Toddler's pants legs
are almost four inches too short for him. We bought them seven months ago, and at the time they were at his heel. We haven't measured him yet, but I wonder, if his pants legs are this short, is it possible his upper half has grown an equal amount? Is he eight inches taller? It's unlikely. But just a few inches surely makes the world look like a very different place to him: So many big walls have become just fences to look over.
Eight Feet
is the estimation of how much Japan moved, at least part of it, due to the earthquake. It wasn't until the last friend emailed to say she was safe, alone and terrified, but safe, that I felt shook to my core. The aftermath is terrible. I have watched not much. I have watched enough to drive me to my knees whenever I can't be distracted. Eight feet and the world unveils her face to show what she's been all this time: So much more unsteady than we like to think; our lives so small and delicate. God becomes so much bigger in our eyes. A dear friend posted of Psalm 103:13-18 on Facebook. I am thankful she did.
Unbearable
And, somehow in all this, we went to church and led worship. We helped build a new playground. (well...toddler and I mostly played in the huge mound of sand) And the knowledge that I was distracted is unbearable to my heart. But my head knows it's better to pray and do something good. There are so many who are deeply living this tragedy, in need of rest, in need of someone to serve them. For me to be so selfishly dramatic that I exhibit the same response as those immersed in this tragedy, well, is simply foolish.
Pray
While I want to jump on a plane and dream of giving away the flesh of my body and marrow of my bones to help (yes, I am that dramatic). All I can do is pray with every fiber of my being. It's all many of us can do. We can also give to organizations that are mobilized to help.
I Don't Know Why
things happen like this. This song has been running through my head, even though the images might not match perfectly, the theme is still a comfort.
Immaculate...Whaaat?
On the phone with my mom:
"Mom, you HAVE to try these cinnamon rolls you get in the fridge section at the store. They're AMAZING" I gushed.
"Really?" My Mom said, "What's the name of the company so I can find them?"
"Ummm...let me think. Oh yeah, it's Immaculate Conception" And I feel the sudden urge to pause...and rewind.
Mom, "... ..." Silence. After several, very silent, moments, she says "I really don't like that name. Are they trying to be offensive?"
Me, "Huh. That really is a ...weird name. I didn't...notice 'til now."
Of course I didn't notice the controversial name, because the actual company name is an uncontroversial "Immaculate Baking Company." My sister, who was visiting at the time of this awkward phone conversation, went to the fridge, found a container and corrected my (much too common)slip of the tongue. We laughed until our eyes teared.
Ash Wednesday.
I was raised in a variety of Evangelically Free, Assemblies of God and a couple of other Non-Denominational churches. We moved a few times when I was young. Mom was raised Catholic (but is not at all Catholic) Dad was raised Methodist (but would not call himself Methodist). There could be a lot of history to discuss, but I won't get into it. I grew up knowing a comparably fair lot of the bible, but not many church traditions. I had never seen Ashes on someone's head until college.
"What is that?" I asked my friend who had ashes on his head.
"Why didn't you get ashes?" He asked, knowing I was Christian.
"What?" I didn't get it, "What does it mean?"
"It's Ash Wednesday!" He said. "The first day of Lent"
"What is Lent?"
"It's the 40 days before Easter [minus the Sundays]" said he. "We get ashes on our head to remind us to repent. To Dust we return."
"Oh....really?" I said.
"You're hilarious. You've gotta be joking." He said
Raised in Christ since birth, heartfelt follower since 15, I had no idea about any of this season of the Christian church. But, you must remember, there actually is no literal place in scripture that mentions Ash Wednesday. For a bible-bound girl, my ignorance is understandable. I could see the sense in celebrating the 40 days before Easter; it made even more sense to me to celebrate it daily, (hourly, minutely)as I had been taught. I never felt like I had lost out even a bit by not celebrating these seasons, because I could be penitent when my heart acknowledged sin and joyful at the instant redemption any day. It's like a continual ecstatic and sobering season of celebration.
