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

For the Tired and Weary

After I lay my Little Love down, I find my way to the love seat where my Bible and journal sit tucked in a bin nearby.  I pull them out and set them beside me while I pile on the blankets.  I grab my Bible and pause, holding it in my left hand.  I could open to my bookmark in John and read, my heart, my body weary.  Instead, I pause to breathe deeply and to talk to God: 

God, I have come.  I have come after a challenging day yesterday.   I had hoped for a fresh start in the morning.  I had hoped to leave the tantrums of yesterday behind with sleep, but that didn’t happen.  I realize that my girl is tired.  I noticed that she has a gum bulging with a new tooth waiting to come through.  It must hurt.  I know there is an explanation for much of her behavior, though I don’t understand it all.  I am having a really hard time being all here and all in control.  I don’t want to be the problem in my day.  That was me yesterday.  I don’t want that to be me today.  I don’t want to raise my voice.  I don’t want to speak in clipped, sharp tones.  I want to see her cues and respond like You would, Jesus. 

As I talk of this, I think to myself how much I am like my child before God.  I hurt, I grow cranky and tired.  I am uncooperative and I lash out, most often with my tongue.  I am disobedient.  Since I am tired and weary when my Little Love behaves this way, I imagine that when I am like my girl God must feel like me—tired and weary. 

At this thought, your answer comes swiftly. 

No! No! No!  

You speak ever so gently. 

You may be like her.  But I do not feel like you.  Don’t you remember?   I do not grow tired or weary.

The words of a song I learned at camp, one Jr. High summer long ago, come to mind. 

“Do you not know?  Have you not heard?  The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.  He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom.  He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.” - Isaiah 40:28-29 

Oh, how you comfort me with your words.  You meet me where I am—tired and weary.  You promise to give me strength and to increase my power.  My circumstances may not change, but You change me in them. 

I often forget it, but you God, you are holy.  You are set apart.  You are so very different than me.  I am broken.  You are whole.  You are gentle.  You love me perfectly in my brokenness and lead me towards wholeness.  You are able to do so much more than I can imagine. 

I open the Bible in my hand and begin searching to find these words in Isaiah 40. 

The words of promise continue. 

“Even youths grow tired and weary; and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.  They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”  -Isaiah 40:30-31 

I grab hold of your promises.  I take that which you have promised and claim it for myself today circling all the behaviors and tantrums and exhaustion and pain and whatever may arise in prayer.  I am placing my hope in the Lord.  I know that whatever comes, you will give me the strength to bear it with your heart for my sweet girl.  Knowing this, I find that inwardly I am soaring. 

*** 

Grace and peace be ours in abundance as we trust in the promises of God and claim them for ourselves today.   May He bear us up and lead us to live abundantly in all things. 

Jessica :)

Promised Land

“When the Lord will have compassion on Jacob and again choose Israel, and settle them in their own land, then strangers will join them and attach themselves to the house of Jacob.  The peoples will take them along and bring them to their place, and the house of Israel will possess them as an inheritance in the land of the Lord as male and female servants; and they will take their captors captive and will rule over their oppressors.”  

 -Isaiah 14:1-2

I have been reading Isaiah lately.  In the midst of prophesied trouble I have been gripped by the promises of the Lord and His heart for all people. As I was reading the passage above, this poem was the song God wrote on my heart.

Let us laugh with gaiety in the Promised Land.

Let us sing praise with our lives.

Let us work with purpose.

Let us open our arms wide

    To all who want to join

    As we enjoy our inheritance.

We the chosen ones

   Who move with compassion

    Toward the poor and captive and blind and oppressed

    Bringing favor and freedom

    Sealed with the kiss of mercy and a humble Love.

Let it be.

Let it be.

Grace and peace be ours in abundance as we dance to the movements of the Holy Spirit who leads us in ways of compassion and love towards all he puts in our path.  May we be the hands and feet of Jesus bringing favor and freedom to each one.

Jessica :)

For Always

Inspiration came as I was doing the dishes while listening to Matt Maher’s Alive Again album a couple of weeks ago.  I sat down during ‘Garden’ and began writing this.  I love it.  I can just imagine Jesus’ words to me in the midst of this season of resurrection.  I think of the story from fall to eternity and I am amazed at the love of God for man, for me.  Enjoy!

Redemption, Love.

Restoration, Love.

That is where we’re headed, Love.

We've traveled a painful road, Love.

But there’s beauty ahead, Love.

We’ll replace the ashes with fruit from the trees

And be full, Love.

Ever what I’ve wanted;

It’s what you’ve been made for all along.

Together, Love.

For always

  

***

Grace and peace be ours in abundance as we receive the gift of love we have been offered in Christ and respond to it.  May we find that we live abundantly a quality of LIFE we’ve been made for all along as we trust God in the midst of all things.

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 :)

Longing for Someday

I lost two friends this past week.

Rooster and Midnight.

It is odd to call cats friends; but they were.

