Thoughts on the Christian life

I have begun this post five times at least. I write a sentence, erase it, write another, erase it, and the cycle continues. There are thoughts swarming in my head, and in my pride, I find myself wanting to communicate them in the most eloquent, compelling way possible. And my words fall short.

What I want to talk about is the radical nature of the Christian life. It’s a theme God has woven into the tapestry of my life this week -- into conversations I’ve had, books I’ve read, struggles we’ve encountered. I’m captured by the thought of it, convicted by the reality of it: God has not called us to a wimpy faith; he has called us to a radical one.

It’s radical to lie prostrate on the floor before God – but twice this week I’ve encountered passionate believers who challenged me to this practice. One was Beth Moore, via Shirley Wolfe’s Wednesday night Bible study; she challenged the viewers of her latest video series to begin each day in a humble, prostrate position before the Lord. The other was the late theologian A.W. Tozer, whose “regular habit was to sprawl on his study floor, facedown, and worship God.” (Tozer, I read, even read Shakespeare on his knees because he believed all efforts toward knowledge and understanding to be spiritual pursuits.)

It’s radical to fast – but this week I encountered passionate believers who celebrate the practice of fasting. Doctor William McKenzie, my believing doctor, challenged me months ago to fast over an issue in my life. I had no biblical understanding of the practice, so Steven photocopied a chapter of a book he’d been reading and brought it home to me. This week I found the chapter, was reminded of Dr. McKenzie’s exhortation (which was still valid, by the way), and so finally read “The Discipline of Fasting” (by Richard Foster). What I discovered was a moving biblical argument toward the practice of fasting, solid Biblical instruction on the purposes of fasting, and practical information on the physical aspects of fasting. It was startling, yes, but also compelling. “You will be engaging in spiritual warfare that will necessitate using all the weapons of Ephesians 6,” Foster writes. “… But I do not want to leave the impression that all fasting is a heavy spiritual struggle – I have not found it so. It is also ‘righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit’ (Rom. 14:17).”

Tozer, whom I've also been reading this week, fondly referred to radical believers – the ones whose souls follow hard after God -- as the “fellowship of the burning heart.” The analogy is vivid, brilliant, alive: the fellowship – believers – whose one commonality is a flaming passion for Jesus.

I have never lain prostrate before my Lord, and I don’t think I’ve ever fasted. The best I do is to occasionally lift my hands in worship. Sadly, my own life too often is characterized by a lack of radical living. Tozer speaks of this, too: “The stiff and wooden quality about our religious lives is a result of our lack of holy desire.”

Oh, to have holy desire. The kind of desire that allows me to fall prostrate before my father, without feeling self-conscious. The kind of desire that compels me to fast, sacrificing the thing most necessary physically for the gain of a thing most necessary spiritually. The kind of desire (flaming!) that initiates me, even me, into the Fellowship of the Burning Heart. Now that would be RADICAL!

On my chairside table ...

One of these days, I really do intend to post my booklist. Can't do it, though, til I figure out how to deal with such a sizable amount of text -- post all at once, divide into categories, post as a sidebar list, post a book a week, etc. And I'm a slow thinker, remember, so I'm pondering the possibilities.

In honor of those of you who've asked, however, and because I do have a reputation as the book diva, thought I'd let you know what's currently gracing the table beside my favorite chair.

In no certain order:

Lonely Planet Guide to Ireland; Walking Dublin; Eyewitness Dublin; Ireland from $80 a Day -- I'm soaking in these as we prepare for our trip, just over a month away; wanting to be familiar enough with the culture and geography that I won't be such a bumbling foreigner (I know, wishful thinking). We've been encouraged to spend some time walking around Dublin, getting to know the place a bit, so I'm trying to familiarize myself a tad with the layout of the city. The country is rich with history, so of course there are a few sights I'd like to see (St. Patrick's Cathedral, Ha'Penny Bridge, Temple Bar district, and, need I mention, at least a couple o' castles). And the books are chock-ful of useful information (like the fact that all purchases include a 21-PERCENT sales tax -- can you say "ouch"! -- which foreigners can re-coup in the airport as they leave the country). Our trip is not a "sight-seeing vacation," and really I have no desire for it to be (it's an act of grace, surely, that I'm truly most excited about getting to know the teams and the work they do), but I want to know this place to which we're considering moving, and a little study may come in handy for the trip.

Invitation to the Classics: A Guide to the Books You've Always Wanted to Read -- Historical background and commentary on great classic literature (The Iliad, Great Expectations, Utopia, Pride and Prejudice, Heart of Darkness, etc.) as well as selected quotes and passages. Written from a distinctly Christian worldview, this book also includes sections on works by Augustine, John Calvin, Martin Luther, etc.

