God's son, equal in power and glory with his Father, riding on a lowly donkey.

Maybe that's the thing about Him that most baffles me, most humbles and amazes me...that he made himself low on our behalf.  He, a king, THE King, made himself nothing because of His love.

...but [He] emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name...

Phillippians 2:7-9

My heart bursts with joy at the thought of Jesus coming into our messed up world for us!

Thank you, Lord Jesus!

For Unto Us a Child is Born!

My brother Matt started a school in the worst neighborhood in Atlanta.  It's full of dilapidated houses and drug deals on the corners and prostitution and, among all that,... little children.

Last Christmas, we piled into Matt's van as he drove us around that neighborhood, explaining what goes down in this or that area of the neighborhood.  He lives in a nearby neighborhood with his family, and I couldn't help but notice how relaxed he was as he drove us slowly through the crack-house lined streets of English Avenue.  I was in the back seat with my sweet little niece and nephews, "casually" checking to make sure the doors were locked as two men appeared to be walking toward our van to see if we were there to buy drugs.

I wanted to say, "Matt, drive faster!  What the heck are you doing!  They think we're here for something else because we're driving slow and keep circling around!"  But my brother, in his confident way, just waved at them and kept driving...slowly, sharing with us his heart for the generation of children who are growing up in this neighborhood.  "See, right there! (pointing to two little kids).  They need a future.  They are why we have to start this school."  A pretty young girl (I estimated about 19 years old?) came walking out of an abandoned house to the right of us. I saw my dad in the front seat look at her with such compassionate eyes as he said, "Oh no, what a pretty girl."  And we all sadly wondered what she was just doing in there.  And a fervent prayer poured out of my mouth that God would draw her to Himself and have mercy on her.  I felt His heart for her.

My heart breaks to think about it even now.  That this is the story of many people.  The broken and the lost among us. How often I ignore them.

I think sometimes about the need for good teachers in the inner city.  My friend Christin is one of them.  I love her stories.

And then I think about me.  I have taught for 12 years in classical Christian schools in fairly affluent communities around the country.  Learned communities, clean communities.  I look at what Matt is doing and sometimes wonder if it would be more noble of me to teach in the 'hood.  Maybe I shouldn't be teaching at a classical Christian school in a nice neighborhood.

But then I think - Wait, the poorest of the poor or the wealthiest of the wealthy have this in common: the message of the Gospel is the same for them both.....They are both, we are all, in desperate need of a Savior.  Brokenness is everywhere.

I see a younger version of myself in many of my students. Happy students who aren't yet aware of the depravity of the world or the depravity of their own hearts and their great need for Jesus.

They think they're good enough.  That their families are good enough.  Like I did. That because they're not like those "bad" people, God loves them and accepts them.

I used to ask my 2nd graders, "Why do you think God gave us the Ten Commandments?" And the answer I got all the time was, "So that we can try harder to be good."

And that's when I broke it to them: "The Bible says you can never be good enough.  I can never be good enough. Your parents can never be good enough.  Our very very best behavior is not good enough for God."  And they would sit wide-eyed and confused, looking at me wondering what I would tell them next.  I could hear their thoughts: Didn't their moms drop them off at school this morning and tell them to "Be good"??  Isn't "being good" the goal?  Being clean? Being richer and happier?

And then I got to do my most favorite part of my job:  plant the seed of the Gospel and pray that it will take deep root in their hearts and grow over time.  I told them howJesus lived a perfect life because we couldn't do it.  That He's the only one who never broke any of the Ten Commandments. That all we have to do is put our trust in Jesus, believing that He is the only one "good enough" to God, admitting that we have no righteousness in ourselves.  And just like that, God accepts us.  He sees His perfect Son when He looks at all those who trust in Jesus to be their righteousness for them.

Among other subjects, I get to teach Bible.  When I taught 2nd grade, I was tasked to cover Genesis through Deuteronomy, the familiar Bible stories most of us know if we grew up in Sunday school: The Creation story, Adam and Eve, the Fall, Moses leading the people out of Egypt, the 10 Commandments, etc.  No problem.

