Where Are You?

She slips from my lap and picks up her Jesus Storybook Bible.*  She hands it to me, saying, “Carry please, Mama.”

I say, “Sure!” as we head out the gate and toward the bathroom.

She settles in on the floor as I pull out a floss pick. 

She calls out to me, “Papa?  Where are you?”

Photo by David Barless, used with permission.

I know just what she is referring to.  They are words from the story of the crucifixion.  I turn around and face her on the floor, flipping to the familiar illustration.  (Jesus is on the cross, battered and bruised with a crown of thorns on his head and a tear falling from his eye.  Above him a sign reads “Our King.”)

She turns her head toward mine with a familiar request on her lips. “Read.”

I pull her up on my lap, there on the bathroom floor, and begin halfway through the story.

“They nailed Jesus to the cross.

“Father forgive them,” Jesus gasped.  “They don’t understand what they’re doing.”

“You say you’ve come to rescue us!” people shouted.  “But you can’t even rescue yourself!”

But they were wrong.  Jesus could have rescued himself.  A legion of angels would have flown to his side—if he’d called.

“If you were really the Son of God, you could just climb down off that cross!”  they said.

And of course they were right.  Jesus could have just climbed down.  Actually, he could have just said a word and made it all stop.  Like when he healed that little girl.”    - The Jesus Storybook Bible, p. 304

Here we pause.  

We revisit the story that we read the night before in the front room.  Jairus, the little girl’s daddy had come to Jesus.  I ask if she remembers how Jesus went to the little girl and called her from death to life saying, “Honey, it’s time to get up.”  She nods and says, “Breakfast.”  "Yes,"  I affirm.  “He asks her if she would like some breakfast.  How about you?  Are you hungry for breakfast?” I ask her with a little smile and a friendly poke.

She says again, “Read.”  And so I do. 

“He could have just said a word and made it all stop.  Like when he healed that little girl.  And stilled the storm.  And fed 5,000 people. 
But Jesus stayed.

You see, they didn’t understand.  It wasn’t the nails that kept Jesus there.  It was love.”  - The Jesus Storybook Bible, p. 304

It was love.  I pause here.  I soak it in. 

The nails in his hands.  The nails in his feet.  The thorns.  The shame.  They speak of his love. 

He could have made it stop.  But he didn’t. 

The people didn’t understand, then. 

Do I understand, now? 

I don’t know.

I keep reading.

“Papa?” Jesus cried, frantically searching the sky.

“Papa?  Where are you?  Don’t leave me!”

And for the first time—and the last—when he spoke, nothing happened.  Just a horrible endless silence.  God didn’t answer.  He turned away from his Boy.  – The Jesus Storybook Bible, p. 304

Oh, this moment. 

I think of my Little Love and the way she often calls out playfully from her room these days, “Daddy, where are you?” 

She knows her daddy will come looking for her.  She expects it.  She looks forward to it.  It brings her comfort, peace and such joy to know her daddy will respond. 

Here, Jesus’ daddy doesn't respond.  The Father turns his face away.  He turns away from the Son He loves.  With the picture of my girl in my mind, I find my heart breaking.  Oh, this moment.

“Tears rolled down Jesus’ face.  The face of the One who would wipe away every tear from every eye.” – The Jesus Storybook Bible, p. 304

My Little Love, she looks at with me with concern written all over her face and says, “Cryin'.”  Yes, dear.  Crying.

I can’t imagine she grasps the fullness of this, yet.  How could she?  I am still not sure I do.  But it is amazing to me that she does get that this is a moment to pause.  She tenderly wants to reach out in comfort as she sees Jesus’ hurting face and hears of His tears.

We turn the page.

“Even though it was midday, a dreadful darkness covered the face of the world.  The sun could not shine.  The earth trembled and quaked.  The great mountains shook.  Rocks split in two.  Until it seemed that the whole world would break.  That creation itself would tear apart.

The full force of the storm of God’s fierce anger at sin was coming down.  On his own Son.  Instead of his people.  It was the only way God could destroy sin, and not destroy his children whose hearts were filled with sin.”  -The Jesus Storybook Bible, p.306 

As I read of this storm raging, I feel it.  I feel so very aware of the many ways I have messed up and do mess up—so very aware of the sinful heart that God was seeking to save.  I think of the words of Paul: “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.”  -2 Corinthians 5:21, ESV  

God loved his creation—the people made in his image—so much that he was willing to give his Son to destroy sin and not his children whose hearts were filled with it.  How deep the Father’s love for us. 

How deep the Father’s love for me.  The thought makes me tremble inside.

