We Need Help

From one of the gates at Boldt Castle - looking out, over the Saint Lawrence....

For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed.

Romans 8:19 (NIV)

Yesterday I described a metaphor, based on an outing taken by my family over the weekend. We were on the river. We docked next to a castle, on an island, originally built as a gift from a loving husband to his wife. When she died mid-construction, it broke the man's heart. It broke his will. He abandoned the castle on Heart Island. The unfinished castle suffered through seven decades of neglect, to the elements, to vandalism, deserted by love.

The metaphor?

My husband, daughter and I didn't pay the admission price to go onto the castle grounds to explore. We were on the outside, looking in. It made me consider my life before Jesus, before belief, before grace. It made me think about being on the outside of Christianity and looking in. We stood at the fence, at the gate, at the door, and on the other side? Jesus. Jesus, the ultimate love story.

But there is another metaphor -- from the inside looking out.

Jesus came in the fullness of time to redeem us for all time. This plan existed from the beginning with the Word of Truth. Our Truth came to earth. A seed - one person in one place. And it grew. And it spread. And it still spreads. At first, because of Roman roads, because of common language, because of the political and military structure of the time, because of the dissatisfaction in false gods. Because it was prophesied. Because our God is a mighty God, sovereign, faithful and just. And because our God is a loving God full of grace and wisdom.

The inside looking out. Imagine God's Kingdom in heaven. A mansion with many rooms, prepared and waiting. Waiting for us - yearning for us, the children of the King, to live, to laugh, to love. Waiting for us -- the inside looking out.

And how do we enter?

Our admission is admission. Our admission is belief. Our admission is prayer.

If you declare with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” 

and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, 

you will be saved. 

For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, 

and it is with your mouth that you profess your faith and are saved.

Romans 10:9-10 (NIV)

It sounds so easy, but sometimes it is the hardest thing. 

Belief that Jesus is Lord means WE aren't Lord.  

It means that we need to give up control.

We need to give up anxiety and worry.

We need to turn fear away.

Jesus can help us.

Admission.

In order to turn fear away, we need to name it, confess it.

Then dismiss it.

Jesus can help us.

We need to set our hearts on His ways - ways of love, forgiveness, compassion, kindness.

Jesus can help us.

In these days of Ferguson and Isis, of Chattanoogas and Charlestons, in these days of entitlement and privilege, of racism and prejudice, of poverty and violence, of fear --- We need to see through His light, what CAN be so that it WILL be.

We need help.

Jesus can help us. 

Linking with Three Word Wednesday, and TellHisStory

Snow - Metaphor

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, 

whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, 

whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. 

Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. 

And the God of peace will be with you.

Philippians 4:8-9

We knew, when my husband accepted this posting, that we might be in for some cold weather and snow.  Yup.  Halfway through February and the snow totals since October have topped the 90inch mark.  Thankfully not all at once, right?  At the same time, we are about to experience daytime high temperatures that won't crack zero.  Yes, negatives will be our highs.  I smile when I hear the newscasters explain the temperature in thermometer degrees and wind chill.  Those negatives we're expecting by this weekend?  Thermometer degrees.  Wind chill will be colder.  Much colder.

So, having set the stage... I just came back in after shoveling.  Again.  We only got a couple of inches of snow overnight, but when the snowplow runs by, it leaves a mound of slushy, icy, snowy mix at the foot of the driveway.  Knowing the cold that's coming, I thought it a good idea to get rid of that mound while the shovel could still get it.  By tomorrow morning it will be solid ice.  And tomorrow my husband gets home from a month-long training exercise, so I want everything to be, you know, perfect.  Perfect is not driving over an ice mogul.

And therein, lies this post.  Imagine.  I am out in the dusk of morning shoveling snow for the umpteenth time this winter.  I know it could be worse.  I could be in Boston where the snow totals for the winter are less, but the amount they're getting each day is catching them up quickly.  I could be in a more urban setting where I have to dig my car out of snow every day.  So I am, first and foremost, thankful.  I am thankful that I have the get-up-and-go to do what needs to be done.  I am thankful for warm clothes and a warm place to go when I'm done.  I am thankful for the beauty of the white blanket.

But it also causes me to think.  Call it cheesy - but I think of this snow and this shoveling as a metaphor for my Christian life.  It is cheesy; in an I'm-laughing-at-myself-come-along-on-the-journey kind of way, but bear with me.  This kind of thinking gets me through my morning chore, maybe it'll get you through something....

First - I feel like I'm shoveling the same stuff over and over.  The snowpiles by the side of the drive, by the sidewalk, by my porch and patio, by the road are getting deep.  I watch a shovel-ful of white tumble and roll from the top and sides of these winter hills.  Right back to the place I need it the least.  Isn't that what happens to us sometimes?  Don't our best intentions, our well-meaning, well-organized, well-laid-out lives sometimes come tumbling down.  Sometimes the disappointment of goals not met snowballs right to our feet.

So, what to do.  I find I have to work a little harder - take the shovel a little further - find a pile a little lower.  See, it doesn't stop me from doing what needs to be done, I just have to take a different way.

When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me.

1 Corinthians 13:11 (NIV)

Here I am, still shoveling, still thinking about this Christian life, and the snow is starting to fall more heavily.  It's covering all of my good work, the driveway is covered with a gauzy film of white.  But, I think, the biggest task is completed.  The good work is at least begun.   I took the snowplow leavings from the end of the driveway and deposited them across the road, on top of the much-lower-than-mine snow banks.  

In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.

Philippians 1:4-6 (NIV)

I really want to feel a sense of accomplishment.  A sense of pride.  So here's the biggest thought I have.  What if the sun came out?  What if it lit up the sky and warmed the air?  What if it came out long enough for some of these snowbanks to melt?  