When I was hired to teach 4th grade though at my new school in Florida, I learned I would be responsible for teaching all the Prophets (Elijah through Malachi).  Yikes!  It was the part of the Bible I was least familiar with (Obadiah?  Nahum?).  I could name the books of the Bible, but up until that year, I wasn't able to clearly articulate what was happening historically during those prophet years or how these men's books fit into the overall narrative of the Bible.  What if I butchered it?!

I remember collecting promises from some of these books in college, writing an out-of-context verse here and there in my journal and letting God speak to me through it. But I was missing so much of the big picture story of Israel that would have illuminated those verses to me.  I didn't know what I was missing.

I had a vague impression that I was missing a lot, but I was content for a long time to not know what those books were really about.

God in His sovereign wisdom though stirred my curiosity to take a class that was being offered at my church in Kansas City on the Prophet Books long before I knew I would be teaching on those books in Florida.  And the teacher before me left me fantastic outlines too which have have been a huge help.

I had a pastor once who would say, "When we study the Bible, we first have to know what God was speaking to the people then, before we can know what He is speaking to us now." 

Basically, I tell my students that the Prophet Books are full of bad news, followed by good news.  Israel divided into two kingdoms, Israel and Judah, when some of the tribes did not want to follow one particular king.  Israel continued to sin, worshipping false gods, acting unjustly to the poor among them, trusting other nations to protect them instead of trusting God, etc.  So God sent prophets to warn them to repent or He would send judgement.

The people of Israel didn't know they were far off from God.  They half-heartedly followed Him, doing a religious ritual here and there, while mostly doing what they wanted.

A holy God, by his very nature, cannot tolerate sin (or He wouldn't be holy).  Israel's God, in his perfect holiness, could not ignore their perpetual sin any longer.  Like any loving parent, he HAD to discipline them. He had to correct them.  Fourth graders get this when I say, "Would your mom and dad do nothing if you continued to disobey them over and over again?  If they told you not to eat any cookies before dinner, and you ate a handful of Oreos before dinner in plain sight of your parents, would they turn their heads and pretend like you did nothing wrong? If you continued to hit your brother after your parents clearly told you not to, would they pretend they didn't see it?  Of course not!  They love you! They cannot ignore your sin!"

So God let Israel be taken captive by the Assyrians.  And later on, Judah, who thought they were let off the hook, was taken captive by the Babylonians.

Over and over, in the Prophet Books, we see the same thing - God sends a prophet to:

1. Warn of impending judgement because of Israel and Judah's continued sin
2. Describe their sin
3. Describe the coming judgement
4. Call them to repentance
5. Promise a future deliverance

Bad news, then good news.

We're studying Isaiah right now in fourth grade, and oh! I love it!  We are discussing Isaiah's message of hope that God still loves his people even though he had to punish them.....and that ultimately God would send a Savior who would bear all their sins.

For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given;
and his name shall be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
-Isaiah 9:6

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We listened to the Hallelujah Chorus of Handel's "Messiah" after reading Isaiah 9:6, where Isaiah is prophesying about Jesus, our Savior's, birth.  Hallelujah indeed!

I love teaching my students how all the books of the Bible point to Jesus.  If you have a reader in the family, these books make great Christmas gifts!

How to Read the Bible through the Jesus Lens

The Jesus Storybook Bible - Great for kids and adults!

Merry Christmas, friends!  A Savior was sent for us!  I hope you are enjoying this season!

He cares for the sparrow. He cares for me.

The other day when I was leaving church, I was talking to a new friend on our way to our cars.  Her name is Sally.  She's old enough to be my mother, but we connected as friends immediately.  Sally is one of the most edifying people to be around.  Her words are careful, and she exudes the joy of the Lord.

While we were talking, she discovered that me and Matt are moving to Orlando.

I had been wondering that week what our future there would look like, home-wise and job-wise for me.  It was a little early for details to come together, and I was growing curious.