Ten Years Later
Husband now works for an LCMC (formerly ELCA) body of Christ that we love being a part of. He was born in the the WELS and raised in the (WI version of)LCMS. (I am laughing now, all I can exclaim is "Oh, the ACRONYMS!") In spite of my position as wife of someone working for a Lent-celebrating church, I still don't feel I know enough, in detail or experience, to really talk about Ash Wednesday and Lent. A lot of people who've celebrated Lent for years also don't know the details I feel burdened to know when celebrating a religious rite. This comparison doesn't make me feel knowledgable enough, but it makes me brave enough to try and get some ashes on my forehead, too.
(Whether we do or don't do Ash Wednesday and Lent, salvation is in Christ (keep it simple: John 3:16) That is what is important! As far as I understand, the seasonal motions we go through are to help remind us to take time out to remember something important: Any more meaning put to such acts would implicate that we are starting to trust more in our deeds than in Christ Alone! In this case, Lent, repentance: Repent and rejoice in salvation every moment, as well as when celebrating this season that can help us remember!
Back to Immaculate Baking Co.
Anyway (blah blah blah), this Lent I thought I'd try to follow religious rites I had never done before. I will give up those scones and cinnamon rolls by Immaculate Baking Co.. Seems little? Not when my weekly diet is composed of 25% of those amazing treats: Two (almost) every day=400 calories= 25% of my current 1,600 calories a day consumed. Every time I can't have one, it'll be an extra reminder that God provides all I need, and has often provided things that I don't really need, like a daily ration of cinnamon rolls.
Notes : *I've known of and experienced fasting before but never primarily because it was a church season/time of year. *Today: Going without my daily cinnamon roll was much harder than I thought. I've only been eating them daily for about 3 weeks and have, apparently, grown quickly accustomed to my new diet. There wasn't an hour that went by today when I didn't think about 'em. So far, it is a useful tool. A small fast will be a useful tool far beyond the boundaries of Lent, I'm sure.
*Additional Notes: (1)I remember! Somewhere, in an airport or something, I had seen this nearly identical logo on an individually wrapped cookie. The companies are related, but the label was explained at the time. Immaculate Consumption a pun, yes, that holds meaning: Eating clean food. (2) My family isn't Catholic & thus, does not ascribe to the dogma of Mary's sinlessness prior to giving birth to Jesus. My Mom actually didn't like my impromptu title partly because it was (would be) a flippant title with the sole intent of pushing boundaries--boundaries should be pushed with meaning, not simply because of a greedy need for irreverence--even though it wasn't her own beliefs.
Day. The powerful Texas sun is shining down. We are busy, fingernails quite black, planting flowers in places they might not get mowed down. We are a family of black thumbs! But we do love flowers and playing outside in the dirt with a stick (Toddler's roll in gardening).
After an unusually long time in the brilliant (often relentless) Texas sun I meander into our little garden shed to find some seeds and gardeny stuff. Oh, the sudden darkness! I cannot see! I turn on the dim light and there is no helping it, I am blind. It is so awfully dark my eyes ache. I close them, open them. I can see just fine. There is plenty of light to see with.
Night. There are no lights on in the house, the blinds are shut, alarm clocks with lit displays must be covered over. (Actually, that species of alarm clock has been long extinct in our corner of the world.) Lights at night drive me crazy! Little lights: Stereos, alarm clocks, phones, or, cursed blindingly bright night lights in the bathroom that light up the entire hallway as well as our bedroom. Little lights at night burn through my eyelids and beam into my retinae. Little lights make the room obnoxiously bright as day.
Traveling. All the lights in the house are on. One by one, Toddler and I turn them off. We did not plan our route well. The light to his room is on, but we are far away in the kitchen, standing by the last light switch to be turned off. There is a minefield of tables and couches and chairs and blocks to be stepped on in our journey to Toddler's room. I flip the switch off, it's pitch black. "Whew!" I exclaim. The light goes back on. I look to see if Toddler is startled, not in the least. "You ready?" I ask. "Go toward the light ok?" Taking a last look to plan our route to avoid pre-bedtime bruises and tears, I flick the switch and we travel our happy little journey in the dark, hand in hand. When we get to his room, the light is momentarily blinding.
