Faith
Forerunner
I received a comment on last week’s blog post Heaven’s Anchor via email that was too good to not share with you all – as a post all of it’s own. You’ll recall the verse:
We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf, having become a high priest forever after the order of Melchizedek.
— Hebrews 6:19, 20 ESV
The commenter said: Read More
Heaven’s Anchor
Hope. There’s a word we throw around quite easily, whether it’s a casual ‘fingers crossed’ for a specific birthday gift, or the earnest belief of triumph despite tragedy. In my musing meanderings this week, I decided I needed to know what it really meant.
As I reflected on these four heart-buoying letters, my initial thoughts were that it simply conveyed confidence about future expectations. My mind’s eye conjured images skyward, ethereal and misty. When I went to the scriptures, however, I found a different picture in Hebrews: Read More
The Cup of Deliverance
The night before He died…
Jesus celebrated Passover with His disciples in the Upper Room. Together, they ate the Passover meal according to the ritual laid out in the Jewish Seder, a worshipful ceremony which celebrates God’s work in their national history. The Seder service retells their story through four ‘cups’: the Cup of Freedom, the Cup of Deliverance, the Cup of Redemption and the Cup of Hallel (Praise).
Each section of the Seder — each cup, if you will — has a story that precedes it. At the conclusion of the storyline, participants consume the whole cup of wine or juice. The second cup, the Cup of Deliverance, specifically commemorates God’s work in freeing the Israelites from their slavery in Egypt through each of the plagues and ultimately the death of all firstborn (Exodus 7-12). In my study of the Passover meal, I learned that this second cup is not a full cup of wine.
In the Bible, a full or overflowing cup is a symbol of joy or satisfaction.
The Jewish people take no joy in the many deaths their deliverance required. And so, when the wine is poured for the Second Cup, it is filled only partially. Furthermore, in the telling of the Second Cup, the Jews recount each of the ten plagues and spill a drop of wine for each plague, representing a loss of joy due to the suffering of their enemies.
As we solemnly observe Maundy Thursday and Good Friday in anticipation of Easter this Sunday, I wonder if we might take a cue from Israel and pour our glasses only partially full at mealtimes in the coming days before Easter when our joy is again full.
In this might we remember that our deliverance from the wages of sin cost Jesus His life.
He died for us while we were still His enemies (Romans 5:6-8). His willingness to drink the cup set before Him, purchased our redemption.
Consider participating in or hosting a Christian Seder;
I recommend Ann Hibbard’s book,
Family Celebrations at Easter.
Washed Away
I consider it chemotherapy for my prideful, sinful nature.
All it takes is a few moments standing at the edge of the ocean for me to be reminded swiftly and surely of my utter insignificance but for the love of God.
I got a hefty dose this week during a trip to Portland. We’d migrated to the coast mid-morning and were frustrated at the onslaught of rain, which relegated us to indoor activities instead of beach-combing and tidepool-sleuthing. My kids were quickly disinterested in the options available to us. I was quickly ‘disinterested’ in their attitudes. As the day progressed, our patience for one another eroded. Eventually, as darkness approached with rain-unabated, we pulled on rain boots, donned hats, gloves and coats, and extended umbrellas. Out we went to savor whatever we could of this precious time at the edge. Read More
What is Love?
No, I’m not referring to Haddaway’s 1990’s hit, revived by the SNL ‘Roxbury’ sketches.
Every year around Valentine’s Day, 1 Corinthians 13 trends on Twitter and Facebook because of its references to love. The same passage is so commonly used in wedding ceremonies (mine included) that it’s almost a pre-requisite.
I’m tempted to roll my eyes at the litany of 1 Corinthians 13 Tweets and status updates, because the word used in that passage for love is a Greek word (agapē). Agapē describes the love that only God can manifest, not the romantic love (eros) touted on February 14th. Agapē is the word used in 1 John 4:8 to describe God Himself. By contrast, the Greek word used in the Bible to describe the interrelationships of humans is phileō.
Tiptoe or Dance?