Perhaps due to personality-type or birth order (youngest), I'm typically not one to wring my hands in worry about the future.  I've always figured, "Things will work out" and "I'll be taken care of." Loose plans are fine with me. Adventurous even.

However, this particular week I was wondering what those plans would actually look like and was feeling a little weary of home searches online and was already starting to miss our church in Kansas City where I have benefitted so much from the teaching and equipping.

It's amazing how wonder and curiosity can dip in and out of the realm of worry.

I was telling Sally, with a twinge of wonder and questioning in my voice, how I hoped we would find a Gospel-centered church quickly, that the Lord would lead us...

She listened and encouraged me of His goodness.  At that very moment, we looked down and saw, laying right there in the parking lot, a perfectly formed, dead little sparrow. 

I didn't take a picture, because I was in the moment and wasn't thinking about taking a picture.  But take my word for it.  It was the sweetest looking little sparrow laying on its side.

She said, "Aw, look! A sparrow!"

As soon as I saw it, I knew what the Lord was saying to me.  I felt such assurance, and my eyes watered a little.

The same verse came to both of our minds.

What is the price of two sparrows—one copper coin?

But not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it.

And the very hairs on your head are all numbered.

So don’t be afraid; you are more valuable to God than a whole flock of sparrows.  ~Matthew 10:29-31

She gently said with a kind smile and a hand on my hand, "See, He cares for the sparrow. How much more does He care for you?  He will take care of you."

As she was talking, I heard Jesus's voice, "I knew when that sparrow fell.  I noticed it.  I notice you now in the parking lot talking to Sally.  I know your thoughts and concerns.  I'm making a way.  You can trust me."

And I drove home thinking about that sparrow and my all-seeing, caring Father.

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White as snow

The other week, I did a thorough reorganizing of my closet because I become meticulously tidy when I can no longer stand being a slob for weeks on end.

Everything has a designated place in my home, but from time to time, those things don't immediately make their way back to their spots.

When needing to get our apartment orderly-looking in a jiffy, I got into a bad habit of throwing loose things into my closet and just closing the door.  Everywhere else looked like a well-kept, tidy home, but I hid a piling secret in my closet.

After several mornings of tiptoeing and squeezing around the pile to find an outfit, I finally decided that enough is enough.

So I set to work one snowy day.

First on the pile.

Then going through each piece of clothing, deciding whether I needed it or not.  You know the drill.

There was refolding, color-coordinating, and bagging.

It took hours.  Partially because I stopped to take a nap.  And I would get sidetracked here and there (oh, look at this box of cards I found from my husband!  Then I would read them...)

When I was younger and would clean my room and organize my closet, my mom would inevitably come back to find me sidetracked, sitting on my floor hours into the process, looking sentimentally through my stuff.  It makes organizing go much slower.  But I don't know how else to be.

My husband asked what I was going to do with my wedding dress, which was tucked away in a box on a top shelf in my closet.  I guess it will just stay in this box until I die, I thought.

Well, strangely, the very next day, I got a message from fellow med school wife Deanna, a photographer looking to take pictures in the recent snowfall of anyone willing to don her wedding dress.

Hmmm....I thought.  It's been years...could I?  All my grading is done... I've been cooped in the house for 3 snowy days.  I'm bored.

So I did it.  It was just the right amount of spontaneity for me.

I spent way too much time trying to make my hair look good, only to create a funny cowlick in the back that wouldn't go away.  And when I did get outside, I didn't care what I looked like anymore, because my only thought was how I could keep my body temperature from plummeting.  It was much colder than I anticipated, but I gave her my word.  And I was already all dressed...so I posed the way she told me to (she was such a good director), and the shoot went on!

And now's the part where I post a shameless picture of myself in my wedding dress.  I love how she captured the light through the veil.

To be honest, I just wanted to put it on again...to feel like a young and pretty bride...vanity of vanities....

