In every trial, large or small--whether a small instance of being sinned against, or an especially difficult season of life with no end in sight--there comes a crucial moment. Actually, it doesn't come just once, but dozens of times. It is the moment when you recognize where you are wrong: when you realize at some deep level in your heart, in some small part of your mind, that there is a significant difference between what God says is true and what you are believing or thinking or feeling.
In that moment, you are faced with a choice. You can continue to rehearse the laments ("vent")--to your journal, your husband, your best friend, or just on an endless internal loop. You can dwell on the potential miseries, feed the fears and the resentment, preach to yourself about how much you suck or how wrong the other person is or how awful this is going to be.
Or you can fight. You can let go of your plans, surrender your emotions, settle into what IS rather than what you wish were. You can't fight a week-long or a six-month or a ten-year battle, but you can put on your armor and fight for joy--fight to believe truth--today.
If you're like me, when you come to this critical realization, there's a little part of you that doesn't want to give up the wallowing yet. Sometimes I think I just want to keep stewing in a big ol' pity party for a while. It's almost like I fear that choosing to fight means pretending that these emotions weren't real and deep, that it doesn't really hurt. But...I can acknowledge them as powerful and real without being ruled by them. And reality is, wallowing doesn't accomplish anything. It doesn't change the situation, and it doesn't make facing the trial any easier. In fact, you could argue, just the opposite.
Fighting, on the other hand--that changes everything. It means you will get beat up, even face the agony of defeat at times (though this is made bearable knowing you will never face ultimate defeat because victory has already been won by Christ!). It doesn't mean being Pollyanna, slapping on your shiny, happy Christian face and pretending. It means gritting your teeth and digging in your heels and clinging to Jesus with all your might. It means preaching to yourself about how God sees and loves you in your unlovable mess, how Jesus' blood covers all the ways you suck, how all this is going to be a *beautiful* mess because it's going to be used for your good and God's glory. Guaranteed.
For me, it means being vulnerable and humble with my husband and other trusted friends, asking them to fight for me, relying on them to hold up my trembling arms as Aaron and Hur did for weary Moses, to hold up their shields of faith when I cannot keep mine upright. It means, to paraphrase Tim Keller, trusting that although these events may reveal me to be more sinful than I even believed, I am also, in the midst of them, more loved than I have dared to hope.
I am not called to fight the hundred-years' war. I have only to fight in this moment. I cannot look ahead and fear what may come; instead, I must fix my eyes on Jesus, be fully present HERE, and trust that the grace for tomorrow will be there tomorrow.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
Multitude Monday, Take 236
Counting the gifts, one thousand gifts, isn’t a pop culture kind of gratitude. It isn’t a new age kind of feel-good exercise. It isn’t trendy. And it definitely isn’t comfortable.Thanking the King of Kings this week for...
Counting one thousand gifts is to live the radical thanks to Christ. It’s about an exercise in the age to come coming now and finding comfort in the Comforter. It’s the culture of believers really believing, the culture of God and the Blood of the Lamb.
This world doesn’t need trendy gratitude like it needs Jesus gratitude.
The kind that gives thanks for the bread and the nails, for the fire that refines and the blood that saves.
That gives thanks in the pitch and the thunder, the wind and Gethsemane black, that gives thanks even staring into the face of death because it sees His face in all things — because it fiercely believes in relentless Grace and the Hound of Heaven who can’t stop pursuing in Love.
That doesn’t gives nebulous thanks to the universe, but named thanks to the King of the Universe.
--Ann Voskamp
2673. husband encouraging me to use my gifts
2674. dance party with my boys
2675. keeping all His promises
2676. a birthday party for a sweet girl from church
2677. music that voices my heart
2678. a baby whom I have to get up and nurse at 4:40AM
2679. His kind providence in my Bible reading plan
2680. room full of friends singing hymns together
2681. Jude's growing use of signs (I need to learn some more!)
2682. a friend babysitting for the boys during an appointment
2683. free pizza from Papa John's
2684. sweet emails from friends, and their prayers
2685. a delightful snail-mail note
2686. long walk on the greenway
2687. dinner out with my guys
2688. custom playlists of favorite songs
2689. Elijah's verdict on the cutout sugar cookies we made: "It's the most delicious cookie I've ever seen."
2690. a husband who is so easy to respect
2691. Steve's gospel insights
2692. the countless ways he serves and serves and serves me
2693. grace to trust when I don't understand
2694. the assurance that He will complete what He's begun in me
2695. the knowledge that everything in my life has been appointed by Him in love
2696. the guarantee that what He desires gets done
in:
gratitude
Friday, February 17, 2012
What We Forget; What He Forgets
"...she...went after her lovers and forgot me, declares the LORD" (Hosea 2:13).
Our problem is not that we don't know. It's not ignorance of who God is, lack of understanding what's right. Our problem is persistent spiritual amnesia--a diagnosis far more serious, far deeper, than any in the DSM-IV. We forget. We forget who God is, what He has done in history. We forget the cross and the resurrection; we forget that Heaven awaits. We forget who we are and what God has done in *our* history. We forget that He is Emmanuel--with us here, now.
God doesn't forget.
He doesn't forget us; He has engraved us on the palms of His hands. He doesn't forget His promises. He doesn't forget to care for us, to orchestrate world events, to protect and grow His children. He forgets just one thing: our sins.
We forget how lovely He is--and He forgets how unlovable we are. We forget His mercy, but He remembers mercy.
"For I will remove the names of the Baals from her mouth, and they shall be remembered by name no more" (Hosea 2:17).
O Lord, heal our memories. Heal our forgetful, wayward hearts. Cause us to forget the false gods we have chased, to forget the fleeting moments of pleasure they have given. Cause us instead to remember the emptiness of their promises, the lack of lasting satisfaction, the ugliness of betraying You. Cause us to remember Your name, to remember who You have called us and made us to be. Cause us to remember the cross, remember the inheritance that is ours, remember what You have done and what You have forgotten. Then may we, too, forget our sins and lose ourselves in the flood of Your grace. Help us to remember You.
Related:
Forget Not
Remembered, Remembering
Our problem is not that we don't know. It's not ignorance of who God is, lack of understanding what's right. Our problem is persistent spiritual amnesia--a diagnosis far more serious, far deeper, than any in the DSM-IV. We forget. We forget who God is, what He has done in history. We forget the cross and the resurrection; we forget that Heaven awaits. We forget who we are and what God has done in *our* history. We forget that He is Emmanuel--with us here, now.
