Finding the Joy

A note about the picture:

Sometimes, what I catch through the lens becomes an entirely different picture after I take it home to my computer. I crop. Sometimes I crop away. Sometimes I crop toward. Either way, the final picture is the result of a hunt for the best composition. I think, a lot of times, we find joy by looking for the best composition in our circumstances. We can frame it and crop toward it, or we can frame it and crop the extraneous distractions away.

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. 

Philippians 4:8 (NIV)

"Tomorrow, I eat my breakfast slowly."

The refrigerator door is open, my eyes focused on the makings of my own breakfast. I only half hear her. Some people need coffee to wake up; I need food in my tummy to take myself off of autopilot. But something about this sentence stalls me out, stops my hunt for the cream cheese container, and has me look at her.

Autopilot means I haven't noticed that my daughter is standing at the counter eating her banana, instead of sitting at the table. Autopilot means I haven't noticed the 'work' bag on the counter next to her, flaps open, purse inside. Autopilot means I haven't noticed she has already changed out of her exercise clothes and into an 'outfit', ready to return to her volunteer position at the Army Community Services center on post.

I know she's excited. We've spent the last three weeks as a family, my husband on leave, boating, fishing, enjoying the crisp weather and blue skies. She has started telling me it is time to go back to work. She has started telling me she will see her friends. She has started telling me she is hard work (yes, exactly in that way...) But what stops my pre-breakfast autopilot is the -ly in the word slowly.

Yes, it's a really little thing. Two letters, to be exact. At the end of a 6-word sentence. But for me, it is huge.

See, my daughter has Down syndrome. Those little morphemes, those little one-, two-, and three-letter word attachments, those little bits of meaning, have been agonizingly slow to show up in her vocabulary. Sierra, my daughter, is very concrete. Very in the here and now. Very visual. So it's not surprising to understand why this part of her language skill lags. Those bits of meaning add abstract information. The -ed shows past tense. The -er shows someone who. The -s shows plural, or possession. For most of us, these little bits get added way back in our toddler and primary years. For Sierra, it's an ongoing process.

And now the -ly. It tells how.

So, I'm standing in the kitchen with my mouth open, just like the refrigerator door. And I'm celebrating my daughter's language. She just turned 24 - and the language keeps coming. Nice, right?

Jennifer Dukes Lee found a barn painted with a sign "Praise God." She interviewed the veterinarian who had the sign done.

He said the two words, “Praise God,” seemed like the best ones to hang over a farm … and over a whole life.

You can read the rest of her post here. It's worth the read.

Today, I'm joining the #TellHisStory Community, and ThreeWordWednesday with a simple praise of my own. I praise God for steadfastly walking beside my daughter and me, in all things, even something as little as an 'ly.

Saturday Stillness: Spring Up

Sharing with the community at Saturday Stillness

It is God

But I, God, search the heart and examine the mind. I get to the heart of the human. 

I get to the root of things. I treat them as they really are, not as they pretend to be.

Jeremiah 17:10 (Message)

We are standing together, shoulder to shoulder with friends and strangers.  The lights are low.  I see people in silhouette, arms raised to the ceiling, faces upturned.  Like black cutouts against a luminous stage, I see their bodies sway in time to the music.  The music is what we came for, my daughter and I.  Just the girls.  A Christian concert at a local church.  Some friends invited us.

My daughter.  I glance sideways to see how she’s doing, to see how she is navigating this sea of emotion, to see if her head is above the spiritual waters.  This image is frozen like a snapshot on my brain.  Eyes closed, face tilted in the dark slightly raised hands in front, palms up to receive.  I think about her.  This daughter.  This blessing.  I wonder if she understands that this is worship.  This is praise.  I wonder if she is copying the hands of others.  She is, after all, a concrete girl and this… this is an ocean of abstract.

“Sierra,” I bend down and whisper, “what are you doing with your hands?”