But afterwards, it caused me to reflect on something much bigger.  After my fingers thawed out, and I was home again, on the couch, in my sweats, much less glamorous looking, I closed my eyes and thought of myself in that dress, in the snow. So white.  So clean looking. And I thought of myself as Christ's bride.  Once stained and hopeless, dead in my sin.  Now, white as snow, He says!

“Though your sins are like scarlet,

They shall be as white as snow"
Isaiah 1:18

Such joy at the thought!  And then this song came to mind - What Can Wash Away My Sin?

I can be so judgmental sometimes

"God, I thank you that I am not like other men..." ~ Luke 18:11

That self-righteous prayer is so gross.  I found myself thinking this week, "Gosh, I'm sure glad I'm not like that horrible Pharisee."  Wait...ah!

And I remembered other times too.  Times when I have thought of myself more highly than I ought, only to be brought low and reminded of my great need for Jesus:

I had a downstairs neighbor who I judged.

She was kind of weird and never smiled, even when I tried to befriend her.  I thought she hated me.

In apartment living, you can hear your neighbors through the walls from time to time.  One time, I heard what sounded like crazy crying, coming up through the vent.  Like crazy, uncontrollable crying, with yelling.  And at other times, loud, loud singing to Adele.

Yikes.  She's a little unstable. - I thought judgmentally to myself, eyebrows raised superiorly. Nobody saw me think these things.  So my sin was safely hidden...even somehow from myself.

I don't think my sin was in noticing that she seemed unstable.  That was an honest observation. And I felt badly for her, whatever she was going through.

My problem was that in that moment, I felt better than her.  Not that I was doing better, but that I was better.  Made of different stuff.

Fast forward a year later.  This time it was me crying, in my room, alone.  So frustrated. Nobody could see me. So I let myself be raw.  Really raw.  I wept loudly on my bed, letting my disappointment and hurt be laid bare before God.  I threw a comb across the room and heard the satisfying sound of it hit the wall. And I yelled things that no good, Christian girl would yell.

After the release, I was quiet....and suddenly remembered in horror our thin apartment walls. I was horrified that my neighbors, Christians no less, heard me.  No!!  What will they think of me? Only a fool gives full vent to his anger!  Out of the heart the mouth speaks!  Oh no, they'll think I'm crazy!  Or two-faced!  In the days to come, my suspicions grew when the encounters with these neighbors felt...polite, but...weird.  One day, I was overcome with embarrassment and guilt for not being more...admirable. Presentable. Measured. Spiritual. Mature.

I admitted my embarrassment to my husband and a friend.  We joked that I should apologize to my neighbors for the crazy houseguest who was visiting.  That I was trying to minister to her.  Poor soul.

And I felt so ashamed for judging my neighbor the year before, that I thought her less than me.  This is fitting, isn't it, Lord?  You said that we would be judged to the measure that we judge. I'm getting a taste of my own judgement.  Forgive me!

I had seen my sin, in a new light.  My ability to look down my nose at others.  My ability to unleash anger.  My fear of man.  My desire to protect my "image."  My amazing concern for self right after my outburst. My unbelievable pride.

My small group was discussing what "Gospel-Living" looks like, and our tendencies to pretend we're okay or to perform to win God's good graces.  I had to wrestle with this question that was asked - As God thinks of you right now, what is the look on his face?

Delight is the look I'm used to seeing on his face.  But, at this time, I couldn't see His face.  I couldn't see what expression He was making.  It was unclear to me.  Like a gray face.  So I imagined that maybe what I perceived I saw in my neighbors' faces mirrored the expression on His face.  Uncomfortable. Embarrassed for me.  Are you embarrassed by me, Lord?  Are you ashamed of me in this moment, in front of your other ("with-it") children?  If I had responded more maturely in my weak moment, said this and not that, would that have secured the delighted look on your face?

But wait.  If He is ashamed of me, then how is that Good News?  What kind of Gospel am I believing?

There is no one who does good, not even one.

Psalm 53:3

Righteous deeds are like a polluted garment.