Then Jesus shouted in a loud voice, “It is finished!”

And it was.  He had done it.  Jesus had rescued the whole world.

“Father!” Jesus cried.  “I give you my life.”

Strange clouds and shadows filled the sky.  Purple, orange, black.  Like a bruise.

Jesus friends gently carried Jesus.  They laid Jesus in a new tomb carved out of rock.

How could Jesus die?  What had gone wrong?  What did it mean?  They didn’t know anything anymore.  Except they did know their hearts were breaking.” –The Jesus Storybook Bible, p. 306

Jesus speaks words of power. And then he dies? This doesn’t really seem like a rescue. 

The storm that has been raging suddenly seems to calm—like when Jesus stilled the storm.  Yet this calm seems awful and ugly.  I feel numb. 

In this moment, I am with the disciples wondering, “How could this happen?  Wasn’t Jesus the Rescuer?  The King God had promised?  It wasn’t supposed to end like this.”*  

Then, I remember.  It doesn’t end like this.
 

Jesus is not dead.  He is alive!

I look at my Little Love and tell her, “It doesn’t end here!  Jesus rises.  He is alive!”  She giggles.

It was for the joy that was set before him that Jesus endured the cross—the joy of relationship with us, the joy of relationship with me. 

I think of the lyrics from Matt Maher’s song 'Christ is Risen': “Oh death!   Where is your sting?  Oh hell!  Where is your victory?  Oh church!  Come stand in the light!  Our God is not dead.  He’s alive!  He’s alive!”

I smile and pull her close saying, “This is good news!”

She wiggles out of my arms.  I let go of her and stand up, turning towards the sink to grab my tooth brush. 

I notice the morning sun shining.  Its bright light is pouring in right where I am standing; and I can't help but continue to hum to myself, "He's alive!  He's alive!"

***

“Now unto him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy, To the only wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and ever. Amen.” –Jude 1:24-25, KJV

***

Grace and peace be ours in abundance this Good Friday as we remember the depth of the Father’s love for us and this Easter as we remember—Jesus is risen, He is risen, indeed!  May we take joy in the hope that we have through His death and resurrection.  When we come to Him, Jesus takes our sinful hearts and presents us faultless before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy.   We are so very loved.

Jessica :)

P.S.  I highly recommend The Jesus Storybook Bible if you do not already own a copy.  It is published by Zondervan. © 2012. The story referenced throughout this post is called 'The sun stops shining,' pages 302-309.  The thoughts I shared along with the disciples are from p. 310.

The photos in this post are from Badlands National Park, South Dakota in July 2010.  We got up to watch the sunrise.  The first two were taken by Jason and the third by me. 

It Is Well

When I think of you, I remember a younger me. 

I remember many times when we sat with Marie and our friends, Bibles open and talking about it.  In the early days, Molly and I perfected the art of avoiding eye contact with Marie so we didn't have to share first.  The awkwardness between new people faded over the years to where it would be hard to believe that we didn't always share secrets and struggles and the things that good friends do. We all enjoyed each other so well.  You always spoke straight from the heart and got straight to the point with your wondering and sharing and confronting.  Wise woman.  I learned about praying out loud, during those years, with you and with our friends. 

I remember squeezing into Marie's Toyota Paseo, so many different times.  Mostly, I remember there was enough room for everyone as we drove home; but occasionally, we packed in like sardines—like the time we kidnapped Molly for her birthday.  I think you were on crutches and got to sit up front because of your injured leg.  We went back to Marie’s place, the one with the breakfast nook, for dinner.  Afterwards, I remember us cheering with Deborah during Return from Snowy River,  "Go Jim go!"  We cheered for the dashing hero on his black stallion.
  
There were other movies too, like The Shawshank Redemption and The Great Escape, during sleepovers.  There were also many musicals and plays at Walnut and Finneytown.  On our way to watch Ellen in Godspell, I remember talking about whether the note I received from Will during study hall meant anything; in it he had drawn my profile and written about "the North girl."
  
What fun times those were!

I went looking for a particular photo of our small group last week.  I never found it.  But Molly did!

I found a photo from Resident Camp, instead.  I remember eating with your campers while I served on Girls Crew.  You were such a wonderful counselor.

I remember having gym class together too.  I was so relieved to know someone else that first day.  I think it must have been with Mr. Christoph, because I remember being on mats tumbling and talking with you, Lindsay, and Tiphanie.  If I am remembering correctly, I think we spent the beginning of the semester lamenting our lack of volleyball skills.  Very few of us did well on the bumping and setting tests. 