She opens her eyes and I think I can see straight into her soul.  I don’t remember these depths, these layers.  I think I don’t know this girl.  I see complication, and understanding, and compassion.  I see abstract.  I see clear eyes full of wisdom.  I see an old soul in my daughter with Down Syndrome.

“It is God, Mommy,” and she raises her hands higher for me to see.

Oh God of the Universe, Help us to open our hands and our hearts to receive you.

Help us to be your hands in this broken world.

Linking With:  #TellHisStory, Three Word Wednesday, Unforced Rhythms

For All Nations

These I will bring to my holy mountain and give them joy in my house of prayer. 

Their burnt offerings and sacrifices will be accepted on my altar; 

for my house will be called a house of prayer for all nations."

Isaiah 56:7

It was a vision.  Clear.  Vivid.  A vision.

Liat felt the press of bodies; her feet had been stepped on more times than she could count and the dust from the road was coating her throat, dry and persistent, like a waterless tide.  Relentlessly, the crowd moved forward toward the door - entry to the temple.  The temple of God, the One, the Holy.  She held her scarf in her left hand, reaching up with her right to touch the stone wall.  

The Lord our God, the Lord is One

Yes, she had been born into the right family.  The right clan.  The right people.  The chosen ones. Yes.  Even her name you are mine proclaimed who she belonged to.  Who she was.

She felt the breath being squeezed from her slight frame as she squirmed her way through the threshold.  It was her first time, and she was determined to stand in the courtyard of love and prayer - determined to demonstrate her devotion, to prove herself worthy, to make her insignificant presence known to this mighty God.  

The air was thick with smoke and noise.  The air inside this gateway.  The stink of the bodies assaulted her nostrils.  She pulled the veil across her face so that her eyes only, wide and staring, were visible.  This was not what she had expected - this noise, this filth, this sea of humanity.  She was about to enter the courtyard of the presence of God; she had done everything correctly; she had been taught correctly; she had earned this right, this passage.

She was proud of her heritage, her family, her people.  Proud of the traditions laid down by the prophets of old.  Proud of the books of rules and law.

Proud of being different than the other tribes - the unknowing - the unchosen - the others.

She sensed, rather than felt at first, the thinning of the crowd.  The air cleared as the stone walls widened.  Stepping away from the tunnel, Liat allowed her veil to fall.

This too, was unexpected.

The Lord our God, the Lord is One 

Gone was the noise from the entry - the narrow door - the temple gate.  Gone.  The pushing and pressing.  Gone.  The dust, the smoke, the fetid odor.  Gone.

Liat stood in an open courtyard and her heart skipped a beat.  Before her - a radiant structure, focal point to countless people - all colors - all races - chosen and unchosen - they streamed around and through the steps and columns, around and through the wide rectangular doors.  Not crowded.  Not noisy.  Reverent.  Prayerful.  Raising their voices in praise.

Awestruck, she looked back toward the tunnel.  One by one, men and women were stepping out from the tunnel - the narrow, confining passageway of rock and dust.  Children spilled out from the crowd behind.  Some stumbling, some releasing hands on veils as she had.  All looking around with wide stares and open jaws.

In the next heartbeat she recalled the prophecy of the man, Isaiah...And it will be called a house of prayer for all nations.  She could see them - all nations - coming into this place, this holy place of prayer and worship.  She saw other narrow tunnels leaking with strangers, dark and light, in exotic costumes of unusual texture and detail.  She saw caravans picking their way across wide, open fields.  She saw wide roads and tree-lined drives.  All leading here.  To this place.

Unexpected and surprisingly wonderful.  Children of the One God.



I have been reading about division.  Not the math kind.  Division of ideas, division of beliefs, division of cultures, division of religious.  I see it on the news everyday.  Political division.  Even bands of weather and storms.  Boundaries.  Fences.  Locks.

I think about my last job.  The one I resigned from - the class I couldn't teach.  And what divided us.