February issue, Southern Living magazine -- I love magazines, but rarely splurge on them. The exception is my subscription to Southern Living magazine, and after a day of schooling and purging closets/bookshelves (still on my quest to streamline school and life in general), I actually sat down in my comfy green chair with matching ottoman (thanks Boo and Evan) and perused this latest issue. Looking forward to testing recipes for Creole Fried Rice (for my G-love), Pan-Fried Chicken and Spinach Salad (yum, for me) and King Ranch Chicken Casserole (for the fam, and maybe guests).

My bible, and the World Harvest Sonship bible study

DK Great Artists Explained -- an annotated guide to the works of about 100 "great artists". Gives background on the artists, then an image and interesting analysis of one work each.

The Intrepid Art Collector: The Beginner's Guide to Finding, Buying and Appreciating Art on a Budget -- A Christmas gift from my hubby, who knows I long to fill the walls of our home not with "canned" art, but with one-of-a-kind originals. (My children's painted canvasses, the seventies-ish needlepoint purchased at a church rummage sale, and my collection of bird nests and other natural objects all have more appeal to me now than most any framed print I find.) The book provides practical information on buying art (even from little local galleries) and a fascinating look at the competitive world of art collecting.

Prayers from the Heart (by Richard Foster) and The Valley of Vision -- So I don't like canned art, but I do love "canned" prayers. They broaden the way I pray, and help me to express myself when I'm struggling to do so.

A Sense of Wonder: On Reading and Writing Books for Children -- Kept this book out of the library so long, it now belongs to me; they billed me for it. It's a book of essays by Katherine Paterson, two-time winner of the National Book Award and Newberry Medal (Bridge to Terabithia, Jacob Have I Loved, The Great Gilly Hopkins). The first essay is all about words (which, ironically, I've been planning to use as the subject of a mini-scrapbook -- my love of words, that is.) Anyway, Paterson writes, "I know as you do, that words can be used for evil as well as good. But we must take that risk. We must try as best we are able to give our children words that will shape their minds so they can make those miraculous leaps of imagination that no sinless computer will ever be able to rival -- those connections in science, in art, in the living of this life, that will reveal the little truths. For it is these little truths that point to the awesome, unknowable unity, the Truth, which holds us together and makes us members one of another." Now I don't agree with everything Paterson says -- even parts of that last statement are problematic -- but her storytelling is captivating, and she causes me to think, to ponder words and their power, to draw connections between "words" and the "Word." And I'm only one essay into the book.

Religious Education Through Story-telling; Education Through Story-telling -- two ancient volumes (actually, only about 80 years old) on the know-how and advantages of clothing educational instruction in literary language. Complete with suggested fables, myths and various other stories for the beginning story-teller. Great for anyone who speaks/teaches -- parents, teachers, Sunday School teachers, homeschoolers, public speakers, etc.

Mad Math -- a book my kids discarded, which I'm using to sharpen my mathematical and cricical thinking skills.

A Book Lover's Diary -- provides space for recording books I want to read, books I want to own, books I share, and books I borrow. Also sections for remembering my favorite books and writing down my favorite passages.

Altered Board Book (Basics and Beyond); Faith Books and Spiritual Journaling (Expressions of Faith through Art) -- two books about scrapbooking ... books. One focuses on altering little kids' board books into new books, the other focuses on making books and journals about scripture, prayer, faith.

The Child from the Sea, and The Poet and the Pauper -- novels by one of my all-time favorite authors (Elizabeth Goudge, Scent of Water and Pilgrim's Inn), and a newly-discovered favorite (George MacDonald).

Don't Make Me Count to Three! A Mom's Look at Heart-Oriented Discipline -- probably the one I most need to read, but haven't even started yet.

Understanding Your Man in the Mirror -- not because he's tough to understand, but because I I need and want to give him more of myself.

copybook -- Black leather journal embossed with a flower design, where I record scripture, book passages, poetry, song lyrics, quotes -- any words which resonate with me.

The Art of Life (Edith Schaeffer), Ruthless Trust (Brennan Manning) and a host of others (the table's overflowing).

They say you can learn a lot about a person by looking at their bookshelves. I can definitely see the themes of my life running through the pages on my chairside table.