God doesn't forget.
He doesn't forget us; He has engraved us on the palms of His hands. He doesn't forget His promises. He doesn't forget to care for us, to orchestrate world events, to protect and grow His children. He forgets just one thing: our sins.
We forget how lovely He is--and He forgets how unlovable we are. We forget His mercy, but He remembers mercy.
"For I will remove the names of the Baals from her mouth, and they shall be remembered by name no more" (Hosea 2:17).
O Lord, heal our memories. Heal our forgetful, wayward hearts. Cause us to forget the false gods we have chased, to forget the fleeting moments of pleasure they have given. Cause us instead to remember the emptiness of their promises, the lack of lasting satisfaction, the ugliness of betraying You. Cause us to remember Your name, to remember who You have called us and made us to be. Cause us to remember the cross, remember the inheritance that is ours, remember what You have done and what You have forgotten. Then may we, too, forget our sins and lose ourselves in the flood of Your grace. Help us to remember You.
Related:
Forget Not
Remembered, Remembering
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
God's Delight
Did you know that if you are in Christ, God delights in your welfare? That He isn't indifferent about what happens to you--that He isn't even just "working all things together for your good" in a detached, objective, unemotional way?
In His kind providence, He had me in Psalm 35 yesterday, where verse 27 stopped me:
"Let those who delight in my righteousness
shout for joy and be glad
and say evermore,
'Great is the LORD,
who delights in the welfare of his servant!'
Then my tongue shall tell of your righteousness
and of your praise all the day long."
--Psalm 35:27-28
God delights in the welfare of His servant! I am far from a faithful servant--but I am seen as one because I am covered by the righteousness of Christ the Suffering Servant. And so God is FOR me--His heart earnestly desires my good. He is not capricious or vindictive, spiteful or merciless. He doesn't even treat me as I deserve. It brings Him joy to see that I am taken care of. He smiles to see me thriving.
That means when I am *not* thriving--I must trust this revelation of His heart more than I trust my perception of the situation. God wants to see me thriving. So in any given circumstance, however it looks to me, He is at work to promote my ultimate well-being. The word in Hebrew is shalom--that word that goes far beyond simple peace but means wholeness, prosperity, life-as-it-was-created-to-be, all-is-well. God alone knows what "welfare" looks like for me--and He alone knows how to get there, and what kinds of anything-but-delightful trials I must go through to get there.
But that is where we are headed, together--both anticipating the day when I am whole and well and telling of His righteousness to others who will shout for joy and be glad in Him and say with me, "Great is the LORD, who delights in the welfare of his servant!"
In His kind providence, He had me in Psalm 35 yesterday, where verse 27 stopped me:
"Let those who delight in my righteousness
shout for joy and be glad
and say evermore,
'Great is the LORD,
who delights in the welfare of his servant!'
Then my tongue shall tell of your righteousness
and of your praise all the day long."
--Psalm 35:27-28
God delights in the welfare of His servant! I am far from a faithful servant--but I am seen as one because I am covered by the righteousness of Christ the Suffering Servant. And so God is FOR me--His heart earnestly desires my good. He is not capricious or vindictive, spiteful or merciless. He doesn't even treat me as I deserve. It brings Him joy to see that I am taken care of. He smiles to see me thriving.
That means when I am *not* thriving--I must trust this revelation of His heart more than I trust my perception of the situation. God wants to see me thriving. So in any given circumstance, however it looks to me, He is at work to promote my ultimate well-being. The word in Hebrew is shalom--that word that goes far beyond simple peace but means wholeness, prosperity, life-as-it-was-created-to-be, all-is-well. God alone knows what "welfare" looks like for me--and He alone knows how to get there, and what kinds of anything-but-delightful trials I must go through to get there.
But that is where we are headed, together--both anticipating the day when I am whole and well and telling of His righteousness to others who will shout for joy and be glad in Him and say with me, "Great is the LORD, who delights in the welfare of his servant!"
Friday, February 10, 2012
If Only We Had a Bigger God
In Judges 17-18, we find the story of Micah and the Levite. In defiance of God’s law and ways, Micah had a bunch of silver made into carved images and set up a shrine in his home with household gods. Then he compelled a young Levite to be his own personal priest, and he felt pretty satisfied with his manmade religion. [What does this have to do with you, today? Hang with me...]
Meanwhile, the tribe of Dan was looking for an inheritance, so five spies set out, eventually meeting Micah with his priest and his household gods. After the Danite spies returned home with a good report about the wealth of the land, the tribe of Dan returned to conquer the country. And they made a special point of returning to Micah’s house and stealing “the carved image, the ephod, the household gods, and the metal image” (Judges 18:18).
When Micah discovered this, he was predictably upset, and gathered his neighbors to go overtake the people of Dan. Micah indignantly asked them, “You take my gods that I made and the priest, and go away, and what have I left?” (v. 24)
When our pastor preached through this story during his series on Judges last year, he spent some time focused on the line “You take my gods that I made...and what have I left?” He said:
Micah's gods were manmade and they were small. So it was no major feat for the Danites to make off with them—and Micah was left empty-handed, robbed of the source of his satisfaction and contentment, his peace and security, his joy.
Hear this, O my soul: all other gods can be taken away from us. Anything I set up as an idol, anything I look to for identity, happiness, worth, contentment, fullness, security, LIFE abundant—it can all be stripped away. My husband. My children. Health. Money, possessions. Food. Physical comfort. Others' approval and admiration. Friends.
Not long after that sermon, I read something related in Ann Voskamp's beautiful book:
There is a fine line, of course, between losses that can (even should) be legitimately grieved, and the despair we feel when robbed of idols. Jesus didn't reprimand Mary and Martha for making an idol of their brother; He wept with them.
Yet so much of the disappointment I experience each day, so much of “the gnawing,” so much ache and emptiness and frustration and bitter, resentful anger, points to my idolatry. My gods have been taken from me, and what have I left?
Stephen continued:
My gods have been taken from me, and what have I left?
Christ.
When all these idols have been stripped away, what do I have left? Jesus.
All other gods can be taken from me at any moment. But Christ can never be taken from me, nor I from Him.
If only I had a bigger God, my joy could not be robbed so easily!