I think about Christ.  And God.  New and Old Testaments.  Legality and Grace.  I think about differences and the lines drawn to separate, to categorize, to confine.

And I come back to this passage in Isaiah.  Put into the eyes of the vision of a woman who traveled a narrow road to reach a destination she really wasn't prepared for.  Kind of like that narrow road of law.  Kind of like that narrow road of right choices.  Kind of like that narrow road of not-good-enough.  Kind of like that narrow road of you-have-to-do-things-my-way.  Surprised by the others who also arrived through different paths.  Leading to a destination not earned.  I think about our Pastor who invites everyone to the Communion Table - to a destination freely given to all who seek it.  God's house.  A house of prayer for all nations.

Today I struggle with division.  With redemption.  With grace.  Today I am filled with joy at the thought of a house of prayer for all nations.  Undeserved yet freely given.  Unexpected and surprisingly wonderful.  We are His Children.

Thank you, God.  Thank you for your Son.  Thank you for Jesus. 

Linking with TellHisStory
Imperfect Prose
Three Word Wednesday

Extravagant Rampant Praise

Praise the LORD, everything he has created, everything in all his kingdom. 

Let all that I am praise the LORD.

Psalm 103:22

What if we were surrounded by praise.  All the time.  From every little no-see-um nano-quark, to every atom of every molecule.  And what if the praise came in every form imaginable - and unimaginable.  What if it came through the medium of any or all of our senses - sound, sight, smell, touch, and taste.  Praise for our God - Creator of the Universe and all that's in it.

All.  Not just the little bit that we recognize.

All.  Not the little bit more that we theorize.

All.

Imagine the universe overflowing with praise.  Extravagant, bursting, rampant praise.

What if the rivers of our lives, our timelines with drama unfolding at every bend and turn, at every turbulent set of rapids or waterfall, and in every shallow pool and glassy meander, what if they are really silvery threads woven into a tapestry of praise.  What if the seasons are praise-threads of time - autumn colored, and green and white.  What if change itself is a form of praise to the God and Maker of all change?

We were made to praise God - created for His Glory.  What if everything was made to praise God. What if we were just a small part of a community of praise?  A tiny percentage.  Our infinitesimal particles of praise part of a universe community.

What if our own fellowship, our relationship with one another was its own form of praise?  Would it change our actions?  Would it change our words?  Would it change our world?

Wouldn't our lives become holy - because we would be making a gift of them to God.  Our lives lived in praise of Him?  He is awesome.  He is just.  He is loving.  He is jealous.  He is wise.  He is gracious and forgiving.  He is all-knowing and all-powerful.  Comforter.  Healer.  Provider.  Redeemer.  The First and the Last.  The Three-in-One.  HE IS.

And He lives in our praise.  But you are holy, O you that inhabit the praises of Israel.  IN IT!  Imagine that.  And he IS our praise.  He is your praise and He is your God.  Love Him, cherish Him, pursue Him with praise.

Not just when you're happy.  Not just when you need Him.  Not as a trade for a favor.  Not just because you're in the mood.  Not just when the program says so.  Not just when the right hymn plays. With every breath a praise.

Imagine yourself - in cahoots with the universe - overflowing with praise.  Extravagant, bursting, rampant praise.

Holy, holy, holy

is the Lord God Almighty,

who was, and is, and is to come.

You are worthy, our Lord and God,

to receive glory and honor and power,

for you created all things,

and by your will they were created

and have their being.

Revelation 4:8, 4:11

Linking with:
Women Helping Women
Titus 2sdays
Titus 2 Tuesday

Sing Praise

My sister's picture - beautiful...
I had some fun with this - read the blue, read it all... Enjoy!

Father in Heaven, thank you for this day.  Thank you.

Linked with

Scripture & a Snapshot

Universe Fellowship

This is a picture of one of the sculptures designed, and created by the youth from Bob's Diner.  You can read about this unique youth group by clicking on this link.