Random thoughts

Random thought number 1
I love my church. Sunday was beautiful. The Spirit's presence was almost palpable. Meryl said the entire service was anointed, and I think she's so right. In everything -- Steven's prayers, Jeff's articulation, Hope's tears, Adria's presence, Jesse's words, Quinn's challenge, Stoke's and Connie's song, Burt's sermon, the communion and weeping and community -- the Gospel reigned. The things of the world -- pride, defensiveness, bitterness, self-righteousness, anger -- were replaced by things of the Spirit -- humility, weakness, forgiveness, grace, restoration, love. Someone asked how we thought visitors responded; personally, I can't imagine how they could have left that service without being more drawn to Christ, because there's nothing more seductive than to see the gospel lived out.

Random thought number 2 (related to random thought number 1)
I love our elders. One of the most powerful things to me about Sunday morning was the gathering of men who left their respective places in the congregation, joined one another on the stage, and stood as a humble, Godly leadership. I'm thankful for these men, so committed to the Gospel and the Church, who ushered in such a poignant time of healing and restoration. I'm thankful to our God who called them and made them his own, and whose work in their lives has been so evident.

Random thought number 3 (related to random thoughts number 1 and 2)
My last thought as I walked out of the sanctuary on Sunday morning:
"I am overwhelmed with joy in the Lord my God." Is. 61:10

Random thought number 4 (unrelated to random thoughts 1-3)
I'm attempting to simplify my life right now. Especially homeschooling. Having difficulty managing four grade-levels -- planning and grading for every subject (almost) for every child at four different grade levels. Crazy. And chaos. Pray for me.

Random thought number 5
Played the game Imaginiff with the Claytons on New Year's Eve. Great fun. You must try it.

Random thought number 6 (may have blogged about this before, but too lazy to read through my posts to find out)
I'm a slow thinker. I've always known this. Friends have ragged me for being slow at things, but truly, I'm slow at DOING because I'm slow at THINKING. This extends into all areas of my life. Need to discipline my child -- "go sit on the sofa until I figure out what to say to you." Need to re-vamp homeschool history strategy -- punt history for two weeks while I think through the possibilities and figure out a new strategy. Want to scrapbook a prayer journal, a birthday mini-album, an altered board book -- creativity comes, but ever so slowly. I can't engage in a debate (that's a nice word for argument), study scripture, read a book, post to my blog, or watch a movie without confronting the fact that my brain processes information far more slowly than I'd prefer. There are advantages, of course: I'm less likely to say something I regret, and there's less opportunity for pride (I'd be even more prideful than I am, if that's possible, if I were as efficient in all these things as I'd like to be). Frankly, though, I really struggle not to compare myself with others in this regard. Like, I think Kim Hill probably has more original thoughts go through her head in a single morning than I do in a month of Sundays. If it matters to me when I get to heaven (which it probably won't, but if it did), I think I'll ask God why he saw fit to give me a brain which operates at dial-up speed. Meanwhile, need to repent.

Random thought number 7
Getting very excited about the site visit to Ireland. When I think about the trip, the only thing that's really making me panic is the airplane ride -- oh, and the fear that we'll leave there with no clue what God wants us to do. Pray for clarity of vision -- and a safe plane trip -- and that I'll trust Him even in the event of an unsafe plane trip.

It's taken me a very slow hour-and-a-half to write this post. I probably should have been thinking about revamping the history curriculum.

Tootles, then, til next time.

Bedtime prayers with Bella

For eons now, I've been working to get Bella to pray out loud. We always pray, mind you, but up until a few months ago it's been me doing all the praying. Bella's prone to admitting that she has "stage nervousness" (where she learned that term I'll never know), so I guess you could say she has "praying-out-loud nervousness" too.

Finally, a few months ago, she began to pray out loud by repeating my prayers. You know what it's like when you make a cell phone call and can hear your own echo in the background? Very distracting. Well, that's what praying with Bella was like for several months as she warmed up to the idea of praying out loud: me praying, Bella echoing.

She is beginning to compose her own prayers, now, and usually she wants to pray for someone who's sick. But she makes a profound mistake every time. "Thank you, God, for Sage to get well." In her five-year-old syntax, she verbalizes her prayer not as a request, but as a thanksgiving.

I wonder, really, whether it's a mistake at all -- or indication of child-like trust.

You know what I think? I've been trying to teach my little girl how to pray; suddenly, she's teaching me.

Talk about a good mail day ...

Woohoo! Passports arrived today, much more quickly than anticipated! (If I had a working digital camera, I'd post a LOVELY photo). The kids and I were really excited. The passports were mailed in separate envelopes, so each of the kids opened their own, which was pretty cool. (Of course, they both griped about how they looked in their pictures; in reality, the pictures were pretty good.) Anyway, we're one more tiny step forward toward a site visit to Ireland.