Isaiah 64:6

So I made myself imagine what God's face must look like when He looks at His Son, his righteous Son, the one I bank my life on to make me right with God.  And the power of the Good News sunk a little deeper down into my heart, as it does whenever I realize what a pitiful, dirty creature I am and how He has made me righteous through Jesus, His perfect Son.

And I read this in my small group booklet again slowly: "Growing in the gospel means seeing more of God's holiness and more of my sin.  And because of what Jesus has done for us on the cross, we need not fear seeing God as He really is or admitting how broken we really are.  Our hope is not in our own goodness, nor in the vain expectation that God will compromise his standards and "grade on a curve." Rather, we rest in Jesus as our perfect Redeemer - the One who is "our righteousness, holiness, and redemption." (I. Cor. 1:30)

So, today, I am resting in that.

When innocent people pay

Today I received a letter shoved in our door frame from our apartment management office.

It asked us, in no uncertain terms, if we would please not leave our cigarette butts lying all over the ground by our apartment building, as it is "very unsightly and a serious fire hazard."

I agree with the reasons.

However, the eager deliverer failed to notice that the apartment # on the envelope did not match our apartment #.  He meant to deliver it to our neighbors on the ground floor.

"It wasn't us!," I wanted to say.  So I wrote a light-hearted but clarifying email to our apartment office, explaining the little mishap and the fact that, um, we don't smoke.

I'm not guilty.

I didn't do it.

Clear my name!

Don't misunderstand me.

Know me.

One of the saddest things to me is when I hear stories of people who have been falsely accused of some heinous crime and sent away to prison for DECADES before evidence of their innocence finally emerges.

Oh!  Can you imagine??!

Did you see that movie, The Hurricane?

In When God Weeps, the book I'm reading, there is a page that just pierced me to the core the other day.

It describes when God poured out ALL his wrath (I shudder to think) on Jesus for ALL of mankind's specific sins. 

It was gut-wrenching thinking about Him paying a horrendous penalty for horrendous moral failings and crimes that HE DIDN'T DO!

The power of the Gospel became new to me again in that moment.

Here's an excerpt that's worth reading to the end:
[Jesus] begins to feel a foreign sensation.  Somewhere during this day an unearthly foul odor began to waft, not around his nose, but his heart. He feels dirty.  Human wickedness starts to crawl upon his spotless being - the living excrement from our souls. The apple of his Father's eye turns brown with rot.

His Father! He must face his Father like this!

From heaven the Father now rouses himself like a lion disturbed, shakes his mane, and roars against the shriveling remnant of a man hanging on a cross.  Never has the Son seen the Father look at him so, never felt even the least of his hot breath. But the roar shakes the unseen world and darkens the visible sky.  The Son does not recognize these eyes.

"Son of Man! Why have you behaved so? You have cheated, lusted, stolen, gossiped -- murdered, envied, hated, lied.  You have cursed, robbed, overspent, overeaten -- fornicated, disobeyed, embezzled, and blasphemed.  Oh, the duties you have shirked, the children you have abandoned!  Who has ever so ignored the poor, so played the coward, so belittled my name?  Have you ever held your razor tongue? What a self-righteous, pitiful drunk -- you, who molest young boys, peddle killer drugs, travel in cliques, and mock your parents.  Who gave you the boldness to rig elections, foment revolutions, torture animals, and worship demons?  Does the list never end!  Splitting families, raping virgins, acting smugly, playing the pimp -- buying politicians, practicing extortion, filming pornography, accepting bribes.  You have burned down buildings, perfected terrorist tactics, founded false religions, traded in slaves -- relishing each morsel and bragging about it all.  I hate, I loathe these things in you!  Disgust for everything about you consumes me!  Can you not feel my wrath?"

Of course the Son is innocent.  He is blamelessness itself.  The Father knows this.  But the divine pair have an agreement, and the unthinkable must now take place.  Jesus will be treated as if personally responsible for every sin ever committed.

The Father watches as his heart's treasure, the mirror-image of himself, sinks drowning in raw, liquid sin.  Jehovah's stored rage against humankind from every century explodes in a single direction.