As I pull open the door to the sanctuary each week, my eyes search immediately to see whether or not he’s playing that day: the man on the guitar, in the back. As I lack any musical ability whatsoever (someday I’ll recount my 7th grade choir audition for you), I don’t know the specific instrument he plays; I just know it’s in the guitar ‘family.’
We have a gifted, faithful and God-centered group of musicians who offer their time and talent back to the Lord each week. I regard them each highly. This man, however, stands out to me, despite the fact that he’s not ‘up front’ as one of the vocalists of the team.
You see, at any given point during the music, it is evident to me that he is utterly and unabashedly worshipping. He’s not leading song for the rest of us, he is worshipping. And it’s beautiful. His feet keep time in a march of praise. He doesn’t wear a mic, but he sings. He turns his body slightly off center, away from us, almost as if that physical act reminds him for Whom he plays: God alone. His eyes are often closed, but without any spiritual pretense. He seems oblivious to the presence of another person in the room, let alone many people, giving no attention to what others might think of him. Read More
Giving…With Just Cause
Should we base our tithe on our pre-tax or post-tax income? This debate occurs somewhat frequently in circles when the topic of tithing arises. I’ve asked the question, too.
Frankly, I’ve decided it’s beside the point. I find it to be a flimsy veil behind which hands are clenched tightly around dollars and ‘stuff.’ What, then, will liberate treasure from our grubby little mitts?
Commitment and Sacrifice
With commitment comes a loss of freedom. Committing to give in the form of dollars or hours implicitly requires denial of self in another area, if for no other reason than we lack infinite resources.
Sacrifice, by definition, isn’t sacrifice unless it costs something. When we give to a charitable organization, including churches, we commonly deduct it on our Federal taxes, rendering our sacrifice less costly to us. Read More
Bearing the Banner
My favorite read from 2011 was the book Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand, who wrote the story of Louis Zamperini’s most remarkable life. I eagerly tuned into the the podcast of his recent visit to a church in the Bay Area.
At 94 years of age, undeterred by a broken leg, this man was intent on sharing his story: God’s story as revealed in his life. He was, by all accounts, a hooligan in his younger years, then discovered a more productive (and legal) use of his energy: running. He competed in the Olympics before becoming a bombardier in WWII, only to endure the unthinkable (that word scarcely does it justice; please read the book). His reflections, shared with those in attendance, bore God’s message of hope, faith, forgiveness and redemption.
This means that anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone; a new life has begun!
— 2 Corinthians 5:17 NLT
The Most Hazardous Shopping Trip Ever
By now you know that I take God’s Word seriously. I want you to also know that I don’t take myself too seriously. Life in a fallen world can be heavy and painful, which must be answered with Defiant Praise. I think it also warrants purposeful seeking of laughter and levity, so we interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to bring you this message:
I was scheduled to attend a special event and had bought an outfit to wear to it. The new clothing warranted some more ‘substantial’ undergarments than I currently had in my wardrobe. Off I went to the nearest department store and surveyed the vast array of options to lift, slenderize, and smooth my lumpy self. It appeared that all the marketing adjectives were just euphemisms for ‘squeeze’ or ‘squish’.
I selected several tank tops and camisoles in my size and ducked covertly into the dressing room. As I pulled the first candidate over my head, it required some rather exaggerated movements to get it into position.
I think I stood a few inches taller in that narrow mirror: the sausage casing had redistributed my volume into a longer but narrower profile. My breathing was shallower, but not so much so that I felt lightheaded. Surely these were indications of the efficacy of the not-your-grandmother’s-girdle? The fluorescent lights seemed to offset whatever bulge-reducing benefits the apparatus offered. As a gal who really doesn’t enjoy shopping, I was eager to draw this escapade to a close. No need to try on the others; this one would suffice.
I crossed my arms, grasped the hem of the camisole near my hips and started to pull it off. I was successful in my effort until I reached the bottom of my ribcage. I couldn’t get it up any higher, much less all the way over my head and off. These garments should come with warning labels like toddler pajamas that aren’t flame retardant: caveat try-er on-er.