You always seemed so comfortable with who you were.  I think that is pretty rare in a middle school or high school student.  You made me feel like I could be me around you, the me that was still trying to figure out who I really was—even if that meant you were witness to ridiculous dance choreography in the bathroom just down the hall from the lunchroom.  We laughed about it, but I never felt foolish for sharing that piece of me with you. (Though, now, I would like to groan that I ever thought that was remotely cool. Oh well!)

That was a precious gift you gave me then.

I did not know I could really live authentically until years later.  But years later, I do know that is the best way to really live, even if it sometimes feels very risky.  If we are never fully known, we can never be fully loved.  You were known and loved, friend.

It seems such a long time since those days. 

Life seldom brought us together since then. (Those few moments when it did were sweet).  From afar, I loved watching your adventures.  You seemed to have such a “seize the day” way of living.  It took you all over the world.  You found so many kindred spirits, touched so many lives.  I know we are all richer for knowing you.  I am.

Now, you are gone. 

(You, who were always so full of life and laughter and making things beautiful—can it really be?)

It reminds me that this world is broken and of my longing for home.  It makes me long for the day when all will be made right.  In that place, in the presence of Jesus, you are whole again.  Sickness does not have the last word, neither does death.  For that, I am so very thankful.

I remember Marie sharing this passage from 1 Peter about character with me. 

“Wives, in the same way submit yourselves to your own husbands so that, if any of them do not believe the word, they may be won over without words by the behavior of their wives, when they see the purity and reverence of your lives. Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight. For this is the way the holy women of the past who put their hope in God used to adorn themselves. They submitted themselves to their own husbands, like Sarah, who obeyed Abraham and called him her lord. You are her daughters if you do what is right and do not give way to fear.”   – 1 Peter 3:3-6 

I think it is especially the last line that makes me think of it now. 

“You are her daughters if you do what is right and do not give way to fear.” 

What a courageous woman you were, my friend.  You faced months of treatment, friends and family beside you, near and far, praying.  You did not give way to fear. 

I want to live like that too! 

These were God’s words to Joshua and the people of Israel as they entered the Promised Land: 

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” – Joshua 1:9

The road ahead of Israel was full of promise in the midst of difficulty.  In the midst of all of this, God told them not to fear, he would be right there.  He would not leave of forsake them.  What words of hope!  What words of comfort!  

God goes with us wherever we go. 

You must have taken hold of God’s promises in the midst of such difficulty. 

His promises are the springs of life that keep us going.

I believe that our names tell us something about who we are. 

Your namesake was loyal, determined, strong and brave—like you.  She, too, was no stranger to difficulty. 

You know what?  Her story doesn’t end in death, it ends in life.  It ends with a redeemer. 

So does your story, Ruth.  Because Jesus lives, so will you. 

Because of all this, it is well. 

***

Grace and peace be ours in abundance as we trust in the promises of God.  May we cling to Jesus as our sure hope in the face of sin and guilt and death.  May we trust that His resurrection life will right all the wrongs and make all things new.  Because of this we can say it is well.

Jessica

Scripture Reads

It is an activity I have often led in leadership trainings and participated in while on retreats. 

Often it is called lectio divina. Yet, tonight as I sit at Last Wednesday, Chuck and Andrea don’t call it that.  Instead, they strip the practice down to its core and call it what it is—listening to God through His Word.

They teach.

He is always speaking through His Word. 

“For the word of God is alive and active.  Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.”  Hebrews 4:12

As we read Scripture, Scripture is reading us, they say.

They challenge.

Do we take time to stop and listen to God in His Word?

They lead.

As an auditorium of many, we stop to practice. 

We read and listen for God to speak.

“Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess for he who promised is faithful.  And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.” Hebrews 10:23-25

As I read, it stands out to me like words bolded on the page, calling out to my heart: 

“Hold unswervingly to the hope” and “he who promised is faithful.”

In the minutes that follow I am invited to consider what God might be trying to say to me.  I read the passage again and the context provides the key to what I think God is trying to tell me.

I don’t really like it.  This is about my attitude, my bad attitude.  I can hold to it or I can hold unswervingly to my hope trusting that he who promises is faithful.

I sit in the midst of an unwelcome confrontation.  Will I receive what I think God is speaking to me?

At the moment, I think I am very happy with my bad attitude.  Will I let it go?

Chuck challenges us to “share what you think you heard with someone from your tribe and act on it” before we go to bed tonight.  He has already shared that it is often in sharing what we think we hear that we receive confirmation (“Yes that sounds like God based on His Word and character"), correction (“No that’s not God” or further insight), and encouragement.

I am not looking forward to this sharing, but I am determined to do it. 