Another cool thing -- the World Harvest newsletter came in the same batch of mail, and there's an article in it on the Mission Apprenticeship Team (one of the teams we plan to visit). It was neat to read about aspects of the team's ministry and challenges we hadn't yet talked with them about.

Well, I promise to blog on a different topic next time. Some options: what I'm doing when I'm not blogging; "the book list"; sights I've noticed along HWY 411 that have given me cause to wonder; some great bit of poetry. Hmmm -- wonder which one it will be.

'Aha moment' at the Sonship conference

Meredith Elder, a World Harvest staffer with whom Steven and I were priviledged to spend an hour each day during Sonship week, asked me to jot down my thoughts about my "aha moment" that week. This is what I sent to him. Thought I'd share it on the ole blogoroni, as well.

"Remembering Sonship Week"

Following a seven-hour drive from our home state of Alabama to the mountains of North Carolina, I arrived at World Harvest’s Sonship conference feeling very expectant. After a difficult year of life and ministry, I trusted that God would use this experience to provide encouragement and healing for both my husband and myself. What I didn’t expect (but, admittedly, probably should have) was the powerful call to surrender – and the overwhelming grace to comply -- that I experienced the fourth morning of the trip.

The week, up to that point, had been solidly good; it was one of neither emotional highs nor lows – just incredible teaching, sweet (though sometimes intense) interactions, and a solid remembering of the gospel. Oh, and along the way, the whisper in our ears that we should perhaps consider a future in missions. “Missions?” Only weeks prior, the thought would have seemed unfathomable to me. But God was opening doors, and we were curiously and obediently walking through them.

And that’s about the point at which, on Thursday morning, Scotty Smith stood up to speak and, in the course of his teaching, made a statement I’d heard him make multiple times during the week: “We live our lives giving God a bit part in our story, when the reality is, we’re a character in His.” All week long, that statement had captured my attention; finally, it captured my heart.

Now, I’m no expert on the Holy Spirit and how He works in our lives, but I was certain in that moment that God was calling me to surrender my own plans, expectations and fears, to be willing to go anywhere He would call. And I knew, in that moment, that God might really be calling us overseas, and that by His grace He had granted me not only a willingness but a desire to go.

My excitement about the possibilities grows as the weeks wear on and we correspond with World Harvest teams in Europe. At the same time, I hold on to the dream lightly, because God, ultimately, is the only one who knows His plan, and He calls me to surrender to it not just in one miraculous moment, but every moment of every day.

Only Bella (and maybe Gracie Sharp)

My daughter (the five-year-old) is proudly marching around the backyard in a red-and-white-striped Christmas shirt, silky leopard-print pajama shorts, and red "leather" boots that reach about mid-calf. Ya gotta love her sense of style!

A quick moment from the Sonship conference

Well, suddenly I find that I have about five minutes to blog here at the Sonship conference in North Carolina. (WIFI is available only in the main lodge, not in our rooms, where there is no tv, radio or cell phone access. Simple living. Lovely.)
Anyway, since time is short, I'll just write at this juncture about the session this morning that really excited me. It was in this session that a World Harvest staffer, Ruthann Batstone, said some very profound things about forgiveness. She painted a picture of forgiveness that made it more beautiful to me than it ever has been before. "As we forgive, we get to be a character and a carrier of God's story," Ruthann said. "There's a taste of glory that we give when we forgive someone. It's a moment of worship -- a transaction where we do for someone else what God did for us." The reconciliation that comes when we forgive others -- or seek their forgiveness of us -- is an amazing representation of the reconciliation that happens for us with God because of what Christ did for us on the cross. In that way, forgiveness becomes a picture of the gospel to the world. I ignore forgiveness. I don't forgive others well. I don't seek forgiveness well (from God or anyone else). In fact, forgiveness hasn't carried much weight for me, and all too often it's been something I simply just ignore. Now, I find myself wanting to fly to it.

Well, more to come later on Sonship. Not a spiritual high, which I'm glad of. Just a new remembering of the gospel.

Next week, huh?