His Light Day. I enter from glorious worship--study, a beautiful time of silence and prayer, a moment of song-- into the mundane routine of diapers and dishes. The contrast is wrenching and vast. I feel suddenly forsaken, beneath an eclipse of routine so thick I am overcome. "Where are You, God?" I ask, "Where did heaven go?" In a pause and a prayer He is still there. There is plenty of light.
Night. In a time of darkness and anguish I am weaker, more susceptible to sin, true. But, I excuse sin during dark times as though it is an accident, like stubbing my toe in the dark. His light is brighter than that oh-so-annoying nightlight in the darkness. His Light cannot be covered or unplugged. I shut my eyes and say "Leave me be." His light is so bright it burns into my soul and I remain without excuse: All my sin is willful.
Traveling. "Hold my hand, it will be dark for you." He says. "Here is the light, a moment of holiness and ease. Keep your eyes open, read, listen. It will be dark soon, but only for a little while. I will not leave you. Hold my hand. Keep your eyes on me." Even the darkest times hold such precious, happy moments of trust. I am His child.
Psalm 119:105-112
Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for
my path.
I have taken an oath and confirmed it, that
I will follow your
righteous laws.
I have suffered much, preserve my life, O LORD, according to
your word.
Accept, O LORD, the willing praise of my mouth and teach me
Covers and Commercials.
Rob Bell's upcoming book, "Love Wins" is already a hot topic, even though it isn't even on sale yet (March 29th is the release date). The source of the buzz: A commercial (half way down this page) and the description of the book by the publisher.
By the cover and commercial it seems the book could go down a couple different paths. Truly, covers and commercials are meant to entice people to read them, right? You can't judge a book by it's cover! The adage remains.
Problem 1: Wordies
However, from this description (Bell seems to be claiming hell is temporary and, eventually, empty) as well asthisone by The Tenth Leper, it seems Rob Bell (or at least his writing) has hit Problem 1: Getting used to answering questions to the point you being to think you can answer ALL of them in your own power. Don't get me wrong, I love questions and I LOVE discussions and debate! Even if I get shut down, debate is refreshing, like a sudden icy shower, or, like when Toddler (only 5 months old here) dumps a glass of iced coffee on you when you least expect it:
Answering questions from a position of authority (especially a book you can't talk back to!), must always be dependent on Christ, God, the Holy SpiritLuke 12:11-12“When you are brought before synagogues, rulers and authorities, do not worry about how you will defend yourselves or what you will say, for the Holy Spirit will teach you at that time what you should say.” Humility/weakness/utter dependence on God's Grace will help us: 2Cor12:9"But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me."
It must be ridiculously difficult not to lose balance when you're set before mankind as a great teacher, as Rob Bell is. But that's what verses, like the ones above, are for. That's why Paul wrote 1Cor13:12”For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.” That chapter is all about love, and it wins (literally! EVERYTHING without it is "dust" and "clanging" etc.) and yet, in the end Paul confesses he doesn't understand it all, but that God knows him fully.
"i dunno." In other words it's ok to say "I don't know." Better yet--in regard to hell--to say, "I trust God knows that person more than I could ever judge." That's right, by that conviction I myself admit: I do not know if Hitler is in hell or Mother Theresa is in heaven. (Do you?) I must rest in God's knowledge. I am sure of His love and my salvation through Him. I am thankful! He is Holy! I don't want to even play judge and jury: I couldn't bear the burden of being God, that's why He IS God.
Hearsay. So far this post is very broad, and much more about "answering questions" than about Rob Bell's book. It's because I haven't read it, but was inspired by the topic to discuss how we are free in Christ to trust in God and say, "I dunno."
Personal Relationship There is, so far, one pointed quote which requires discussion. From this post (quoted from The Tenth Leper)
"What he does positively state is that the phrase “personal
relationship” appears nowhere in Scripture.”Nowhere in the
Hebrew scriptures, nowhere in the New Testament. Jesus
never used the phrase. Paul didn’t use it. Nor did John, Peter,
James, or the woman who wrote the Letter to the Hebrews.” (p.10) (And yes, you read that last sentence right.) "
I don't want to assume why it was necessary for Rob Bell to set this stage in the first chapter of his book. It is one thing not up for debate. We have a personal relationship with Christ.