“I say to the LORD, 'You are my Lord;
I have no good apart from you.'” (Psalm 16:2)
Oh Jesus, be “My Lord and my God!” (John 20:28) Don't let me run after idols today; don't let me set my heart on the things that can be taken away. Teach me to cling to you, to trust that You can and will satisfy my heart like nothing and no one else can. Open my eyes to see that you are more precious and beautiful than anything else I long for. And make me know and hate the reality of betraying You by running after lesser, smaller pleasures.
Related:
The Idolatry of Jealousy
Idolatry Part 3: Abundant Life
Modern Idolatry: Keller and Powlison
Meanwhile, the tribe of Dan was looking for an inheritance, so five spies set out, eventually meeting Micah with his priest and his household gods. After the Danite spies returned home with a good report about the wealth of the land, the tribe of Dan returned to conquer the country. And they made a special point of returning to Micah’s house and stealing “the carved image, the ephod, the household gods, and the metal image” (Judges 18:18).
When Micah discovered this, he was predictably upset, and gathered his neighbors to go overtake the people of Dan. Micah indignantly asked them, “You take my gods that I made and the priest, and go away, and what have I left?” (v. 24)
When our pastor preached through this story during his series on Judges last year, he spent some time focused on the line “You take my gods that I made...and what have I left?” He said:
It's hilarious!—and sad. That's the whole point of idolatry. [A false god is] something that I can control—but if it's something I can control, somebody else can control it. Somebody else can take it away from me.
If my prosperity is my god, it can be taken away from me. If my theology is my god, it can be taken away from me. If my marriage is my god, it can be taken away from me. If my acceptance with people is my god, it can be taken away from me. And if it's taken away from us, what will we have left?
But if you have God in Christ, He cannot be taken away from you! You can't steal our God away from the hearts of his people. We're supposed to look at this and say, “Poor, pathetic Micah—if only he had a bigger God, his joy would not be robbed so easily. His contentment would not be robbed so easily.”
And that is true of you and of me. Why are our joy and our satisfaction so easily taken from us? Because our god is not big enough.
Micah's gods were manmade and they were small. So it was no major feat for the Danites to make off with them—and Micah was left empty-handed, robbed of the source of his satisfaction and contentment, his peace and security, his joy.
Hear this, O my soul: all other gods can be taken away from us. Anything I set up as an idol, anything I look to for identity, happiness, worth, contentment, fullness, security, LIFE abundant—it can all be stripped away. My husband. My children. Health. Money, possessions. Food. Physical comfort. Others' approval and admiration. Friends.
Not long after that sermon, I read something related in Ann Voskamp's beautiful book:
“...life is loss. Every day, the gnawing...What will I lose? Health? Comfort? Hope? Eventually I am guaranteed to lose every earthly thing I have ever possessed. When will I lose? Today? In a few weeks? How much time have I got before the next loss? Who will I lose? And that's definite: I will lose every single person I have ever loved. Either abruptly or eventually. All human relationships end in loss. Am I prepared for that? Every step I take forward in my life is a loss of something in my life and I live the waiting: How and of what will I be emptied today?” (p. 84-85)
There is a fine line, of course, between losses that can (even should) be legitimately grieved, and the despair we feel when robbed of idols. Jesus didn't reprimand Mary and Martha for making an idol of their brother; He wept with them.
Yet so much of the disappointment I experience each day, so much of “the gnawing,” so much ache and emptiness and frustration and bitter, resentful anger, points to my idolatry. My gods have been taken from me, and what have I left?
Stephen continued:
God is big. But when we settle for idolatry, it all can be taken away from us. Every disappointment that you feel, if it doesn't result in turning to God, worshiping God, loving God, being satisfied in Him, saying, “There is none in heaven or on earth that I desire besides You; You are my portion; You are my strength; though You slay me, yet I will serve You”—then we're just like Micah.
When we're having a bad day, when we get a bad grade, when the bills aren't being paid, when a hundred other things happen, we say, “What do I have left?” Do any of you feel that despair? What do I have left?
You have, in Christ, God. And if you have God, you have all.
My gods have been taken from me, and what have I left?
Christ.
When all these idols have been stripped away, what do I have left? Jesus.
All other gods can be taken from me at any moment. But Christ can never be taken from me, nor I from Him.
If only I had a bigger God, my joy could not be robbed so easily!
“I say to the LORD, 'You are my Lord;
I have no good apart from you.'” (Psalm 16:2)
Oh Jesus, be “My Lord and my God!” (John 20:28) Don't let me run after idols today; don't let me set my heart on the things that can be taken away. Teach me to cling to you, to trust that You can and will satisfy my heart like nothing and no one else can. Open my eyes to see that you are more precious and beautiful than anything else I long for. And make me know and hate the reality of betraying You by running after lesser, smaller pleasures.
Related:
The Idolatry of Jealousy
Idolatry Part 3: Abundant Life
Modern Idolatry: Keller and Powlison
Tuesday, February 07, 2012
Joy Here, in Real Life
Sunday evening found me praying in the car, fighting back tears, willing myself for the umpteenth time to choose truth over emotions. My weekend retreat was full of blessings, but now I was about to return to real life. And as much as I missed my husband and my boys, I did not miss the especially-intense-recently parenting struggles, the constant failure and exposure of my ugly heart. I had enjoyed the 48-hour escape, maybe a little too much, and now I was fighting to re-enter well.
As I drove the last stretch toward home by myself, having dropped off two friends and their luggage, my mind went to that familiar favorite, Psalm 16. I reminded myself that "the lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance" (v. 6). Then I repeated aloud, as a desperate prayer, the last verse:
"...in your presence there is fullness of joy;
at your right hand are pleasures forevermore."
But Sunday evening, as I took a deep breath and prepared for the whining and the correction and the call to die that would come with the hugs and giggles, I remembered that I must fight for joy. It may be hiding. It is not all sunshine and rainbows; it may not look like I expect or think I prefer. But I am in His presence here. That means there is joy here.
And then I thought about the last line: at your right hand are pleasures forevermore. Again, I've always read it as a Heaven promise. When we stand before God's throne--when we can actually be present next to Him--we'll experience ultimate pleasure. But this time it struck me: Who is at God's right hand? "Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us" (Romans 8:34). Pleasures at God's right hand are pleasures in Jesus. Jesus came in order that I might know full and lasting joy! So my calling every day, here, in the midst of normal life, is to seek and find pleasure in Jesus--not trust in idols that disappoint, not run for refuge to things that offer temporary, fleeting happiness, but abide in Christ.