.

When the morning stars sang together 

all the sons of God shouted for joy...

Job 38: 7

Fortunately for me, I get to accompany my daughter to her youth group meetings.  She started attending  when we lived in Texas.  Fort Hood has an amazing, active group of up to 100 middle and high school youth, who attend Wednesday night meetings each week.  They call it Bob's Diner.  It is a different kind of community in that it's military - people come and go.  In fact, the leaders make it a point to let the kids know that they are always in transition.  At any time, about one-third of the youth are getting ready to PCS (the military member is making a Permanent Change in Station) away from Fort Hood , have recently PCS'd to Fort Hood, or are actually holding steady.  The kids were really good at welcoming new faces, at fellowshipping, and accepting one another.  They were wonderful with my daughter.  

Imagine being the leader of a group this size and this fluid.  Imagine trying to channel all of that energy, and youthful creativity, and curiosity, and impulse...  The couple in charge did (and continue to do) a great job!  First, they truly love the kids - each and every one of them.  They share their gifts with the youth - he, as an artist (kids from Bob's Diner made the statue in the picture under his direction), and she - as a musician.  She leads a Bob's Diner praise band composed of some very talented kids... They share their passion for Jesus.  

So, this morning, I was thinking of God's speech in Job - the poetry and majesty of Chapter 38.  You can read it here.  And when I came to the verse about the morning stars singing - I thought about a video played for us one Bob's Diner night.  It combines all of the gifts and passion of the youth leaders in a format that held all of our attention that night:   How Great is Our God!!!

Here's the thing.  I love how there's someone out there - Giglio who pulls the technology of YouTube and SETI and even an ipad mashup app, with praise and worship, together to present to someone like the youth leaders at Bob's Diner.  I love how the leaders at Bob's present this to us; kids and parents who live in transition.  I love how it combines science and the Bible.  In relationship.  Everything falls together, works together.  Kind of like fellowship.  Yeah, universe fellowship.  I like that.

God of the Heavens, thank you for praise and fellowship:  in art, in music, in groups like Bob's Diner.  Continue to guide and bless your messengers and leaders.

#TellHisStory: Letter to a Friend

I can't get you out of my mind.  About a week ago, I happened on a comment you made on Facebook, a comment about having a different-than-Christian point of view because you are an agnostic.  The word brought up memories of a time when I said the same thing.  You want to hear something funny, though.... I actually looked the word up again, yesterday, just to make sure that what you said and what I was thinking were one and the same.  And once I read the definition, I knew we were.  Because I see the searching in you.  I see the logical thinking, the fascination with science fiction, the taking reality one step further into an infinite universe of possibilities.  Agnostic: a person who holds the view that any ultimate reality (as God) is unknown and probably unknowable...

I remember days of being open-minded.  If God exists and truly created the universe, then earth and mankind would be so small and insignificant as to be completely unnoticed - I believe I compared us to a drop from a sneeze...  Thou shalt have no other gods before Me - meant God was not alone.  If there was more than one god, then the whole premise of Judeo-Christian belief fell apart.  When a group of Jehovah's Witnesses came by, I asked them what made their beliefs different.  They said they believed that Jesus was on the throne in heaven.  My response to them was "Why? Is God dead?"   Open minded, right?  I loved Bible stories, but I didn't believe they really happened.  I believed just as equally in the possibility of fairies.  There seemed to be enough evidence that Jesus had actually lived, that he had been an amazing teacher of moral good, and that he'd had a huge following in his day, but Messiah?  Savior?  God?  No.

I wasn't in love with religion.  History had shown me that evil had been done in the name of God.  The Old Testament showed me a jealous God, an extreme justice, eye-for-an-eye God, a God of thunder, fire, and storm.  I was pretty sure that I didn't want to be a part of religion.