As you may know, Ron and Gail Clegg (former missionaries to Hungary) ministered at our church this weekend, and we were blessed to have them come to our home for a while on Saturday night. After talking with us about our experience and struggles at and since Church Planting Assessment, they strongly suggested that we attend an upcoming World Harvest Sonship week. The CPC session approved our attendance, so we'll be leaving on Sunday for North Carolina, where we'll be immersed in the gospel. (For those of you who've read my husband's blog, don't be thrown off by the "kick back in the mountains" claim he made to you; he told me to be prepared to be broken down first, then built back up in the gospel. It ain't gonna be no picnic.) Anyway, I'm expecting lovely things to happen (assuming I can accomplish everything I suddenly now have to accomplish by Saturday, and we can keep the kids and ourselves free of all the sickness going around). But I just had to share something that occurred to me yesterday:

Dates we attended church planting assessment in 2006
Oct. 22-Oct. 26

Dates we'll attend World Harvest Sonship week in 2007
Oct. 21-Oct. 26

hmmmm ... seems kind of mysterious to me (or at the least, very ironic).

Beautiful Baby Brianna

I've been meaning to learn how to post a photo of my newest little niece (now six months old, ahem). Finally, when I updated to the new blogger, I realized how easy it is. So here she is. Her name is Brianna (pronounced Bre-ah-na), her parents are my brother Billy and sister-in-law Bianca, and she lives in Texas. I never see any of them, and that makes me very sad.

Things I want you to know about my mother

Today is Oct. 2. If my mom were still living, it would be her birthday. She would be 62.

My mom has been gone for more than 10 years, now, though. And as I was thinking about her tonight, it occurred to me -- most of the friends who read my blog never got to meet her. There are things I want you to know about her. So in a twist on the classic "things you don't know about me" blog-list, here's "things I want you to know that you probably don't know about my mother."

1. She had an amazing sense of humor. Very ready, and very dry.

2. She was patient and gentle. Really, I don't think I can ever remember her raising her voice. (Of course, she wasn't raising us kids, either. I never lived with her once I was past the age of 4, or maybe 5, so it wasn't a typical mother/child, 24-hour-a-day relationship. But still, even when I was an adult, I never knew her to lose her temper about anything. I think that's remarkable.)

3. She had a seductive voice.

4. She was a talented writer and artist, though she was never formally trained as either. Regarding writing: She could write circles around me (science fiction and mystery short stories were her favorite genres to write, I seem to remember). Regarding art: Pen and ink was her favorite medium. She would create incredibly detailed drawings (again, science-fictionish), but I also vividly remember her coloring geometric designs with markers and also making home-made paper dolls for me.

5. She was a bookworm. Loved to read.

6. Though she had only a 9th-grade education, she was a scholar. Very intelligent.

7. You would have enjoyed conversations with her. She was interested in and knowledgable about so many things. That, coupled with her sense of humor (see #1), made her a great conversationalist.

8. My children called her Gran-Gran. She only met Emma and Eli, but of all my children, Aden is probably most like her.

9. Twenty years after they divorced, she still loved my dad.

10. She noticed Steven's beautiful green eyes even before I did. She thought they were the most beautiful shade of green she'd ever seen.

11. Her favorite "gospel" song was "Mansion Over the Hilltop" -- to which I know all the words.

12. She was opinionated, but open-minded.

13. She valued friendship highly, but solitude re-energized her.

14. She was incredibly brave. At last count, she had 14 debilitating heart and lung illnesses.

15. She was all about showing some grace to people. Very non-judgmental.

16. She called me Sister.

17. The last time I ever hugged her, she smelled like baby powder.

Momma wasn't perfect: don't misunderstand. But my memories of her are sweet, and these are the things I celebrate about her.

Looking back, and looking forward

On Thursday night, I cried.

You may not think that's anything odd (though, actually, I don't cry that often). But these tears were for something that happened almost a year go.

They weren't violent tears. Just real ones.

Real tears, for real pain. Real hurt. Real scars.

Church planting assessment has haunted me. Not just the outcome. The very process itself.

Often, I've felt quite hopeless.

But God is faithful, and on Friday he encouraged me through the following scripture, sent by a friend to Steven and me:

"For consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God. And because of him you are in Christ Jesus, who became to us wisdom from God, righteousness and sanctification and redemption, so that, as it is written, Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord. I Cor. 1:26-31

I'm afraid, in my hurt, I've been denying the power of God. We are indeed foolish, but he is wise. We are indeed weak, but he is powerful. We are indeed lowly, but he reigns. And Life is filled with hope.

My seven

Well, friends, I'm sure that my failure to be "tagged" for one of the many various lists in blogworld is due only to my prolonged absence from the blogging scene; therefore, I've decided to shock you all, tag myself and blog my "seven." So here they are ... the seven things you don't know about me.

1.I love the taste of the chocolate pudding in Kid's Cuisine microwavable dinners, and on the rare occasions where I actually purchase these, I secretly eat a spoonful of the pudding before serving the dinners to my kids.