Related:
As I drove the last stretch toward home by myself, having dropped off two friends and their luggage, my mind went to that familiar favorite, Psalm 16. I reminded myself that "the lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance" (v. 6). Then I repeated aloud, as a desperate prayer, the last verse:
"...in your presence there is fullness of joy;
at your right hand are pleasures forevermore."
If there is fullness of joy in His presence...and He is present everywhere, inescapable, never leaving or forsaking me...then there is joy HERE. Not just on a retreat, during a break from my responsibilities and my struggles. Not just two hours away from home, surrounded by like-minded friends, unneeded by dependent children. HERE.
In the past, I always read this verse as a hopeful Heaven promise. You know, on That Day, when every tear is wiped away, and sin and satan are forever destroyed, when we stand in the presence of God, *that's* where fullness of joy is. Here, today? Not so much.
But Sunday evening, as I took a deep breath and prepared for the whining and the correction and the call to die that would come with the hugs and giggles, I remembered that I must fight for joy. It may be hiding. It is not all sunshine and rainbows; it may not look like I expect or think I prefer. But I am in His presence here. That means there is joy here.
And then I thought about the last line: at your right hand are pleasures forevermore. Again, I've always read it as a Heaven promise. When we stand before God's throne--when we can actually be present next to Him--we'll experience ultimate pleasure. But this time it struck me: Who is at God's right hand? "Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us" (Romans 8:34). Pleasures at God's right hand are pleasures in Jesus. Jesus came in order that I might know full and lasting joy! So my calling every day, here, in the midst of normal life, is to seek and find pleasure in Jesus--not trust in idols that disappoint, not run for refuge to things that offer temporary, fleeting happiness, but abide in Christ.
Some days, I am not honestly sure how. But over and over and over again, God is trying to teach me to believe Him and fight for joy and choose to praise Him and trust Him here, now. In His presence there is fullness of joy and at His right hand are pleasures forevermore and He is *here* and joy is here. I will tell myself until I know it to be true.
[edited repost from the archives]
[edited repost from the archives]
Related:
Monday, February 06, 2012
Multitude Monday, Take 235
Thanking God this week for...
2658. a weekend away with the beautiful women of our church
2659. a giving, loving husband who made it possible by caring for the boys all weekend
2660. prayer together
2661. lots and lots of laughter
2662. news that a friend is pregnant
2663. His generous Father-heart that delights to hear and answer our prayers
2664. women's voices singing praises
2665. sweatpants and comfy clothes
2666. women testifying about answered prayer
2667. an afternoon hike to a pretty scenic overlook
2668. my fellow planners' hard work before and during the retreat
2669. opportunities to learn from and be challenged by these dear women
2670. grace to re-enter real life
2671. hugs from my guys
2672. my own soft bed with Steve in it
2658. a weekend away with the beautiful women of our church
2659. a giving, loving husband who made it possible by caring for the boys all weekend
2660. prayer together
2661. lots and lots of laughter
2662. news that a friend is pregnant
2663. His generous Father-heart that delights to hear and answer our prayers
2664. women's voices singing praises
2665. sweatpants and comfy clothes
2666. women testifying about answered prayer
2667. an afternoon hike to a pretty scenic overlook
2668. my fellow planners' hard work before and during the retreat
2669. opportunities to learn from and be challenged by these dear women
2670. grace to re-enter real life
2671. hugs from my guys
2672. my own soft bed with Steve in it
in:
gratitude
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Fully Known...and Fully Loved
"Many Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman's testimony, 'He told me all that I ever did.' So when the Samaritans came to him, they asked him to stay with them, and he stayed there two days" (John 4:39-40).
I feel flabbergasted every time I read John 4 and encounter the enthusiasm over the Samaritan woman's line "He told me all that I ever did" (John 4:39). I would not be at all excited to meet a man who knew and could broadcast all the sordid details of my life! What was going through the Samaritans' minds as they rushed to see Jesus--and what was going through the infamous Samaritan woman's mind?
The whole account seems so strange. Jesus calls the woman out on her shady relationship history. She hardly seems to blink; she merely, swiftly, changes the subject from her seedy past to worship controversies. How was she feeling; what was she thinking? Ashamed? Too amazed and bewildered to feel embarrassed? Perplexed by all of His mysterious talk? A growing excitement and anticipation, a hope that there was something about this Man...could He, maybe, be...?
So she runs and tells the whole town that He exposed her. Did they all already know her as the local whore? If she was ostracized, as I think I've heard in sermons but don't necessarily get just from this text, why would she want to tell the people who shunned and shamed her? Would there have been a kind of glory in knowing Him first, being the bearer of good news--that just having met and talked with Him and being branded as having more intimacy with Him than anyone else in town would somehow redeem her?
Why did the people care what she had to say? If her reputation was already well-known, how would it be so impressive if Jesus knew the details? I guess maybe because He was a Jew, so just because all the Samaritans knew about her, doesn't mean He would ever have talked to them to find out.
"He told me all that I ever did." A strange testimony. But what else could she have said that would convince them, capture their attention and their curiosity, draw them to Him? "I met a guy who says He is the Messiah!"--so what? Hadn't they heard that line before? Any crackpot can make such a claim, unsubstantiated. His prophetic knowledge of the woman's life would give him credibility.
So she celebrates that she is known. Announces it to the world. And the people flock. Do they, too, really want to be known?
There is one thing that would change my statement, "I would not be excited to meet a man who knew all the sordid details of my life." Simply add four words: "...and loved me anyway."
Is it true that we all want to be fully, deeply KNOWN? Perhaps, but half-true. I think we want to be known and loved. What good is being known if the knowledge makes a person turn away, repulsed?
But this Jesus...He knows, and loves. He knows, and invites. He knows, and has compassion.
That is the gospel.
"God demonstrates his own love for us in this; while we were still sinners, Christ died for us."
"In love he predestined us for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ..."
"Come, see a man who told me all that I ever did." Jesus knew every deed, every thought, every motive of my heart. Further, he interpreted all these in light of ultimate truth; He told me all that I REALLY did: how I loved my own glory and robbed God of His. How sins that I thought were "no big deal" led to the shameful slaughter of God's Son. He told me all this...and yet He loved me. Chose me. Called me. Adopted me. Betrothed me to Himself. Redeemed me. Freed me.
I feel flabbergasted every time I read John 4 and encounter the enthusiasm over the Samaritan woman's line "He told me all that I ever did" (John 4:39). I would not be at all excited to meet a man who knew and could broadcast all the sordid details of my life! What was going through the Samaritans' minds as they rushed to see Jesus--and what was going through the infamous Samaritan woman's mind?