I have come into the world as a light, 

so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness.

John 12:46 (NIV)

Wouldn't you know, I walked back into the house feeling pretty good about the last hour.  Cheesy as it may seem, I chose joy because I chose him.  You know, I really do try to keep my mind, my thoughts on him.

PS  Ok, so what I forgot to say when I walked back in the house this morning, was that while I was changing out of my shoveling clothes, the snow started coming down in that inch-an-hour-lake-effect way that it can.  By the time my daughter and I left for work, there was another two inches on the driveway and another you-know-what hump at the road.  I have since come home and shoveled again, thinking about this post and my 'lessons' from the snow.  All clear, salted (and oh! that's another thing - kind of like light....get it?  Salt and light?)  AND it's snowing again!  If I didn't know before (and I did, but that's a whole 'nother bunch of stories), I would certainly recognize that God has a GREAT sense of humor!  So, just to make sure it's clear - the 'cheesy' wasn't used in disrespect - it was my weird-sense-of-humor-laughing-at-myself-because-I-keep-seeing-relationship-in-EVERYTHING!  I honestly hope y'all are having fun along with me!

Linking with Lyl on Thought Provoking Thursday

The Many Faces of Snow

I woke to snow falling this morning.  Again.  Flakes were almost indiscernible in the gray before light, calling to mind a mist or fog.  Tiny drops falling fast and straight.  Tiny snow, barely knitting together a blanket to cover the old, ice-capped drifts, the old accumulation.  But as the grayness slid to morning, the snow mist changed.  From fast falling to gentle swirling, from drops to flakes,  And the blanket grew deeper, covering more, softening edges and muffling the world.

Last week, there were domed caps of ice, like skullcaps, on the hills and mounds outside my window.  I have never lived in a place that stays frozen for so long, where the snow doesn’t melt between fallings. 

Yesterday was the coldest day of the year, so far.  New snow had fallen during the darkness of night and in the frigid sunlight, it lay like a diamond veil over the landscape.  An unsullied bride, a sparkling treasure, crisp and white and clean.

Today, more snow.  And wind.  Arctic temperatures, the news reports. 

There is beauty in this landscape.  Harsh and tender.  My thoughts wander from what I see to what is, from literal to figurative.  I don’t love the snow, but I am fascinated by what I learn from it.

Snow covers.  It makes new.  It softens rough edges.  It redeems the brown landscape of winter, it awakens beauty.  I understand this.  Jesus Christ is snow.

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come:

The old has gone, the new is here!

2 Corinthians 5:17 (NIV)

Wind sculpts.  Like a potter with clay.  It drives the snow into drifts, deep places and shelters.  It tears the snow from the ground, leaving ragged scars of dirt and broken grass.  It creates swirled landscapes of ridges and dunes, terrible and beautiful.  I understand this, too.  God is wind.

Yet you, Lord, are our Father.

We are the clay, you are the potter;

we are all the work of your hand.

Isaiah 64:8 (NIV)

I woke to snow falling this morning.  Again.  It is well with my soul.

Linking with Naomi and Kelly, and Jen

Dear God

But I prayed, “Now strengthen my hands.”

Nehemiah 6:9

Dear God,

Thank you for the beautiful sunrise this morning.  The one I wouldn't have seen if I hadn't forgotten that I needed something from my husband.  The one I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't stopped my running on the treadmill; if I hadn't gotten in the car and driven east to the freeway.  East, God.  You knew I'd be driving east.  It was a late sunrise.  The sky was already tinged in blue.  But the clouds, God, you did a really nice job with the clouds this morning.  There weren't very many and they weren't very big.  But they were perfect.  Perfectly white in the middle with hints of orange and pink toward the edges.  And those edges shimmered with light like neon halos of gold.  Oh, I don't know about neon halos, but they were bright.  And beautiful.  And like I said, perfect.

Like you, God.  You must have known that I needed to see the sunrise this morning.  You must have known that I was feeling a little bit like the night.  A little bit on the underexposed side - you must have known I needed to see your light early.  Because that's how you are, isn't it?  You give us just what we need, right when we need it.  

Yesterday, you did the same thing with the message at church.  About the prayer of Nehemiah.  Not the long prayer in the first chapter - but the little plea for help in the sixth.  It was a simple prayer.  Thank you for showing me that simple is ok, too.  Sometimes it's the best thing, right?  Too many words can muddle up the message.  

I liked the message yesterday - strengthen my hands.  Because Nehemiah was literally re-building the wall of Jerusalem.  The success of his mission depended on the literal strength of his hands.  But, God, you are a master of stories and stories within stories.  Did you also mean for the walls to stand for something else?  A metaphor, maybe?  Like building a life for you?  Because Nehemiah did that, too.  He brought a whole bunch of those Israelites back to you.  He brought back the holy in the city.  I bet you strengthened Nehemiah's metaphor-hands as well, didn't you?  You strengthened him within your own will, didn't you?  You strengthened his leadership, his peace, his generosity, his service.  Because he and his workers were successful in a ridiculously short amount of time.  That wall was finished in 52 days.  That's less than two months.  Amazing.  

God, strengthen my hands.  You have something in store for me to do - something wonderful!  Help me to not be so busy on the treadmill of my life, that I miss it.  Help me to see it clearly - like your sunset this morning.  Help me to embrace this new opportunity.  Help me to build my life in you.  Strengthen my hands.  Strengthen my heart.  Strengthen my faith.   Thank you, Amazing God!

Linking With:

Monday's Musings
Playdates at the Wellspring
Sharing His Beauty
Hear It On Sunday