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

Outside Looking In

Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, 

I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.

Revelations 3:20 (NIV)

The castle commands attention. Look at me! Look at me! Look at my beautifully crafted stone walls, my manicured lawn, my geometrically detailed windows! Did you notice the gateway? A turreted, bridged walk spanning the river? Did you notice the docks and the shops? The yachts and the afternoon cruises? The cameras? The tourists? Located in the heart of this 1000 Island Region, almost directly across the water from riverside hotels and motels with the multi-windowed and balconied views. Look at me!

We stayed on the outside - looking in. And the castle - was on the inside, looking out...

Beautiful. Stunning. Breathtaking. And it has a story... a romantic, sad, love story.

 Beginning in 1900, the Boldt family spent summers in the 1000 Islands at the Boldt Families Wellesley House near Mr. Boldt’s Wellesley Island Farms while 300 workers including stonemasons, carpenters, and artists fashioned the six story, 120 room castle, complete with tunnels, a powerhouse, Italian gardens, a drawbridge, alster tower (children’s playhouse) and a dove cote. Not a single detail or expense was spared.

In January 1904, tragedy struck. Boldt telegraphed the island and commanded the workers to immediately “stop all construction.” Louise had died suddenly. A broken hearted Boldt could not imagine his dream castle without his beloved. Boldt never returned to the island, leaving behind the structure as a monument of his love.     

(http://www.boldtcastle.com/visitorinfo/index.php/about/)

Metaphor commands my thinking.

I remember when I was on the outside, looking in at the greatest love story our world has ever known. I remember when I allowed my disbelief to overcome my faith. I remember yearning for the peace of green pastures and still waters. I remember the feelings of not-deserving; confusion and turmoil. I remember thinking the distance too great, and the path too difficult; the water was too deep and too wide.

For 73 years, the castle and various stone structures were left to the mercy of the wind, rain, ice, snow and vandals. When the Thousand Islands Bridge Authority acquired the property in 1977, it was decided that through the use of all net revenues from the castle operation it would be preserved for the enjoyment of future generations.

Imagine 73 years of neglect.  Imagine the damage to the buildings, to the estate, to the island.

Heart Island. Metaphor.

And now imagine the healing, tender care and meticulous attention. Love on Heart Island.

Jesus healed me. He took my brokenness and made me whole. Once upon a time, I stood on the outside of Him, and looked in. And yet, He is always looking out for the lost, lovingly, with great mercy and grace. Yesterday I was reminded of how very far He has brought me.

He can heal you, too.

Linking with Kelly and Jen

You are Here

It's Five-Minute Friday, where I join a community of writers on a one-word prompt. Five minutes. Just five minutes to write, and in that writing, to incorporate the one word. No editing, no rewriting, no going back. The prompt this week is: here.

You are here
Like at the mall
And I'm looking at the shop directory
The map with the yellow star
Just past the Food Court
Fragrance of Cinnabuns
Like fine perfume
I have to find the restroom

You are here
I watch the blue dot
On my phone
Move along a black thread
Untangled from back roads
Hay bundles litter the fields
Furred checkers
On a titan gameboard
Fresh breath of clean

You are here
The U-haul orange
Almost hits the eaves
Ramp clanks
Dolley-wheels squeak
Garage door rumbles open
Empty house
Soon-to-be filled
Smells like emptiness

You are here
My finger points to the number
Chapter and verse
My daughter's bible
On her lap in church
Next to the journal
Where she copies holy words
Of grace and love
I inhale her innocence and
Exhale prayers for her safety

You are here.
On this journey
In this place
Wrapped in His arms
Peace to you

You are here.

Jesus is Here

I can't seem to let it go, this new thing my daughter is telling me. I sit at my computer in the early-before-morning, cup of coffee on the desk beside me. My husband and I share the desk, he checks the weather and wanders through Craigslist; I catch up on emails and facebook. Sierra is usually the last to come down the stairs.

It used to be that she would wrap warm, sleepy arms around me, then move to our favorite Army guy, then to the dog - old dog in his bed - awake but not up. I've said it before - my daughter is an equal-opportunity hugger. It used to be, that after her 'rounds', she made her way to the kitchen to pour herself a cup of coffee, then move the piano bench over to the desk to share our morning with us.

"I am not awake yet," sleepy sounding words, soft voice.

"I not have my coffee yet", true statement of the obvious.

But this last week has been different. Yes, we still get hugs all the way around. Yes, she still gets that precious cup of coffee.

But this last week, the good-morning statements aren't about being awake. They aren't about coffee.

"Jesus is here, Mommy."