1) It is obvious we have a relationship with God when Christ mentions over and over God as Father, and not justHis Father (Matt.6, Luke.11. any Gospel anywhere, really).
2) It's obvious we're to have a relationship with our Heavenly Father when Jesus quotes from Deuteronomy that the greatest command is to Matt 22:37 "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind." That's more relationship effort required than what we put into our marriages on a daily basis! Admit it! And it's ok to admit it, we are to love God first, it helps us love others better. 1John4:19 "We love because He first loved us"
3) How can a personal relationship not exist when Christ lives in us? 1John 4:13-16, 19 "We know that we live in him and he in us, because he has given us of his Spirit. And we have seen and testify that the Father has sent his Son to be the Savior of the world. If anyone acknowledges that Jesus is the Son of God, God lives in him and he in God. And so we know and rely on the love God has for us....We love because he first loved us."
4) Our very personal relationship with God is most obvious when Christ taught us to pray and told us to call God "Abba" or "Daddy." What an intimate relationship there is between child and father!
Daddies Protect
Daddies Adore
...and so much more...
4 final notes: 1There's much much more to this topic, but it's covered on The Tenth Leper. 2Heaven and Hell are so much more than what's just implied when we say them, I'm trying to keep it simple. I've enough "wordies" issues of my own. 3It's possible Rob Bell brings up the specific lack of the phrase "personal relationship" with Christ(/God/Holy Spirit)" in order to disassemble the current fundamentals for salvation. But so far, I haven't seen that argument raised (it seems to have been, but it hasn't, yet). My current point: a personal relationship is established! It is more than obvious! And it is a lovely thing to talk about, anyway! 4 Videos on blogger are annoying, if the posted video gets in the way of the text, refresh the page.
Tonight, I miss Japan. Maybe it's because I planted Hydrangeas あじさい and several other flowers, for which I learned the Japanese name before learning the English counterpart, outside. Maybe it's the balmy weather.
I miss the breeze of the room in this video.
I miss the cool tatami and the (mostly) empty room.
I miss the walk past ばあちゃん's restaurant, as she would applaud our evening walks with praise and a kind hello.
So many walks, most of them to Showa no Mori.
So many hydrangeas and plum blossoms and cherry blossoms.
And the view to the ocean, just eight or so miles away.
Beyond the lights of Oami.
Yesterday two middle school girls had a sleep over at our place. So I guess it was me that had the sleep over. We watched a Japanese drama. There is so much kindredness to be felt because you share a TV show with someone, it becomes a much more dramatic feeling when the show is a subtitled JDrama few others would like; even more noticeable when it's a 30 year old woman sitting down with two 13 year old girls (hilarious girls who have great sass and character!).
It's intimidating, other women tell me, to talk to teenagers. Is it? Most of them are just people; just younger; just sweeter (mostly); just more open hearted and tender with their words, although biting words are also used as loosely, too. I stayed up late with two 13 year old girls, chatting about dreams and hopes and crushes and sometimes the mommy banter popped out. But was it mommy-ish to remind them of the same things I prayed over and over and over at the same age? I don't think it was, it was just me now, and then: The same scared little girl trying to remember her heart's priorities.
Proverbs 4:23 Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.
and
Song of Solomon 2:7 Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you by the gazelles and by the does of the field: Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires.
I suppose it was mommy-ish when I told them how I had been lucky, blessed, annointed (take your pick); to never have loved (in the ultimate romantic sense) anyone besides Husband. (My heart had been tender to others, even hurt by others; there has been more than enough drama but it was never given away in love. I think the girls LOVED hearing that a guarded heart doesn't mean missing out on drama, at least, I know the 13 year old me I would have been quite relieved to hear I wouldn't miss out on the tears and intensity!) God answered those fervently prayed scriptures. Acknowledging Him was--and is--knit into every syllable as I would sing the lines from "Come Thou Fount" that say, "Prone to Wander, Lord, I feel it; prone to leave the God I love. Here's my heart, Lord, take and seal it, seal it for Thy courts above." In the end, there is no heavier reality than the future beyond the life we're living now. It is hard to see, it is hard to remember, but the soul is always tugging in the direction home.