2. I absolutely cannot look at the photos in decorating catalogs/magazines without reading the titles of the books pictured on the shelves and coffee tables. (I've even been known to use a magnifying glass.)

3. I once had a short-lived romance with a Guatamalan named Juan. He was 15, I was 14, and we were both staying the night at the home of my schoolmate, Cindy. Juan was a swimmer with a Guatamalan swim team, here in the states for an international competition of sorts; Cindy's dad was the swim coach at Jeff State Community College, and Juan was staying with Cindy's family during his time in the states. It happened to be during this time that Cindy celebrated her birthday with a spend-the-night party, to which I and several other friends were invited. First stop for the party was the local ice rink for ice-skating; I spent most of the evening being chased by Juan. Other than that, we kissed once (my 14-year-old daughter DID NOT READ THAT), and he gave me a stuffed raccoon to remember him by. Several weeks later, he called me from Guatamala, but I was home alone, wasn't sure how long-distance fees were handled, and wouldn't talk to him. A month or so after that, I got a Christmas card from him written all over with about a hundred "I Love Yous." That was the end of it ... well, almost. Juan called our house one more time and asked to speak with me, but I wasn't there. You see, seven years had gone by, I was 21, and Steven and I had just gotten married.

4. I didn't say a single curse word til I was about 30. I've more than made up for it.

5. I can identify even lesser-known paintings of Piet Mondrian, Claude Monet, Mary Cassatt, Joan Miro, Paul Klee, Vincent Van Gogh, Paul Cezanne, Ferdinand Leger, Jacob Lawrence, Jackson Pollack, Marc Chagall, Jan Vermeer, Edgar Degas, Pablo Picasso, Henri Matisse, Romare Bearden, Winslow Homer, Grant Wood, Edward Hopper, Salvador Dali, Pieter Brueghel, Wassily Kandinsky, Auguste Macke, Roy Lichtenstein, Andy Warhol, Rene Magritte, Edouard Vuillard, Jasper Johns, Paul Gauguin, Albrecht Durer, Thomas Cole, and more artists simply by looking at the style of the work, but I can count on one hand the number of songs from the 70s, 80s and 90s whose lyrics I know by memory.

6. I like to wear only solid-color shirts when I hang out around the house.

7. I remember having only one birthday party when I was a kid. (If you remember my favorite memories post, you'll know it was the year I turned 12 and we played Pin the Moustache on Shaun Cassidy. Dah-Do-Run-Run-Run, Dah-Do-Run-Run.)

And here's a bonus one -- (which I feel compelled to include because I came up with two when I needed only one more, and because my hubby may not know it).

8. When I was a little girl, my favorite song was Puff the Magic Dragon. (Oh, and I don't know all the lyrics to that one, either.)

Salter update

Dustin Salter (see previous post) went to be with the Lord on March 19. Please continue to pray for God's grace and provision to be showered on Dustin's wife, Leigh Anne, and their children; they have a difficult journey ahead of them.

Pray for the Salter family

Dustin Salter is a pastor who, until late last year, was a campus minister with Reformed University Fellowship. He was taking a bike ride with two of his children when he hit a bump, wrecked, and suffered severe brain injuries. I was reading Mitch (McGinnis') church blog one night several months ago and linked to a blog (www.redeemerchurch.net/dustin/) which gives updates on Dustin's condition. I check the updates periodically and pray for Dustin and his family, but each time I do, I'm struck by the many difficult mental, emotional and physical challenges his wife and children undoubtedly are experiencing. The link's here for you, that you might pray for his healing and his family's sustenance as well.

I'm thankful to be a part of the larger body of Christ.

Forty favorite memories

This list was meant to commemorate my fortieth birthday. I refused to abandon the idea, even though my birthday is long past. So here they are -- forty of my favorite memories, in no certain order.