My heart jumps. You have to know my daughter. She's not a halfway kind of girl. If she's unsure, or treading those waters of not-knowing, or not-understanding, she ducks her head, avoids eye contact, changes the subject, gives a little, misplaced giggle, or passes the topic off with a 'just kidding' statement. Not today. Not yesterday, nor the day before. Her voice is strong; her words are clear. Her eyes sparkle with life, like bright sunlight on the river.

"Jesus is here."

It's the first thing she tells me, everyday now for a week.

I've asked her about it, about Him. "Where?" I ask.

"In my room." Her smile widens, like a memory. Words still crystal clear.

"In your room?" Her hand pats my shoulder and rubs my back. She must sense my confusion. I am thinking about Jesus. I am thinking that I know He is with us, in our lives; I believe in a personal Savior. I am thinking about Jesus in my life, in my heart. It is the first time I've ever heard my daughter express this kind of relationship with Jesus.

"Is Jesus in your heart?" I am searching her face, her eyes, her smile. I don't fully know what she understands. I think she may know more about Jesus than I ever will while I'm still here on earth. I think, not the first time, that her spiritual connection surpasses express-ability.

She places her hands on her chest, she knows where her heart is - lots of visits to various cardiologists have given her a good sense of this kind of anatomy.

"Yes, Jesus is here; he is in my heart."

Have you ever seen someone transformed by joy? I witnessed my daughter, her face bright, her eyes wide, her smile wide, her hand on her heart, transformed. Jesus does that to people, doesn't He?

There is a growing ministry in many churches and denominations - some call it Disability Ministry - I would prefer a name like Differing Ability Ministry - but, words...right? I suppose I've had a finger on the pulse of this ministry for several years, ever since we became part of a 'Friends Class' and 'Bridge Service' in Virginia, where adults with cognitive disabilities were invited to worship and take a Sunday School class. I helped teach that class for awhile. The hope behind Disability Ministry is to provide a place for adults and children, like my Sierra, to learn about and access all of the things we all want and need to learn and access within a church community: fellowship, missions, scriptural knowledge and insight, corporate praise and worship...

The idea is spreading and there are successes and not-so-successes. In some ways, it is transforming the way churches 'see', and causing them to review and revise some hidden and not-so-hidden policies. Change. No matter who the population, there will be change.

I read something recently, by a guy deep in the process of facilitating positive change for Disability Ministry. In his blog, Disabled Christianity, he wrote about a verse from Matthew that opened my eyes concerning my daughter.

You have been given the chance to understand the secrets of the kingdom of heaven."

Matthew 13:11 (NIV)

Whenever someone has a ready heart for this, the insights and understandings flow freely.

Matthew 13:12 (Message)

If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.

James 1:5 (NIV)

What an exciting opportunity we have. Ask for wisdom. Jesus is here. Seek the kingdom of heaven. Jesus is here. Make your heart ready. Jesus is here.

Amazing.

Linking with RARaLinkup, Unite, Three Word Wednesday, TellHisStory, SDG Sisterhood

Not Perfect for the Worms

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, 

that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.

John 3:16 (KJV)

Yesterday was, in the words of my daughter, a good day. The full moon reflected light across our neighborhood; it was Oh-dark-thirty when we walked down the driveway, across the road, and climbed into the jeep. Sierra, with her backpack slung over her shoulder, tenderly carried our breakfast - two boxes of sugary-pastry snacks, to eat on the trip to the river. Her pack was ready; ipad, a chapter book, a workbook, and a bag full of colored markers. My husband and I both carried bags - lunch, waterbottles, extra jackets, bait, poles...

By the time we arrived at our special fishing spot, the moon was a distant memory and the sky showed promise of beautiful blue.

I sat on the back of the boat, trying to throw my line into precisely the right patch of sunlight and weeds, the perfect place where I knew my fish was lurking. The breeze molded the water into precious waves, breaking on the shore and whispering through the rushes, like an instrumental accompaniment to the singing of each cast and plunk - musical and fulfilling.

It was a perfect time.

I looked around and stretched my arms out wide to my husband, my daughter, and the lake - an all inclusive hug, and I said it out loud. "This is perfect."

Then I spied the bait container. I'll bet it's not perfect for the worms. I know, I couldn't help myself.

So, here's the thing. We live with perspective, we see the world through a particular point of view. Ours. Some of us, at times, try on a different perspective, a different way of seeing, a different point of view. 

I was sitting in church today, listening to the message about John 3:16. God SO loved the world --- he loved ALL of the world, not just our little corner and our little opinions, ALL of his creation. ALL his creatures, ALL of mankind, ALL of US. He still does. He even loves those who don't love him back, those who don't love anyone else, those who don't love themselves. 

Something to think about...

Linking with Janis, and Charlotte