"Father!  Father!  Why have you forsaken me?!"

But heaven stops its ears.  The Son stares up at the One who cannot, who will not, reach down or reply.

The Trinity planned it.  The Son endured it.  The Spirit enabled him.  The Father rejected the Son whom he loved.  Jesus, the God-man from Nazareth, perished.  The Father accepted his sacrifice for sin and was satisfied.  The Rescue was accomplished...

This is who asks us to trust him when he calls on us to suffer.

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The weight of suffering

I know that brokenness will always be part of this life, this side of heaven.

Things are just not quite right here, are they?

Sometimes that brokenness hits me like bricks, and I feel my stomach knotting.

The other day I just cried and cried thinking about the effects of brokenness that have touched my friends and my family and me.

There is neglect, past abuse, infertility, betrayal, addictions, and death.

It felt so very heavy.  And broken.  It hurt.  and exhausted me.

My mouth opened as if crying out for help, but no words.

The tears wouldn't stop coming.

A friend of mine once asked me if I thought there was a such thing as intercessory grieving because she had wept for a friend as if it was her own pain.

I think there is such a thing as intercessory grieving.


And right now, I'm remembering this - that Jesus intercessory grieves for me when I feel pain.

That He prays to the Father for me and for us.

It's mysterious to me.  But comforting.

Comforting to remember that He was "a man of sorrows, acquainted with bitterest grief."

That He is not indifferent or immune to our sufferings.

He knows them intimately and well and actually feels them with us.  I wholeheartedly believe this.

While I'm grateful for my sheltered, carefree, relatively painless childhood, as I've grown up, I've learned what the world is really like,...the weight of brokenness that presses down on people,...even God's children,...with the threat to steal hope and leave despair.

A friend of mine in college had done a word study on the word "burden."

She told me that the Greek word for "burden" in Galations 6:2 was related to the word "knapsack."

Bear one another's burdens,

and so fulfill the law of Christ. - Gal. 6:2

While the Hebrew word for "burden" in Psalm 55:22 was related to the word "boulder."

Cast your burden on the Lord,

    and he will sustain you;
he will never permit
the righteous to be moved. - Ps. 55:22

And I thought about what I'm able to carry (in my "knapsack") and what I can't possibly carry ("boulders").  Some things are just too heavy.

Thank God He carries those.

Thinking about all these burdens, I came across this book, written by Joni Earickson Tada.  She knows a thing or two about suffering.

When God Weeps

It just came in the mail, and I'm eager to get started.  Here's part of what I've read thus far:

"This book is about God weeping over human heartache, his entering our anguish himself, and the love that drives him to let us suffer.  It's about experiencing the friendship of God along difficult paths we didn't even know he walked."

Joni 
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I'm looking forward (I know those words may not sound appropriate) to learning more about suffering with hope, experiencing My Father's great love in the midst of heartache, and to learning how to better come alongside people who suffer.

Some of the questions that Joni wrestled with are:

• If God is loving, why is there suffering?
• What's the difference between permitting something and ordaining it?
• When bad things happen, is God in cahoots with the Devil?
• How can he expect me to be happy this way?

And no trite answers to those questions will do, will they.

Sometimes all I can see is the sadness.  But I know my view is limited.  That helps.

And when I am still, I marvel thinking back on how the comfort of His presence in my past low times really has somehow, mysteriously, been....enough.  And that I can hope that it will continue to be enough.  For me.  And for those dear to me who put their hope in Him.

One year

I rarely beat Matt up.

That came out wrong.

I mean I rarely wake up before Matt. 

But this morning, I woke up alert and excited.  I think I was eager to reflect because today marks 1 full year that we've lived in Kansas City.

July 1, 2012
Leaving Colorado Springs, our first home together.

Our moving caravan to Kansas City, one year ago today.

Our church here in Kansas City provides a Weekly Reading Guide with specifically chosen readings that coincide with our current sermon series and the upcoming sermon text.   Today's reading is Psalm 9 which fittingly begins like this:

"I will thank you, Lord, with all my heart;

I will tell of all the marvelous things you have done.