The whole account seems so strange. Jesus calls the woman out on her shady relationship history. She hardly seems to blink; she merely, swiftly, changes the subject from her seedy past to worship controversies. How was she feeling; what was she thinking? Ashamed? Too amazed and bewildered to feel embarrassed? Perplexed by all of His mysterious talk? A growing excitement and anticipation, a hope that there was something about this Man...could He, maybe, be...?
So she runs and tells the whole town that He exposed her. Did they all already know her as the local whore? If she was ostracized, as I think I've heard in sermons but don't necessarily get just from this text, why would she want to tell the people who shunned and shamed her? Would there have been a kind of glory in knowing Him first, being the bearer of good news--that just having met and talked with Him and being branded as having more intimacy with Him than anyone else in town would somehow redeem her?
Why did the people care what she had to say? If her reputation was already well-known, how would it be so impressive if Jesus knew the details? I guess maybe because He was a Jew, so just because all the Samaritans knew about her, doesn't mean He would ever have talked to them to find out.
"He told me all that I ever did." A strange testimony. But what else could she have said that would convince them, capture their attention and their curiosity, draw them to Him? "I met a guy who says He is the Messiah!"--so what? Hadn't they heard that line before? Any crackpot can make such a claim, unsubstantiated. His prophetic knowledge of the woman's life would give him credibility.
So she celebrates that she is known. Announces it to the world. And the people flock. Do they, too, really want to be known?
There is one thing that would change my statement, "I would not be excited to meet a man who knew all the sordid details of my life." Simply add four words: "...and loved me anyway."
Is it true that we all want to be fully, deeply KNOWN? Perhaps, but half-true. I think we want to be known and loved. What good is being known if the knowledge makes a person turn away, repulsed?
But this Jesus...He knows, and loves. He knows, and invites. He knows, and has compassion.
That is the gospel.
"God demonstrates his own love for us in this; while we were still sinners, Christ died for us."
"In love he predestined us for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ..."
"Come, see a man who told me all that I ever did." Jesus knew every deed, every thought, every motive of my heart. Further, he interpreted all these in light of ultimate truth; He told me all that I REALLY did: how I loved my own glory and robbed God of His. How sins that I thought were "no big deal" led to the shameful slaughter of God's Son. He told me all this...and yet He loved me. Chose me. Called me. Adopted me. Betrothed me to Himself. Redeemed me. Freed me.
No one knows our hearts better than you, Father; and you search our hearts to care for us, not chide us; to deliver us, not shame us; to parent us, not embarrass us. You’ve never surprised at what you find. There’s no search and discovery; there’s kindness and engagement.Known fully. And loved perfectly. Good news.
You know the best and worse about us—our fears and our foolishness; our struggles with sin and our standing in Christ. You know us better than anyone could and you love us more than anyone would.
(Scotty Smith, "A Prayer for Days When You Don't Feel Like Praying")
Monday, January 30, 2012
Multitude Monday, Take 234
I hit ten thousand gifts this past week. 10,000. Have you ever counted ANYTHING that high?
I've been blogging a weekly thankful-list for several years (it was Thankful Thursday back in the day), but I never actually counted until much later. Inspired by Ann Voskamp, I began a visual homemaking journal in July 2009, and that became the home for my ongoing list of gifts (I pick a few highlights from there to post on the blog each week--which is why I'm only at 2600 here). At some point, I read Ann's rationale for actually *counting*, rather than just listing, and so I went back (anal-retentive as I am) and numbered them all from the beginning of that first journal. The numbers climbed, slowly at first and then piling up more and more each day (giving thanks is addictive, the best kind of habit-forming). After just two and a half years, I hit 10,000.
Kind of puts life in perspective. Ten thousand gifts from the generous hand of my Father. Ten times ten times ten good things He has put in my life over the last two and a half years--vastly more than that, for sure, but these are just the ones I wrote down. Can I doubt that He loves me, that He cares, that He is for me, that the lines around this life of mine have fallen (no matter how much I'm tempted to believe differently) in pleasant places?
And yet--even in the face of this reality--I still do doubt. I still do chafe against the boundary lines. So I keep counting. I keep forcing myself to stop and look and give thanks, in the hopes that when I do, I will be better equipped to choose hallelujah. Praising helps me see, and seeing helps me praise.
"Gratitude is a lifestyle. A hard-fought, grace-infused, biblical lifestyle. And though there's a sense in which anyone can be thankful--for God has extended His common grace to all--the true glory and the transforming power of gratitude are reserved for those who know and acknowledge the Giver of every good gift and who are recipients of His redeeming grace."
--Nancy Leigh DeMoss, Choosing Gratitude
I've been blogging a weekly thankful-list for several years (it was Thankful Thursday back in the day), but I never actually counted until much later. Inspired by Ann Voskamp, I began a visual homemaking journal in July 2009, and that became the home for my ongoing list of gifts (I pick a few highlights from there to post on the blog each week--which is why I'm only at 2600 here). At some point, I read Ann's rationale for actually *counting*, rather than just listing, and so I went back (anal-retentive as I am) and numbered them all from the beginning of that first journal. The numbers climbed, slowly at first and then piling up more and more each day (giving thanks is addictive, the best kind of habit-forming). After just two and a half years, I hit 10,000.
Kind of puts life in perspective. Ten thousand gifts from the generous hand of my Father. Ten times ten times ten good things He has put in my life over the last two and a half years--vastly more than that, for sure, but these are just the ones I wrote down. Can I doubt that He loves me, that He cares, that He is for me, that the lines around this life of mine have fallen (no matter how much I'm tempted to believe differently) in pleasant places?
And yet--even in the face of this reality--I still do doubt. I still do chafe against the boundary lines. So I keep counting. I keep forcing myself to stop and look and give thanks, in the hopes that when I do, I will be better equipped to choose hallelujah. Praising helps me see, and seeing helps me praise.
"Gratitude is a lifestyle. A hard-fought, grace-infused, biblical lifestyle. And though there's a sense in which anyone can be thankful--for God has extended His common grace to all--the true glory and the transforming power of gratitude are reserved for those who know and acknowledge the Giver of every good gift and who are recipients of His redeeming grace."
--Nancy Leigh DeMoss, Choosing Gratitude
Thanking God this week for...