But, I also remember feeling left out.  Good people tried to do right, they cared about others, they gave to social causes.  That was me.   I tried.  I cared.  I gave.  I didn't say mean or ugly things.  I wasn't a monster.  But I wasn't a Christian.  People around me were Christians.  They said things like Have a blessed day.  They held prayer meetings.  They listened to praise music.  They talked about grace and forgiveness.    I wanted to join their faith club, but I couldn't.  My intellect wouldn't allow it.  I would have to believe in something that I couldn't prove.  I would have to talk to someone I couldn't see.  My integrity wouldn't allow me to fake it - I couldn't just pretend to go along with the group.  Not that group.

Faith was the answer, I decided.  Faith is that ability to do those things that I was rebelling against... to believe in the unprovable, to speak to the invisible.  So I asked a friend about faith.  "Faith is a gift from God," she said.   Back to the drawing board for me, then.  It hurt to think that this God of hers would choose to give her a gift and not me.  Tears.

Well, I couldn't very well call myself open-minded if I chose not to listen to the side I'd been fighting against. The side that had caused me to feel unwanted and unloved.  Another friend suggested a program at her church and I convinced my husband to attend with me.  It was called the Alpha program, and it changed my life.

Classes met every week; I ended up going to every single one.  See, the people who wrote the program knew me.  They knew my arguments.  I was an agnostic - I could argue either way about the existence of God.  I was open minded.  Jesus, a good teacher, had existed.  And that's where they started - with Jesus, not God.  The mind-blower for me was this quote from C.S. Lewis:

A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher.  He would either be a lunatic, on a level with the man who says he is a poached egg, or else he would be the Devil of Hell.  You must make your choice.  Either this man was, and is, the Son of God; or else a madman or something worse - but let us not come up with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher.  He has not left that open to us.  He did not intend to.

We are faced then with the frightening alternative.  The man we are talking about was (and is) just what he said or else a lunatic or something worse.  Now it seems to me obvious that he was neither a lunatic nor a fiend; and consequently, however strange or terrifying or unlikely it may seem.  I have to accept the view that he was and is God.  God has landed on this enemy-occupied world in human form.  

Mind blower?  For me, it was.  Because this statement put the missing piece of my illogic into place, turned it around, and made me believe - not only in the divinity of Jesus, but in the existence of God.  In logic, you know the outcome once A equals B, and B equals C....  So, yes, I went to every single class in the program - sometimes kicking and screaming, because I have to tell you, being a member of the faith club is not without work and expectations.  That gift from God?  Faith is given because we ask Him for it.  Simple as that.  Jesus?  He is waiting for us to ask Him into our heart.  Simple.

Here's the thing.  I know that we - you and I - don't really know each other that well.  We worked together - we talked a little.  I keep thinking about that saying from school - that thing we talk about when we analyze good teachers.  They won't care how much you know until they know how much you care.  I care about you!  I care that you are honest, and logical, and searching.  I care that you probably feel left out sometimes.  I care that you're trying to do this thing - this living right - all by yourself.  It breaks my heart to think of you without God.  Without Jesus.  Without the Holy Spirit.  The most amazing thing that I found in my journey back to God, is that He really never left me.  He hasn't left you either.  He loves you more than you will ever understand, and that's ok.  Sometimes you have to let go of that control and intellect and just know that All things are possible with God.  It's Theology 101 - He is God and we're not.  Period.

Please let me know how you're doing.  If all of this is just too much, it's ok - I still care and want the best for you.  Of course I'll joyfully share anything and everything else I've found on this journey - it's been quite a ride so far, and I'm looking forward to SO MUCH MORE!!

Love,

Janet

Just a note - I did actually write this letter to a friend, for all the reasons stated.  It was a first for me - I don't know exactly how I would have taken receiving a letter like this during my years as an agnostic.  But I just couldn't stop thinking about how grateful I am for God's grace, and how very different my life has been since I invited Christ in.  I was lost and now I'm found.  Admittedly,  life here on earth isn't always happily-ever-after  rosy, and I'd be lying if I said it was.  But having Jesus makes all the difference.  He truly strengthens and comforts.  I know that I am a child of God.  I know that I am loved and forgiven (!)  My redeemer lives!  