I will be filled with joy because of you.

I will sing praises to your name, O Most High."

                                                                           - Psalm 9:1-2

I am overwhelmed by the Lord's kindnesses to us and perfect guidance this year.  When we first moved out here, we requested three things of the Lord:

1. that He would help us with the details of the move
2. that He would grant Matt the capacity to succeed in med school
3. that He would lead us to a supportive community of friends

Not only did he do all three, He did much more, some of which I didn't even ask for.

• He brought Matt and I through another year of marriage with more empathy for one another than we've ever had.

• He showed me how much trust I put in "being a good teacher" and lovingly let me experience feelings of failure (I felt, for a large part of the year, like I fell short of my own standards), so that, I think, He could root me deeper still in The Good News that being "right with Him" (acceptable/valued...) has nothing to do with what I do well or perfectly but has everything to do with that I identify myself with his Perfect Son, Jesus.

• He led us to a Gospel-centered church.  I mean they focus on the Gospel every. single. week.  And it has changed my heart.  One Sunday our pastor said, "The Gospel is shallow enough for babies to wade in, but deep enough for elephants to drown in" and that, as a Christian, I will forever be growing deeper in the fundamental truths of it.

  

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I love taking communion every Sunday.  It's not a ritual or a meaningless duty.  It has become a joyful time to remember Christ and His righteousness, so that I don't have to be self-righteous or self-loathing.  I very much look forward to it at the end of every service.

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Several years ago, by contrast, I visited a church on July 4th in another city and was discouraged when I left trying to remember if I heard the name "Jesus" even mentioned.  The message focused on patriotism and God's love for America.  I'm not unpatriotic, but my gosh, Uncle Sam didn't DIE for my sins to make me right with God.  I wanted to hear about a different set of stripes that Sunday.  The ones which by I am healed.

I recently got to go to a Women's Conference, and there these realities sunk into my heart deeper in this year of newness and fumbling than perhaps in any of my other more "stellar" years:

• My desire to lay down at night and feel good about myself, to get to the end of the day and say "I'm okay" or "I really am good because I did _______today" is what the Bible calls "righteousness."  The Good News is I don't have to spend my days trying to get it for myself because I already have it in Christ.  If in my mind, my righteousness is Jesus + (anything), I must get the (anything) out of the way.

• When I lay down at night, my mind sometimes plays the game of feeling satisfied with myself (my house is clean, I disciplined my kids/students well, I looked like a good teacher in front of the other teachers, I was a good friend, I read a book AND journaled about it, I made dinner that tasted pretty good and there's enough for leftovers because I was thinking ahead, I didn't nag my husband when I could have) or disappointed with myself (my house is a wreck, my journal is gathering dust, dinner turned out gross and there's leftovers that I feel obligated not to waste, I said something I shouldn't have, and Aw Man! I forgot to follow through with a consequence for that child today!), as I replay the day over in my head, thinking of things I did well or areas where I flubbed and feel like a failure.

Now when I lay down on my pillow, I pray that God brings to my mind the righteousness of His Son, so that I can reflect on the perfect life He lived on my behalf, instead of puffing myself up or beating myself up about the day.

• All of God's wrath for all of my sin was already poured out on Jesus on the cross.  So I don't have to pile wrath on myself at the end of the day when I don't feel like I measured up.   Even on days when I go to bed a little annoyed at myself, my God sees me as righteous because Christ is righteous and I am IN Christ. There is no need to be self-righteous for the good I do, or to feel weighed down by the mistakes I make.

If He moved us to Kansas City just to position my heart to understand these things more, the move was entirely worth it.

*While there are lots of good churches in Kansas City, if you are looking for a church or are just curious, then let me know.  You are welcomed to come with me and Matt!

A sweet homecoming

Joy.  PURE JOY.  That's how I feel while writing this.