2634. babysitter reading dozens and dozens of books to my boys
2635. email inbox cleaned out
2636. Jude jabbering and giggling at bedtime, Elijah shushing him
2637. hard but really good conversations
2638. Jude's hair in a soapy mohawk
2639. dinner with our dear friends on Wednesday nights
2640. our turn to be family of the week on our church's prayer list
2641. the joy of keeping track of His gifts
2642. a trip to Adventure Science Center with some of our favorite people
2643. their coming to stay with us all weekend
2644. a house full of friends and laughter and conversation
2645. new and old board games
2646. Steve getting beaten by a seven-year-old at a strategy game :)
2647. vivid reminders that this season of parenting won't last forever
2648. lunch out with Diane while the guys watched the kids
2649. the fact that my apparent food poisoning was short-lived
2650. Steve babying me when I am sick
2651. Grandma June's old rocking chair in the boys' room
2652. the ability to breathe through my nose
2653. Steve praying for me
2654. hearing my cries and answering me
2655. being slow to anger
2656. being full of compassion and mercy
2657. Steve preaching the gospel to me
in:
gratitude
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
I Am Not the Christ
We tend to identify ourselves in positive terms. But when John the Baptist is asked who he is, he offers the following unusual response:
"And this is the testimony of John, when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, 'Who are you?' He confessed, and did not deny, but confessed, 'I am not the Christ'" (John 1:19-20).
The most important part of John's identity here is what he is NOT: I am not the Christ. Such adamance here--confessed, did not deny, confessed--making it absolutely clear that this is not the Messiah. And in emphasizing this, it heightens expectation that there IS someone coming who fills this role.
How would it benefit me to echo John's testimony? "I am not the Christ."
I am not the Christ. I am the mother. My job is not to save my children, to transform their hearts through the perfect discipline methods and make them follow Jesus. I am simply a tool in His hands to point them to Him, the Savior whom they need more than they need me.
I am not the Christ. I am the wife. My role is not to change my husband, but to respect and encourage and pray for him, trusting that God wants him to grow in Christlikeness even more than I do and knows how best to make that happen.
I am not the Christ. I cannot save myself. I cannot at any moment, before or after regeneration, earn God's favor and acceptance. I cannot change my own heart; I cannot walk in perfect obedience; I cannot make myself holy enough to enter His presence. My hope is not in my willpower, my knowledge, my success.
But I *have* a Savior, thanks be to God! There IS a Christ--Jesus the Christ--and He came for me! He had and deserved God's favor, and bestowed it on me. He sent His Spirit to breathe life into my dead soul and replaced my heart of stone with a heart of flesh. He walked in perfect obedience, and imputes that righteousness to me. He sits at the right hand of God and invites me to come boldly to the throne of grace. I am NOT the Christ--my hope is in the true Christ, Jesus the One and Only.
[edited repost from the archives]
"And this is the testimony of John, when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, 'Who are you?' He confessed, and did not deny, but confessed, 'I am not the Christ'" (John 1:19-20).
The most important part of John's identity here is what he is NOT: I am not the Christ. Such adamance here--confessed, did not deny, confessed--making it absolutely clear that this is not the Messiah. And in emphasizing this, it heightens expectation that there IS someone coming who fills this role.
How would it benefit me to echo John's testimony? "I am not the Christ."
I am not the Christ. I am the mother. My job is not to save my children, to transform their hearts through the perfect discipline methods and make them follow Jesus. I am simply a tool in His hands to point them to Him, the Savior whom they need more than they need me.
I am not the Christ. I am the wife. My role is not to change my husband, but to respect and encourage and pray for him, trusting that God wants him to grow in Christlikeness even more than I do and knows how best to make that happen.
I am not the Christ. I cannot save myself. I cannot at any moment, before or after regeneration, earn God's favor and acceptance. I cannot change my own heart; I cannot walk in perfect obedience; I cannot make myself holy enough to enter His presence. My hope is not in my willpower, my knowledge, my success.
But I *have* a Savior, thanks be to God! There IS a Christ--Jesus the Christ--and He came for me! He had and deserved God's favor, and bestowed it on me. He sent His Spirit to breathe life into my dead soul and replaced my heart of stone with a heart of flesh. He walked in perfect obedience, and imputes that righteousness to me. He sits at the right hand of God and invites me to come boldly to the throne of grace. I am NOT the Christ--my hope is in the true Christ, Jesus the One and Only.
[edited repost from the archives]
Monday, January 23, 2012
Multitude Monday, Take 233
"And from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace" (John 1:16).
The fact that I have breath, that I woke up today, that I am not suffering eternally for my rebellion and idolatry--pure grace. The countless, endless gifts He gives me instead--material and intangible, great and small, people, things, experiences, fleeting and lasting--all undeserved blessings from God's generous hand, from His full-to-overflowing goodness and glorious grace.
Thanking Him today for...
2606. grace to stay on track with my Bible reading plan
2607. Elijah helping me bake cookies
2608. Qdoba, courtesy of a Christmas gift card
2609. a new-to-us couch
2610. someone from Freecycle hauling away our old couch
2611. rechargeable batteries
2612. kitchen timers
2613. bandaids
2614. dinner and prayer with dear friends
2615. clean sinks and toilets and bathtubs
2616. clothes hamper filled with board books, courtesy of Jude
2617. grilled cheese and tomato soup
2618. photos a friend took--usually I am behind the camera, so it is fun to have some of me *with* the boys!
The fact that I have breath, that I woke up today, that I am not suffering eternally for my rebellion and idolatry--pure grace. The countless, endless gifts He gives me instead--material and intangible, great and small, people, things, experiences, fleeting and lasting--all undeserved blessings from God's generous hand, from His full-to-overflowing goodness and glorious grace.
Thanking Him today for...
2606. grace to stay on track with my Bible reading plan
2607. Elijah helping me bake cookies
2608. Qdoba, courtesy of a Christmas gift card
2609. a new-to-us couch
2610. someone from Freecycle hauling away our old couch
2611. rechargeable batteries
2612. kitchen timers
2613. bandaids
2614. dinner and prayer with dear friends
2615. clean sinks and toilets and bathtubs
2616. clothes hamper filled with board books, courtesy of Jude
2617. grilled cheese and tomato soup
2618. photos a friend took--usually I am behind the camera, so it is fun to have some of me *with* the boys!