In the end, we laughed equally over each others' dramas, and ooed our pains and concerns. I didn't give most of the conversation a second thought, which is probably why it was so easy and real: nothing was distracted with the concern: Do I awkwardly interject with grown-up wisdom?
To my lovely friends, amazingly enough (not really amazing, is it? It's how things are meant to be), my added bit of mommy-ness experience recounting was true romance, beyond looking for Edward Cullen,or Mr. Darcy, and sudden happy endings in general. We laughed over the quotes from hilarious fights; Toddlers mishaps, and stories of how our happy ending continues. And I think we all needed to hear and know that there is such a thing as a sweet and simple Happy Unending.
A friend recently wrote what she had been doing during Cornerstone 2000. The year that it rained I was there, too. Her mention of the rain brought a slew of memories I have been trying to simplify enough to make sense of. I don't know what the meaning of this post really is. Maybe it is just a story. It's not written wonderfully, but it is solid enough and not terribly confusing at least.
CORNERSTONE 2000
I was wearing my favorite boots and favorite pants; standing in front of the stage of a band I don't remember. It had rained and rained and there was a large six ft. wide/half ft. deep puddle in front of the stage. Someone pulled me into the mud and I was mad enough to cry over my favorite boots, but then we laughed and laughed and laughed and those boots were paid for in laughter. I ran down to the lake in a parade of mudlings; laughing with my friends until they informed me they were, in fact, not my friends and didn't know me at all. I had been running and chatting with strangers. Looking hard at them I still couldn't distinguish them from my own friends --we were coated from head to toe. I laughed harder.
We jumped into the lake and it was brown, rapidly thickening with mud. I looked and looked over the water but none of my friends were there among the hundreds of other kids trying keep the mud from drying and caking. I scrubbed my clothes and willed the mud out of the boots I was still wearing. All day I stayed damp in my stained cargo pants and muddy hair, sitting by our camp site, rinsing my boots in the kiddie pool my brother's friend had bought, keeping an eye on the lines for the showers to go down.
I didn't even think I wanted to go the night P.O.D. played. Was it on the same day as the mud? I was tired, I had finally gotten a shower, my ears ached and my heart was confused from the chaos. My big sister and I had slept in the back of our "Woody Wagon" to the sound of late night billings night after night. Cornerstone was exhausting, and fun, and expensive. I went to see P.O.D. anyway, it was to be an unimportant yet unforgettable night. Sonny (lead singer for P.O.D.) gave this speech:
I wondered how he could speak in front of a crowd and remember himself; even more, how he could remember Christ in light of the crowds and yelling. Shortly after starting up the song after Sonny's speech someone in the mosh pit was badly hurt and Sonny stopped the music to call an ambulance and call for prayer. The nearly wild crowd fell silent. We were all damp with sweat and water (from being sprayed with a fire hose) the night was warm. We all stood still, in bundles of prayer and nerves.
After prayer, Sonny called for worship "Can anyone sing?" he called out. I felt lost, couldn't Sonny sing? Had something happened to him, too? I'd never realized: Sonny doesn't sing.
Then, I heard my name yelled loudly, "ROLLI GROVE CAN" (Rolli Grove=Pseudonym) my dearest friend, then several other friends, scattered in front of the stage, were yelling "Rolli Grove can sing!" their voices sounding warm and excited.
I wanted to gag and ducked slightly, surely he couldn't have heard something so clearly as name. Then Sonny yelled into his mic "ROLLI GROVE? Where is she?"
"Right here" yelled my friend excitedly from behind me, his voice was sudden and loud and brilliantly clear as a bell. I couldn't understand why he could speak that way so clearly when I could barely stand with the sudden onslaught of stage fright. I forgot to breathe, my eyes felt crossed, I was amazed my shaking legs could even stand and I wasn't even anywhere near the stage. I felt suddenly like I could lay down on the grass and wake in an empty field in the sunshine; pass right through that moment and keep it from happening.