Rooster lived his nine lives to the full—outlasting collisions with cars, attacks by dogs, wandering the elements and surgeries.  He survived so much in his 20+ years that my siblings affectionately called him “the godfather.”  Rooster was the cat my siblings and I were willing to give up vacation for, if it would save his life.  He was the cat that would go off for weeks or months or years, so that we began to wonder if he was still alive.  Then, he would turn up meowing hello, to our wonder.  He was the cat that would follow my dad around the yard as he would mow the lawn and take care of yard debris.  In his later years, he would follow my sister around the house as she went to and fro getting ready for work or snuggle up close to her in bed.  He was her “baby.”  Rooster had his own way of relating to each family member that each of us will treasure, for always. 

Midnight was the sweet cat from down the street.  She followed my (now) sister-in-law and I as we walked through the woods, never falling behind, though we walked several miles.  She always welcomed me to the Holmes home with her friendly meow.  She curled up nearby a few years ago as I sat in the yard swing praying though big decisions, sitting content as my hand methodically stroked her black fur.

It is bizarre that these friends won’t be found coming around the corner of a couch or tripping out of the garage to greet me with their pleasing meows. 

I wonder at this.

It feels so unnatural.

It is always this way with death, though.

It doesn’t feel right.  It just feels all wrong.

And it is all wrong.

It reminds me that this is not the way things were meant to be.

It leaves me longing for home.

For the garden.

For the time before death entered into the world.

It is hard to believe that a lack of trust, a choice to be disobedient, a failure to respond to love began all this world’s pain.  But, I do believe it.  This world must be broken.  This pang I feel, this longing to see life course through the lifeless, it reminds me of it—the brokenness of this world. 

It is also hard to believe that someday all will be made right because of Christ.  But the pang deep inside leaves me clinging to this hope.  Death does not have the last word.

Death does not have the last word, because Jesus did.  He does.  He will.

He made sure of this in his resurrection.

“On the first day of the week, very early in the morning, the women took the spices they had prepared and went to the tomb.  They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus.  While they were wondering about this, suddenly two men in clothes that gleamed like lightning stood beside them.  In their fright the women bowed down with their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead?  He is not here; he has risen!”  Luke 24:1-6 TNIV

Jesus’ resurrection is my hope.  It means he is who he says he is.  He is God.

When I trust this, I live in the kingdom that Christ inaugurated, the one of the now and the not yet.  In this kingdom, the sting of death is still present now.  But in the not yet I will praise God for His victory over death.

In this, there is hope.

"But Christ has indeed been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep.  For since death came through a man, the resurrection of the dead comes also through a man.  For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive.  But each in turn:  Christ, the firstfruits; then, when he comes, those who belong to him.  Then the end will come, when he hands over the kingdom to God the Father after he has destroyed all dominion, authority and power.  For he must reign until he has put all enemies under his feet.  The last enemy to be destroyed is death."  1 Corinthians 15:20-26 NIV

There is hope that death is not the end. 

I think of His words to Martha after she has just lost her brother.

Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life.  The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die.  Do you believe this?" John 11:25-26 NIV

These are His same words to me.

I am the resurrection and the life.  Jessica, do you believe this?

I do.  I cling to it.  I trust Him.  Because in the midst of the pain of death what can console?

Nothing else.  Only Him. 

He is the only hope.

Someday, Christ will do away with death once and for all.

I long for the someday.

***

Grace and peace be ours in abundance as we trust that Jesus is who He says He is, as we trust that He lives, as we trust that he has defeated death and that one day death will have no sting.  May we find He is the hope that gets us through all things.

Jessica :)

P.S.  The photos of Rooster and Midnight were used by permission of my sister and my brother-in-law respectively.

Promises That Never Fail

 “So the Lord gave Israel all the land he had sworn to give their ancestors, and they took possession of it and settled there. The Lord gave them rest on every side, just as he had sworn to their ancestors. Not one of their enemies withstood them; the Lord gave all their enemies into their hands. Not one of all the Lord’s good promises to Israel failed; every one was fulfilled.”  Joshua 21:43-45 (NIV)

The Promised Land.  This is the land that Abraham looked over in Genesis 13.  This is the land Moses looked over from Mount Nebo in Deuteronomy 32.  This is the land that God has promised to give Israel for hundreds of years.  Here the Land has just been conquered and divided.  The Lord keeps his promises. 

I like the way the CEV says it.  “The Lord promised to do many good things for Israel, and he kept his promise every time.”

Let that truth sink deep. 

Let it encourage.

Let’s receive it.

Let’s walk trusting that this is true.

He keeps his promises.  Every time.

Grace and peace be ours in abundance as the truth that He keeps His promises sink deep.  May it lead us to exploring the promises He shares with us in the Bible.  May we cling to these sure of what we hope for and certain of what is yet unseen.

Jessica :)

P.S.  My husband took the above photo (not me) when we were in Dinosaur National Monument in Colorado.