2619. the fact that my hair grows fast
2620. a visit from my parents
2621. their babysitting so Steve and I could go on a date
2622. time for uninterrupted conversation with Steve
2623. Jude asking to be read to
2624. Pops reading to Jude
2625. Grammy reading to Elijah
2626. a fridge full of leftovers
2627. tornado sirens we can easily hear
2628. a basement in which we can take shelter
2629. flashlights
2630. His protection in the storms last night
2631. our power didn't stay out very long
2632. His protection, shelter and refuge in metaphorical storms
2633. His unlimited power
in:
gratitude
Friday, January 20, 2012
Faith, Hope, Love
"So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love" (1 Corinthians 13:13).
Who hasn't heard this familiar verse in this familiar chapter a thousand times? And yet, what does it really mean? What makes love greater than faith or hope? Why would Paul rank them like this?
I hadn't necessarily thought about these questions until my grandmother's funeral, when the officiating pastor referred to Martin Luther's insight on this verse. He pointed out this simple yet profound truth:
Love is the only one of these three that lasts eternally.
In this life on earth we need all three: Faith to be sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. Hope to trust that what we long for will come to pass, that the promises will be kept. Love for the One who first loved us, to enjoy Him and adore Him and exult in Him.
But in the age to come, eternally in Heaven, we will no longer need faith or hope! What we hoped for will be reality. We will see Jesus, not dimly through a mirror, but face to face! Everything we longed for will be fulfilled. All the promises will be proven true! We will love--better and more fully than we ever could here on earth--but we will not have faith or hope. Instead, we will celebrate and bask in the actual presence of the Father in whom we placed our faith, the Savior who was the ground of our hope.
The greatest of these is love.
Who hasn't heard this familiar verse in this familiar chapter a thousand times? And yet, what does it really mean? What makes love greater than faith or hope? Why would Paul rank them like this?
I hadn't necessarily thought about these questions until my grandmother's funeral, when the officiating pastor referred to Martin Luther's insight on this verse. He pointed out this simple yet profound truth:
Love is the only one of these three that lasts eternally.
In this life on earth we need all three: Faith to be sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. Hope to trust that what we long for will come to pass, that the promises will be kept. Love for the One who first loved us, to enjoy Him and adore Him and exult in Him.
But in the age to come, eternally in Heaven, we will no longer need faith or hope! What we hoped for will be reality. We will see Jesus, not dimly through a mirror, but face to face! Everything we longed for will be fulfilled. All the promises will be proven true! We will love--better and more fully than we ever could here on earth--but we will not have faith or hope. Instead, we will celebrate and bask in the actual presence of the Father in whom we placed our faith, the Savior who was the ground of our hope.
The greatest of these is love.
in:
Christianity
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Forever
They say the days are long, but the years are short. I try to cherish this fleeting time while they are small, but as one blogger so eloquently put it, "Carpe diem? I can't even carpe fifteen minutes."
The whining grates. Work and death to self and work and sacrifice and work stretch out in a gloomy, endless prospect before my selfish, lazy heart. I grow weary in the well-doing.
But I am reminded of some truth God graciously spoke to my heart in the last weeks of my pregnancy with Jude, when I was also fearful and weary, when I didn't yet know how that story was going to turn out:
This won't last forever.
The shrieking and lack of verbal skills won't last forever. Sleep deprivation won't last forever. Potty training won't last forever. Nursing pain won't last forever. Dining room table buried under clutter and bathtub you'd be ashamed to let your mother see and kitchen floor you don't even want to calculate how long since it's been mopped won't last forever. Not even having time to shower during the day, let alone string together one coherent thought? That stage won't last forever.
This season of waiting and waiting for that blessing you have longed for your whole life--it won't last forever. Your unemployment won't last forever. Your chronic pain, your tragic marriage, your unbearable grief, your overwhelming struggle with that one besetting sin...none of this will last forever. I can say this with absolute certainty.
If you do not know and love and trust the Lord, far worse things even than these *will* last forever. But if you are in Christ--if your hope is in Him alone--all of the grief and pain in your life, all the things you fear, all the suffering because of others' sins and all the suffering you've inflicted on yourself, it will all pass away. However endless this season seems, it is a season. It will not last forever.
Obvious, I know--yet somehow reassuring. Better yet, to think that while these painful things will definitely come to an end, some things *DO* last forever and ever, without end:
[P.S. - If you skipped over it, I recommend going back and reading that "Don't carpe diem" post I linked at the beginning. It's not just a whiny "motherhood is awful" post--it's a beautiful exhortation to exult in the glory moments of raising children, the sweet spots that make all the work worthwhile.]
The whining grates. Work and death to self and work and sacrifice and work stretch out in a gloomy, endless prospect before my selfish, lazy heart. I grow weary in the well-doing.
But I am reminded of some truth God graciously spoke to my heart in the last weeks of my pregnancy with Jude, when I was also fearful and weary, when I didn't yet know how that story was going to turn out:
This won't last forever.
The shrieking and lack of verbal skills won't last forever. Sleep deprivation won't last forever. Potty training won't last forever. Nursing pain won't last forever. Dining room table buried under clutter and bathtub you'd be ashamed to let your mother see and kitchen floor you don't even want to calculate how long since it's been mopped won't last forever. Not even having time to shower during the day, let alone string together one coherent thought? That stage won't last forever.
This season of waiting and waiting for that blessing you have longed for your whole life--it won't last forever. Your unemployment won't last forever. Your chronic pain, your tragic marriage, your unbearable grief, your overwhelming struggle with that one besetting sin...none of this will last forever. I can say this with absolute certainty.
If you do not know and love and trust the Lord, far worse things even than these *will* last forever. But if you are in Christ--if your hope is in Him alone--all of the grief and pain in your life, all the things you fear, all the suffering because of others' sins and all the suffering you've inflicted on yourself, it will all pass away. However endless this season seems, it is a season. It will not last forever.
Obvious, I know--yet somehow reassuring. Better yet, to think that while these painful things will definitely come to an end, some things *DO* last forever and ever, without end:
"His steadfast love endures forever" (Psalm 136)Today, in this season, I am needing to remind myself of this truth. The struggle with sin, the trial, will not last forever. But my Father's love and mercy and faithfulness will last forever. His Word will last forever. His perfect reign of righteousness and grace and peace will last forever. His Holy Spirit will be with me forever. And I will live forever with Him.