The crowd ahead of me looked back and stared. They parted to create a path, like atoms cooling and condensing suddenly, making room where there had been seemingly none. Weak-kneed, trembling, I went down the aisle of humanity, strengthened by warm hands roughly patting me on the back, assisting me the 15 feet to the stage. Strangers linked hands and I stepped (ok, I shook and was pretty much lifted) up to the stage on a stair of enlaced hands and arms. The stage was so so high (ok it was just five feet off the ground at the most), I thought I would fall off, it felt so narrow (It was QUITE wide, actually), I sat down (ok, leaned the ground and gently crumpled) cross-legged on the stage floor immediately next to two boys, relieved that they shared the only handheld mic. We sang two or three songs. Someone gave me a mic. It was the first time I felt worship leave me, the first time I had to say, "My heart does not feel like a fount overflowing, I feel dry and empty and afraid, God. Please let this be an offering to you, as weak as it is." I kept praying to be an offering because I could not feel His presence in my voice, I couldn't stop worrying whether or not my voice would crack or sound weak. I kept wondering how any musician could ever stand before such a crowd and remain themselves, or really, forget themselves and pour out praise. I was shaken and I wanted to cry. "You looked like you were going to cry up there" a friend said later. He was right.
The next day I learned there were over 27,000 attending Cornerstone that night (as for the P.O.D. concert specifically, I don't know how many, more than half that, I'm sure). But the numbers didn't overwhelm my heart with joy. Wouldn't a normal person be elated? Strangers all that day approached me and said "You were amazing! You can really sing in front of a crowd!" and "I love your voice!" And I was grateful, but felt no relief from the distress in my heart. The reality is: Anyone can sing in front of a crowd, truly. Whether badly or well, it is actually an easy thing to do: Stand and make noise. However, not everyone is equipped to offer praise and utterly forget themselves in front of such a large crowd. I'll admit I was crushed for a bit to feel I was not among those built to praise openly; that maybe I will never earn a living doing what I felt made for: Worship in Song. I learned the vast difference between performing a song and worshipping in song and felt I could do neither.
John 4:21-24 21 “Woman,” Jesus replied, “believe me, a time is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem.22 You Samaritans worship what you do not know; we worship what we do know, for salvation is from the Jews.23 Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in the Spirit and in truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks.24 God is spirit, and his worshipers must worship in the Spirit and in truth.”
Worship is unearthly. Worship is beyond what my eyes see and ears can hear. Whether in hardship or wealth, beyond illness and health, alone or before a crowd, worship focuses not on us, but on the God who is infinitely greater than us and deserves adoration. It focuses on unwavering Truth, it requires the essence of our being, our soul, beyond our human distractions. Through forgetting ourselves we move on to remember Truth, ground that is so solid that our worries and distractions are blown away as loose, fine sand. It frees us to make ourselves fools in the eyes of men 1 Corinthians 1:18: "For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God." because worship is an act (in any gift be it music, art, craft, or labor of heart, mind and hands) that holds meaning well beyond our own small lives. None of this comes without the hand of God on our minds and hearts.
Still, no man is an island. We are a body of Christ; I can't help but remember the young crowd with such a warm feeling. For a long time that mud and that crowd was all I could remember. Teenagers are always on the receiving end of harsh judgements, but the truth is there was worship, and kindness (unarguably true kindness), even should it be muddy and young and obnoxious by most social standards at times. I left Illinois smiling and dreaming of the people and the mud and the lake and the sudden, unexpected kindness and warmth more than I remember the "awesome on stage experience" I had. I am grateful that sometimes people are just lovely even in a mob, I'm sure the love of Christ helps.
Instinctively, I tried to forget that moment of fear and expand the memories of the mud and the kind crowd. Willfully, I am now hanging on to that moment of weak offering on stage in order to remember that whatever I offer never belonged to me in the first place. It is so much easier to give that way.
Toddler's pants legs
Unbearable