• Sitting with Steven atop a Birmingham overlook in October 1987, enjoying a gorgeous autumn view. The world was glowing with hues of gold, orange and crimson on the day he asked me to marry him.
• Hearing the words “It’s a girl!” from my obstetrician, Doctor Belyeu, as he delivered our first child by c-section in June 1993.
• The miraculous moment when God healed my relationship with my Dad, and I knew it.
• Ladies nights out at Macaroni Grill
• Toting Aden around in the baby sling from the time he was a newborn til he was 6 or 7 months old. He was the first baby I was home with, and I cherished the time with him.
• Sitting up til 2:30 a.m. with my sister-in-law, Laura Kay, on a May 2002 family beach trip, chatting and laughing til our cheeks and stomachs hurt.
• Steven, in boxers only, tied (by his fraternity brothers) to a tree outside my sorority house on the campus of Birmingham-Southern in honor of our fraternity/sorority “pinning.”
• Daily conversations at the kitchen table over coffee with my neighbor, Tracey Hambrick, before she and her family moved away.
• September 1990 vacation to Ski Beech, N.C. Steven and I white-water rafted, dined in a general store’s basement cafe, and hiked Grandfather Mountain and Linville Falls.
• Shopping for furniture with my grandmother just after she and Danny bought the house in Moody. I valued the normality of it.
• All the times I told Steven we were having a baby.
• The time Steven told me we were having a baby.
• The smell of cheeseballs cooking every Christmas at my Great Aunt Merle’s, and investigating her huge patio, yard and hidden stairs with my brothers.
• The moment of SURPRISE at my 40th birthday party!
• Lunchtime at BellSouth, howling over I LOVE LUCY episodes with my closest friend, Robin.
• Hanging out with my sister, Christy, who came from Texas to stay with me for a week after Emma was born.
• The day my little brother graduated from high school. No one I knew had worked harder to accomplish what he had.
• The way my mother smelled.
• My mother, wearing really funky, extremely high heeled shoes (as opposed to something a little more appropriate) on a field trip to Tannehill State Park with my 6th-grade class. The other moms must have thought she was ridiculous, but I remember all the other girls being crazy about her.
• Vacations taken with friends – many with the Claytons, women’s trips to the beach, etc.
• My little brother wiping a tear from his eye at my wedding.
• Enjoying coconut cookies and kool-aid every summer at my childhood church’s Vacation Bible School.
• Anita Boykin, in a Bible study 7-8 years ago, challenging my motives for wanting to grow spiritually; want it not merely for the sake of spiritual growth, she said, want it instead so that God would be glorified.
• Answering our telephone in the little Leeds apartment just months after Steven and I married, and hearing Debi Manville’s tremulous voice: “Laura, I’m going to be a Mommy .... in three days.”
• My grandmother, when I was a teenager, reminding me to “Lock your doors,” EVERY time I got in the car to drive to school or work.
• Choosing my wedding dress with the help of Debi Manville.
• Sleeping in the back bedroom in the big double bed all by myself when, as a kid, I spent the night with my (Great) Uncle Jim and (Great Grandmother) Biggy. The solitude was glorious!
• And, speaking of Uncle Jim, sitting on his knee as he entertained me with classic fables and corny jokes. He would always give the characters in the fables the names of my friends and the people in my own neighborhood.
• The first sight of Eli’s hands – they were enormous, and I LOVED them!
• Standing in front of the Lincoln Memorial
• Shopping for souveneirs in Pigeon Forge when Mimi, my dad’s mom, would take us on vacation with her. Outings were rare in our home, where noone drove, and a vacation was the ultimate outing!
• Being called “Sweet Love” and “Doll” by my grandmother
• My 12th-birthday party, planned by my mother and held at the apartment she shared with my stepdad. We played Pin the Mustache on Shaun Cassidy.
• The sights and sounds of San Francisco on a 12th-grade awards/competition trip. Specifically, Fisherman’s Wharf, sourdough bread, Sausalito, the Golden Gate Bridge, trolley cars, row houses and combing the shops of Chinatown for Steven’s souvenir teakwood chess set.
• Seeing my writing in print.
• The first time I heard Steven’s laugh
• The most recent time I heard Steven laugh
• Snoozing in the now-retired ugly pink Lazy-Boy-Recliner with my newborn babies nestled against my chest
• My brother’s wedding gifts to Steven and me – half the cost of my wedding dress, and a wedding night stay at Anniston’s Victoria inn.
• Hearing my husband preach for the first time, and every time since

Just a smattering of my favorites. How about sharing one of yours?

In keeping with my previous post ...

Nineteenth-century educator Charlotte Mason believed that much of learning in life happened through the "science of relations" -- we "connect" with some new idea, then we begin to recognize that idea in other things we hear or read; the idea becomes more meaningful to us, and we develop a lasting connection with it.

After my previous post (the poem), I ran across the following passage in Ken Gire's book, "Windows of the Soul" (highly recommended!). It was definitely a moment of "the science of relations" for me.

A story is told of a pagan who asked a rabbi, "Why did God speak to Moses from the thornbush?" For the pagan thought God should have spoken instead in a peal of thunder on the peak of some majestic mountain. The rabbi answered, "To teach you that there is no place on earth where God's glory is not, not even in a humble thornbush." Can we see the divine humility in the way that word of God was spoken?

Can we see the even greater humility when the word of God was spoken in the middle of the night through the splayed legs of a teenage girl in the barnyard stench of a stable, where divine eloquence was reduced to the whimper of a child?