My best friend, Kimber, who I first wrote about in this post, has, over the years, selflessly and genuinely celebrated many of our other friends' baby joys, even though she, herself, suffered the tragic loss of her baby 4 years ago, which she wrote about here.

Her story is one of loss and redemption.  How God makes beauty out of ashes.  And I have so learned by watching her and her husband journey through loss, through worshiping in the midst of loss, through hope, through tears, through trusting in the Lord, through waiting, and waiting, and still more waiting.  My faith has been encouraged by her faith, through her experiences of our Lord's comfort and presence through all that life brings.

She started the adoption process 3 years ago, and now the wait is over!  It's at last her joy that we get to share in!  She brought home her newly adopted baby boy from Ethiopia last week.

I decided to fly to Atlanta to surprise her and join the welcoming committee at the airport.

Sidenote - One of my decision-making filters is this:  "Am I going to look back and be glad that I did that?"  If the answer is "yes", then I go for it.  If it is "no" or "I'm not sure", then I don't do it or am more deliberate in my proceedings.  In this case, the answer was an unquestionable "YES!"

So I wrote my sub plans (you're worth it, Kimber) and boarded an Atlanta-bound plane with a joy-filled heart.

And I am indeed glad that I went.  Here is a taste of that celebratory day:

my childhood friend Tatum, me, and my mom ready with our signs

waiting to meet their new cousin

more friends excited to celebrate

These three were also adopted from Ethiopia by some of Kimber's friends in her wonderful adoption community.  It was precious to see them ready to celebrate another little boy being welcomed home into his forever family.

They were ready with their signs too.

an eager crowd

Going through customs and immigration takes time, so we had to hold onto our excitement and our signs a little while longer.

In the meantime, people mingled...

....the kids played games and ate snacks,

...and apparently made friends with the airport security.

Then, the moment we were waiting for arrived:  they were coming!

Miller, Kimber, and Baby Ryder had gotten their bags and were heading to meet us.

Tatum and I got into position, our anticipation at its peak!  Eeeee!!!

And there they were!

This was our reaction (cheers and clapping).  It was such a JOYOUS moment.

After traveling some 36 hours (or something like that), they looked alert and happy.  It brought tears to my eyes.  I don't think I've ever seen my friend look that happy.

Watching her happily carrying their new son home, amid all the cheers and clapping, Jesus's words came forward in my mind:

"I will not leave you as orphans.  I will come to you." - John 14:18

I love Miss Pam's face here (Kimber's mom,  in the orange)

The cousins swarmed.  They were so excited.

Tears of joy.  I was a mess.

It was so sweet to watch Ryder meet his proud grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.

This little guy has no idea what a wonderful family he has just become a part of.

Standing off to the side, watching these family pictures being taken, the truth of the Gospel struck me again.  I felt I would burst with the joy of it all.

I thought, "Wow - what a picture of being adopted by God, into His family.  Here is this former orphan who is now a beloved child, with unconditional love lavished on him, not because of anything he did on his own merit.  And everything this family has is now transferred to him.  That's so powerful!"

Here is what Tim Keller says, "The minute you become a Christian, you have intimacy of relationship. You have an unconditional relationship. You become wealthy, because everything that Jesus Christ has accomplished is transferred to you. You become beautiful and spiritually rich in him."

When Kimber, Tatum, and I used to have sleep-overs and play "Mash" in middle school - that silly game to predict how our lives would turn out (who we would marry, how many kids we would have, where we would live, etc.) - we never included suffering in any of the choices.  We didn't know then that there would be suffering.  We also couldn't have imagined the beautiful, redemptive plans God had in store.

getting sleepy

finally tuckered out from all the traveling and excitement

The celebrations continued when, a couple days later, Kimber's parents hosted a lovely reception.  It was marvelous.  Absolutely marvelous.

 

Aren't these sugar cookies amazing?!

Congratulations, Kimber and Miller!  I am thrilled for you guys and am rejoicing in what God has done!

(pictures courtesy of Vickie Hoffman, Andrea Young, and my mom)