In the last year I’ve been suffering from a shoulder injury: an inflamed rotator cuff. Raising my arms more than 60° from hanging at my sides results in sharp pain. As a result, I’m extremely weak on my left side. The ugly truth set in: getting out of that camisole was going to require strength I simply didn’t have. I actually began to panic as I realized the gravity of my situation:
I was stuck.
In shapewear.
In a fitting room.
What does one do in such a situation? Rational thought escaped me. Was it oxygen depletion?
LifeCall commercials from years-past flashed through my mind: “Help, I’m stuck in some Spanx and I can’t get out.” I wasn’t wearing my necklace.
Dressing rooms, unlike hospital rooms, don’t have an emergency call button to page the nurses’ station.
Dial 911 on the phone and help is on the way for life-threatening circumstances. What’s the number for emergency underwear extraction?
Suddenly the thought of help arriving to deliver me from the fashion flames was more frightening than staying in the dressing room eternally. Generations of mothers have warned their children to always change their underwear in case they’re found in an unfortunate predicament. Well, this yet-unpurchased underwear was definitely clean, but I had absolutely no desire to be found only partially in it. Some sausage had escaped the casing and its’ bulge was exaggerated by the tourniquet-effect of the shapewear sitting mid-midriff.
No, I’ll just stay here. In the dressing room. Surely after a number of days without nourishment it won’t be so tight and I’ll be able to get myself out. I clearly wasn’t considering how the lack of nourishment would also affect my strength. (I told you rational thought had escaped me.)
Minutes passed as I sat on the narrow bench under the fluorescent glow, deliberating on my predicament. I decided to make one more attempt having rested my shoulder briefly. This was my Hail Mary: everything depended on it.
I made it out. A bit unconventionally (think down, not up), but nonetheless out. It was like wrestling a crocodile. Steve Irwin (may he rest in peace) ain’t got nothin’ on me. No, siree.
Is this why women go shopping together? To prevent accidents such as these? We need to have an ECT (Emergency Clothing Technician) with us when we brave the dressing room?
By the time I’d paid for my goods and made it to the car, the whole situation was hilarious to me.
Perhaps it was oxygen circulating properly again.
but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.
Our Good
The dawning of a new year brings optimism to my perspective that isn’t normally there. I find myself eager and undaunted by the enormity of my goals. While it’s true that we have opportunity to make changes and set goals every day, the January 1 juncture catalyzes my review of year-past and desires for year-future.
After reflecting on the recent months of blogging, one post stood out to me: the post that we wrote together for Thanksgiving. It expressed the true desire of my heart for the purpose of Eight Twenty-Eight, that we would see God’s redemptive purpose achieved in all the happenings of our lives. We are often the tools He uses — through our shared stories, mutual encouragement and burdens borne. And yet, the tagline didn’t adequately capture that. So, I present to you the new Eight Twenty-Eight tagline:
All things. Our good. His glory.
We’re on this journey together, for God has brought us here. Participate with me, as you already have, through your comments and emails. Be a part of His work in the lives of “those who love Him and are called according to His purpose.”
What are your hopes for this year? Are you reading the Bible all the way through? Memorizing scripture? Committing to prayer at a certain point in your day? Joining a study? Aiding widows, orphans or those suffering injustice? Finding new ways to love your neighbor? Reducing your spending to increase your giving?
Whatever it may be, I pray your resolve includes allowing others to see how God is using you, shaping you, growing you. Invite them into your heart so they may see the work of Christ. I’d love to hear about it, too.
Some passages to consider as you ponder and plan for 2012:
Philippians 3:
Remember what we have gained in Christ, and what we strain for.
1 Corinthians 10:
Our choices should glorify God and not cause others to falter.
Colossians 3:
Live as a redeemed person, and help others do the same.
My prayer for each of us is that God’s Word will illumine our paths (Psalm 119:105) and make them straight (Proverbs 3:6). Happy New Year!