So,  I thought maybe someone else might be feeling lost...someone else might chance on this blog - might be lead to read this post... and maybe this personal letter would lead them to search - as I did.  I pray that if it's you, that God puts the right people in your life to help you, to teach you, to show you.

But if from there you seek the LORD your God, you will find him if you seek him with all your heart and with all your soul.

Deuteronomy 4:29

Another post from the archives - until I can get to writing again - which I sorely miss! Linking with Jennifer, Emily and Jen.

TellHisStory
Imperfect Prose

Unite

Music of the Spheres

My heart, O God, is steadfast,

my heart is steadfast;

I will sing and make music.

Awake, my soul!

Awake, harp and lyre!

I will awaken the dawn.

Psalm 57:7-8

Music fills me. It is in my head from the time I wake up until I go to bed at night. I think I'll have to blame my mother. She has a song for everything - for every occasion, for any circumstance. I remember a trip our family took, one year, from Arizona to the midwest, to the East Coast and back. I think my mom sang the whole way - and never repeated a song. She learned to play the guitar when we were growing up. That guitar and singing around the fire are the basis of my favorite memories from camping - with just our family and with others. Visits to my mother's family always included pulling out the guitars and singing. I have some very talented relatives. I remember doing dishes with my sisters and playing a game. One of us would start a song, the game was to interrupt with a different song - if you repeated, you lost. Yes, it got a little noisy in our kitchen...

As we grew older, my sisters and I sang in choruses and choirs. We sang in church. We took piano and played and sang. Music filled our home.

Yesterday, I was struck by a section from the book Tuck Everlasting. The plot involves a choice - to drink or not to drink from a fountain of youth. The writing is excellent - luxurious even - full of the kind of figurative language a reader can really savor. There's a section where one of the characters is trying to explain why everlasting life would not be a blessing. It's that circle of life speech, but done in pieces. It creeps up on the reader. The final realization that death is part of life comes to the main character, a young girl, through the wise words of Tuck:

Your time's not now. But dying's part of the wheel, right there next to being born You can't pick out the pieces you like and leave the rest. Being part of the whole thing, that's the blessing. But it's passing us by, us Tucks. Living's heavy work, but off to one side, the way we are, it's useless, too. It don't make sense. If I knowed how to climb back on the wheel, I'd do it in a minute. You can't have living without dying....I want to grow again...and change.                           

Natalie Babbitt, Tuck Everlasting

Bear with me.  So, the passage had me thinking... as Christians, we look forward to our heavenly life.  To life everlasting.  It made me wonder what heaven is going to actually be.  I mean, we've all heard the Bible stories - we will be made new, heavenly kingdom, hosts of angels, life everlasting - There it is again - the theme of the book, the theme of the bible... so I had to do some research.

I found an excellent article in "Christianity Today";  Peter Kreeft, a professor of philosophy at Boston University answered 35 of the most frequently asked questions about heaven.  You can read it here.  Yup, I read the whole thing.  I'll probably read it again - it's a lot to take in with one reading.  But here's what I found;  we won't be bored.  Unlike Tuck, we will be changing, growing for eternity, learning about God and one another in order to love more perfectly.  AND - there will be music!  I love this next quote - imagine the prose, poetry, and music of heaven if what we know in this world already moves us through the spectrum of human emotion...

Music, according to widespread tradition, was the first language, the language God spoke to create the universe. I strongly suspect there is more to this than we think. We usually think of music as ornamented poetry and of poetry as ornamented prose. But God is not prosaic. I think prose is fallen poetry and poetry fallen music. In the beginning was the "music of the spheres," and so it will be in the end.                

Peter Kreeft

Thank you, God, for music, for family, and for the promise of a heaven filled with both.