But why was the word of God so spoken? Why then? Why there?Why in that way?

To teach us, I think, that there is no time, no place, no event so earthly that God cannot be there, speaking through them. These moments where earth is crammed with heaven, these Bethlehem moments where something divine is birthed through very human wombs, will go unnoticed unless we realize the meek and unassuming way that God characteristically comes.

If we are to see the divine artist's soul mediated through the lesser things of flesh and blood, field and stream, flute and drum, we must look for windows in places we are unaccustomed to looking ...."

Both the poem and this passage speak to the same idea, I think -- an idea which God seems to continually be putting before me.

Why this moment?

I love this poem about the coming of Christ. It was a moment like any other moment, nothing seemed special about it -- but God marked it for eternity, and now all of time is measured by it.


BC : AD

This was the moment when Before
Turned into After, and the future's
Uninvented timekeepers presented arms.

This was the moment when nothing
Happened. Only dull peace
Sprawled boringly over the earth.

This was the moment when even energetic Romans
Could find nothing better to do
Than counting heads in remote provinces.

And this was the moment
When a few farm workers and three
Members of an obscure Persian sect

Walked haphazard by starlight straight
Into the kingdom of heaven.

U. A Fanthorpe

Assessing assessment

We will not be planting a church.

There are others better-suited to that ministry, we are told, and other ministry better-suited to us.

The week has been grueling, to say the least.

We have strategized, scrutinized, evangelized, and socialized.

I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so strongly and for such a lengthy time the battle of my flesh against the Spirit. The flesh would tempt me to overanalyze situations, compare us to other candidate couples, and worry what others thought of us, and the Spirit would compel me to pray for God’s grace not to do those very things. Then the flesh would tempt me again to overanalyze, compare and worry, and the Spirit would compel me again to pray. The cycle repeated itself over and over and over again. I’m thankful the Spirit was present and unmistakable to me, but the battle was exhausting.

My emotions have run the gamut. I’ve been calm, anxious, excited, inspired, encouraged, discouraged, comfortable, uncomfortable, heartbroken, convicted, disappointed, angry, bitter, and sad (very, very sad).

My sadness stems less, however, from the fact that we weren’t approved, and more, I’m sorry to say, from fear over the opinions of our fellow candidates and the assessors, and supposition over how we might have performed differently. Shuck it to the cob, and I’m overanalyzing, comparing, and worrying.

The reality is, I know things would have turned out differently at the assessment center ONLY if God had intended us to plant a church and gifted us accordingly. His plan for us is different, and that’s not only OK, it’s also very good.

One day, I’ll forgive the perceived injustices of the system. I’ll rejoice in the gifts God has given us and the long-term ministry direction in which those gifts keep or take us. I’ll be able to accept our areas of struggle for what they are, and seek God’s redeeming grace to change us.

But for now my spirit is weary, my heart is wounded, and I’m struggling to see past the heartache of now to hope for the blessings of the future.

Awakenings

I have been awakened the last several nights by the oddest of sounds.

Birds.

Birds chirping.

Lots of birds chirping -- at 1 a.m.

I don’t recollect this ever having happened before -- wakened, not by an annoying dog, or a sick child, or terrifying thunder, but by the beautiful songs of the birds. I wonder: Don’t the birds generally sing their melodies as day begins to dawn each morning? Or have they always chattered away during the middle of the night, unbeknownst to me?

I’m smitten with the birds. Have been for several years now. Graeme Gibson, an author and bird enthusiast, says bird-lovers have “stumbled onto a seductive truth.” He writes: “ … paying attention to birds, being mindful of them, is being mindful of Life itself. We seldom think of it this clearly, but sometimes, unexpectedly, we are overtaken by a sense of wonder and gratitude.”

In the middle of the night, the birds sang. And it was lovely. Crisp. Clear. Pure. Unblemished by the noise of day.

And I was overtaken. Overtaken, indeed, by a sense of wonder and gratitude. Wonder, that beauty would find me in the midst of my sleep (isn’t that always when beauty hits us strongest – when we’re, metaphorically speaking, asleep). And gratitude, that I would be given so sweet a gift.

Gibson says, "Surely it is the encounter with a force much larger than ourselves that moves us [to this sense of wonder and gratitude]." I’m not so sure what "force" Gibson meant; life, maybe. But he may be more right than he even realizes, because of this I am certain: surely, it was an encounter with a Force much larger than myself that moved me so in the middle of the night.

“For since the creation of the world, His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made….” Romans 1:20