On my way home, I try to brainstorm ways of avoiding this assignment altogether.  However, in the end, I realize I will either do it or not, with this task there is no half-way.

When Jason asks about Last Wednesday I dodge, preferring to listen to him share why he wasn’t able to come late like he hoped.

We carry on with what is left of our evening—comparing baby items online—until I finally work up the courage to share what I think I heard God say to me.

In this, I pour out what I’m ashamed to admit to him—my bad attitude spilling out real and ugly.  Somehow it seems even uglier when it is out in the open.  I think I’m beginning to recognize this attitude for what it really is—toxic.  When I think of this, I’m not quite so happy with it anymore.  

Still, I hold to it defiantly—waiting. 

I am waiting for the words of correction to painfully whip across my heart. 

Instead, my husband gracefully draws me close and speaks.  Far from stinging censure, his words are gentle, but pointed.  His words bring the perspective I need.  They help me see what I could not see before.  What he says changes everything.  

All at once, I am broken for the way I have been rigid, inflexible and critical.  I have been trying to control this situation and in doing so I have been everything but loving. 

After I take it all in, I turn toward Jason and apologize for how I have made things difficult for him.  The tears trickle as I tell him I want to be a helpful partner in the midst of this situation.  I tell him I want to respond compassionately and live trusting the Faithful One to work out all I hope for in the midst of something I am unable to control.

In the midst of this, he affirms me and gives me encouragement.

I look into his kind eyes and realize that my dread is gone.  The toxins have been drawn out.  I feel free somehow.  I find I am softened at heart and ready to respond to all that God has spoken to me.

I wonder at it all.

I walk upstairs to get ready for bed thankful and lifting up praise for the beginning of His transformation in me.

***

Grace and peace be ours in abundance as we listen to God—in His Word—seek counsel from our tribe, and follow where He leads.  May we find that He is good and works for ours.

Jessica :)

Love Always Trusts

(A Wrestling Story, Part 2)                                                                               

He looks over at me for a moment as we are driving to his pottery class and asks me a question. 

“Do you know that I love you?”

I was still raw from the digging I’d been doing the night before.  I was trying to receive God’s love, but what was love really anyway?  And how does one receive it?  I know the passage about love in 1 Corinthians.  And I know the passage in 1 John too.  God is love.  He is these things.  So how does a person know them?  And if I’m having a hard time knowing and receiving God’s love how on earth can I know and receive my husband’s love? 

These things flash across my mind.

I shrug saying, “I think so.”

Jason’s unexpected response captures my attention.  “Well.  That’s good.  Because I think that means you’re living in trust.”

We pull into the parking lot of the studio.  We say good-bye with a kiss and I begin driving toward the coffee shop, not too far away.  All the time, his words echo…you’re living in trust.

What does it mean to live in trust?  I wonder. 

I suppose trust is what it is to live in relationship, a healthy one anyway. 

It is daily living in expectant hope of being present to one another.  It is living as though I believe that Jason will be here tomorrow and the next day and all the days after that, until one of us dies.  It is living and knowing that no matter how ugly my behavior is—how I snap or how I bare my teeth—he will be here.  It is living and knowing my doing the dishes or neglecting them—to go for a walk or to make a crafty mess that is not soon cleaned up—will not keep him from being here.  It is believing that he desires and works for my good. 

This is trust.  And in it I think I catch a glimmer of love that is not based on the way I feel. 

So, as I wonder about love, I am able to say with certainty, I do trust him.   I trust that he will walk beside me in all things.  Somehow, I realize that as I trust, I know I am loved— a love that is beyond feelings.  And this love is what my hope is in.  Not only that, but I find that I receive this love and it wells up with a response of its own.  I return his love—in words and action too.

I think of  Corinthians 13:7:  “Love always trusts.”

What surprising joy in discovering this.  For in it, I realize I know God’s love for me too. 

God’s love is so much clearer and longer lasting than a feeling.  I trust that in the ugliest moments of my life God loves me.  He couldn’t love me more, though he may indeed invite me toward a different way of being than I’m living at the moment.  He sent His Son, Jesus, to walk with me.  He has walked with me through all things.  I live expecting daily to meet Him through His Word.  I know His presence in the kind word of encouragement and the big engulfing arms of a friend’s hug.  I know it through the unexpected soft whisper of the Holy Spirit and in the gift of His creation when I catch a whiff of fresh cut roses smelling sweet.  I live trusting Him.

As I live walking in trust, I put my hope in Him.  In doing this, I receive His love.  

The cloud of the last day lifts.  I feel joy as I realize I am loved. 