"...Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of His government and of peace there will be no end" (Isaiah 9:6-7)
"the word of our God will stand forever" (Isaiah 40:8)
"My salvation will be forever" (Isaiah 51:6)
"I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever" (John 6:51)
"He will give you another Helper, to be with you forever" (John 14:16)
"The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of His Christ, and He shall reign forever and ever" (Revelation 11:15)
[P.S. - If you skipped over it, I recommend going back and reading that "Don't carpe diem" post I linked at the beginning. It's not just a whiny "motherhood is awful" post--it's a beautiful exhortation to exult in the glory moments of raising children, the sweet spots that make all the work worthwhile.]
Monday, January 16, 2012
Multitude Monday, Take 232
“Joy is always a function of gratitude — and gratitude is always a function of perspective. If we are going to change our lives, what we’re going to have to change is the way we see.” --Ann Voskamp
Thanking God this week for...
2582. chiropractic care
2583. spinach quiche with puff-pastry crust
2584. Jude trying to climb into the bathtub, gleefully pounding the side
2585. early morning quiet time
2586. cell phones when you're lost in the middle of nowhere
2587. the fact that I actually had a signal in the middle of nowhere
2588. a local farm where we can get fresh chicken and pork
2589. the sweet family who runs it and their showing us around to see the animals, including...
2590. a gentle horse
2591. seven nursing piglets climbing all over each other
2592. freedom to be real and raw and vulnerable with dear friends
2593. their hugs, tears, encouragement, prayers
2594. their love even when seeing the ugliness of my heart
2595. the moments God enables me to believe truth
2596. His unfailing love in the face of my unbelief
2597. His grace, sufficient in my weakness
2598. renewed resolve to fight for joy, fight to trust
2599. reading We're Going on a Book Hunt with Elijah and doing the motions
2600. cinnamon dolce latte
2601. Elijah's fast and furious, crazy dancing feet
2602. encouraging emails and a snail-mail card
2603. sausage and white bean soup
2604. getting to sit through all of Sunday school and church, uninterrupted
2605. providing the Savior we need, given that our efforts fall short every time.
Thanking God this week for...
2582. chiropractic care
2583. spinach quiche with puff-pastry crust
2584. Jude trying to climb into the bathtub, gleefully pounding the side
2585. early morning quiet time
2586. cell phones when you're lost in the middle of nowhere
2587. the fact that I actually had a signal in the middle of nowhere
2588. a local farm where we can get fresh chicken and pork
2589. the sweet family who runs it and their showing us around to see the animals, including...
2590. a gentle horse
2591. seven nursing piglets climbing all over each other
2592. freedom to be real and raw and vulnerable with dear friends
2593. their hugs, tears, encouragement, prayers
2594. their love even when seeing the ugliness of my heart
2595. the moments God enables me to believe truth
2596. His unfailing love in the face of my unbelief
2597. His grace, sufficient in my weakness
2598. renewed resolve to fight for joy, fight to trust
2599. reading We're Going on a Book Hunt with Elijah and doing the motions
2600. cinnamon dolce latte
2601. Elijah's fast and furious, crazy dancing feet
2602. encouraging emails and a snail-mail card
2603. sausage and white bean soup
2604. getting to sit through all of Sunday school and church, uninterrupted
2605. providing the Savior we need, given that our efforts fall short every time.
in:
gratitude
Friday, January 13, 2012
New Name, Same Great Taste
So. It's a new year, I turn 30 in a couple of months...I think it's long past time for me to abandon "Lavender *Sparkles*". I've wanted and needed a blog name change for years now, but my terrible-at-titling self was completely at a loss for ideas. For lack of creativity, Lavender *Sparkles* it was, long after I'd outgrown the silly name, despite the fact that it's the blog version of Grape-Nuts.
The name Choosing Hallelujah came to mind several months ago, the last time I was tossing around the possibility of officially changing names. I wasn't 100% sold on it, and I just left it be. But the more I think about it, the more I think it's really appropriate. It captures one of the main themes God has been writing on my heart over the last several years. It really crystallized through my pregnancy with Jude and his birth, as I explained when I wrote about how he got his name (which means "praise," fully "This time I will praise the LORD").
It comes from a song I love--one that was on my birth playlist for Jude, actually. Bethany Dillon's album Imagination includes a lovely song called "Hallelujah." Oh, how this chorus needs to be my theme song:
Choosing Hallelujah summarizes what I am often trying to do in my more thoughtful blog posts: preach truth to myself as I fight for joy. Motherhood has been for me a journey of choosing to trust, choosing to praise. So I think changing the name of my blog will first of all better describe what my blog is about (and be less awkward for people who link to my blog...I imagine my pastor, for example, feels a little weird when he shares an article on Facebook from someplace called "Lavender *Sparkles*"!).
And I think it will be yet another way to preach to myself--a built-in reminder, every time I open Blogger, that this is what I am called to do, this is what I want, this is what God will provide grace for: to choose hallelujah, to say in my weakness, Lord, I trust that You are good. In Your presence there is fullness of JOY. Give me grace to praise You. Or in other words, "Whatever's in front of me, help me to sing hallelujah."
The name Choosing Hallelujah came to mind several months ago, the last time I was tossing around the possibility of officially changing names. I wasn't 100% sold on it, and I just left it be. But the more I think about it, the more I think it's really appropriate. It captures one of the main themes God has been writing on my heart over the last several years. It really crystallized through my pregnancy with Jude and his birth, as I explained when I wrote about how he got his name (which means "praise," fully "This time I will praise the LORD").
It comes from a song I love--one that was on my birth playlist for Jude, actually. Bethany Dillon's album Imagination includes a lovely song called "Hallelujah." Oh, how this chorus needs to be my theme song:
Hallelujah, hallelujah
Whatever's in front of me
Help me to sing hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah
Whatever's in front of me
I'll choose to sing hallelujah
Choosing Hallelujah summarizes what I am often trying to do in my more thoughtful blog posts: preach truth to myself as I fight for joy. Motherhood has been for me a journey of choosing to trust, choosing to praise. So I think changing the name of my blog will first of all better describe what my blog is about (and be less awkward for people who link to my blog...I imagine my pastor, for example, feels a little weird when he shares an article on Facebook from someplace called "Lavender *Sparkles*"!).
And I think it will be yet another way to preach to myself--a built-in reminder, every time I open Blogger, that this is what I am called to do, this is what I want, this is what God will provide grace for: to choose hallelujah, to say in my weakness, Lord, I trust that You are good. In Your presence there is fullness of JOY. Give me grace to praise You. Or in other words, "Whatever's in front of me, help me to sing hallelujah."
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