And I want to live loving back.

"Let us not love with with words or speech but with actions and truth." 1 John 3:18 (NIV)

Grace and peace be ours in abundance as we live trusting God.  For when we place our hope in Him we receive his love and it wells up into a response of living love for Him in action.

Jessica :)

...reposted from the archives

Offer Community

I’m looking forward to a visit with my dad today.

He is so changed from who he once was that I marvel at the transformation that God can do in a life.

Sure.  I catch glimpses in my own life.  Of the way He has brought freedom.  Joy.  Friendship.

But in my dad, I see the prodigal come home.

And it is so good.

I’m looking forward to talking about his last letter. 

Of speaking the truth.  Of responding in love.

I’m looking forward to watching the weight fall from his shoulders.

As he receives grace. 

He’s not known much of that in his life. 

And it has been hard for him to trust.

But he’s learning.

I’m rejoicing, because I get the chance to offer community.  If only for a few hours.

And I’m thankful for those who have taught me what that means.

Grace.  Truth.  Love.

Community.

All this, in Christ.

***

Have you experienced these things?  I pray that you have.  I pray that you will.  And I pray that you would have eyes to see the people who are hungry to know what you know... 

It is good to trust.  That love is worth the risk.

When we don't trust, we walk alone.  All the time with this craving deep inside.

Grace.  Truth.  Love.  Friendship. 

God has made us for this.  And we have the perfect example of this in Jesus, God’s Son.

 ^"The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth."  John 1:14 TNIV

Grace and peace be ours in abundance as we gather around the hurting and speak tenderly to them of the goodness of God.  May we offer community full of the grace and truth and love of God.

Jessica :)

Love Always Trusts

(A Wrestling Story, Part 2)

He looks over at me for a moment as we are driving to his pottery class and asks me a question. 

“Do you know that I love you?”

I was still raw from the digging I’d been doing the night before.  I was trying to receive God’s love, but what was love really anyway?  And how does one receive it?  I know the passage about love in 1 Corinthians.  And I know the passage in 1 John too.  God is love.  He is these things.  So how does a person know them?  And if I’m having a hard time knowing and receiving God’s love how on earth can I know and receive my husband’s love? 

These things flash across my mind.

I shrug saying, “I think so.”

Jason’s unexpected response captures my attention.  “Well.  That’s good.  Because I think that means you’re living in trust.”

We pull into the parking lot of the studio.  We say good-bye with a kiss and I begin driving toward the coffee shop, not too far away.  All the time, his words echo…you’re living in trust.

What does it mean to live in trust?  I wonder. 

I suppose trust is what it is to live in relationship, a healthy one anyway. 

It is daily living in expectant hope of being present to one another.  It is living as though I believe that Jason will be here tomorrow and the next day and all the days after that, until one of us dies.  It is living and knowing that no matter how ugly my behavior is—how I snap or how I bare my teeth—he will be here.  It is living and knowing my doing the dishes or neglecting them—to go for a walk or to make a crafty mess that is not soon cleaned up—will not keep him from being here.  It is believing that he desires and works for my good. 

This is trust.  And in it I think I catch a glimmer of love that is not based on the way I feel. 

So, as I wonder about love, I am able to say with certainty, I do trust him.   I trust that he will walk beside me in all things.  Somehow, I realize that as I trust, I know I am loved— a love that is beyond feelings.  And this love is what my hope is in.  Not only that, but I find that I receive this love and it wells up with a response of its own.  I return his love—in words and action too.

I think of  Corinthians 13:7:  “Love always trusts.”

What surprising joy in discovering this.  For in it, I realize I know God’s love for me too. 

God’s love is so much clearer and longer lasting than a feeling.  I trust that in the ugliest moments of my life God loves me.  He couldn’t love me more, though he may indeed invite me toward a different way of being than I’m living at the moment.  He sent His Son, Jesus, to walk with me.  He has walked with me through all things.  I live expecting daily to meet Him through His Word.  I know His presence in the kind word of encouragement and the big engulfing arms of a friend’s hug.  I know it through the unexpected soft whisper of the Holy Spirit and in the gift of His creation when I catch a whiff of fresh cut roses smelling sweet.  I live trusting Him.

As I live walking in trust, I put my hope in Him.  In doing this, I receive His love.  

The cloud of the last day lifts.  I feel joy as I realize I am loved. 

And I want to live loving back.

"Let us not love with with words or speech but with actions and truth." 1 John 3:18 (NIV)

Grace and peace be ours in abundance as we live trusting God.  For when we place our hope in Him we receive his love and it wells up into a response of living love for Him in action.

Jessica :)