Showing posts with label Jesus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jesus. Show all posts

Sunday, April 16, 2017

Sunday has arrived, The Tomb is Empty...but I call out for your prayers.

Luke: 24: 6-8
 
This morning didn't start the way I plannedMY plans failed.  My  plans included an early morning at our Church's Sunrise Service followed by what would have been a wonderful time of fellowship and breakfast.  My morning, though, was different.  I failed to set my alarm correctly (I changed the time but not the day!) and we overslept.  We overslept on Easter.  I have to admit I cried when I realized it, as I so wanted to be with our church family. I cried for myself...not because of any other reason. I need my church family, a church family, more than ever. It has been a long while since I have felt I had a church family and I am desperate for that fellowship that is more than just people you sit with on a Sunday Morning. I wanted to stand in unison with fellow believers and celebrate our Jesus.  But, I....overslept; something so simple
 
I can't remember missing an Easter Service in years.  I  can't remember not taking a beautiful family photo of us in our Easter finery and found myself mourning that silly small thing (which felt like a huge, jagged thing)...and then I heard...our Pastor, our faithful friend, who has been such an inspiration and support to my family for as long as we have known him is in surgery this morning. My tears became something different. In one moment God showed me that my plans where just that...mine.
 
Our dear friend has been battling Stage 4 Colon Cancer (and all that entails) for 4+ years.  Today is also his amazing wife's birthday.  They were not at church with their children as usual either....but it wasn't from something silly like oversleeping.  They were not there because they couldn't be there.  They won't have the family pictures in the same way that are typical of this holiday either.  I am not sure what the feelings I am feeling are. Today represents the greatest day in History and I want to celebrate...and my heart is breaking for my friends.  It breaks not just for what they are facing right now but all they have faced so bravely and the amazing family they have become even through the many years of adversity.  They have never given up on God or each other. I am honored to know them and have had their touch upon my life and the lives of my children.  They are an example of strength that surpasses human understanding.  Their family and their marriage is what we all hope for...though the journey they have had to travel is not what they envisioned and none of us would choose to walk. The path they have traveled has been so hard and they have held on....to God and each other.  So, on this  morning of celebration, I ask that you say a prayer for God's miraculous healing upon this man of God and that his beautiful wife will feel peace and have at least a little birthday joy today. The God I love, is great and He hears.


Friday, September 2, 2016

My Jesus.

My walk with my faith has not been a smooth one (are they ever?) but I don't have a deep story to tell you of how He saved me from drug or alcohol addiction.  I don't even have an deep and moving tale of how I was reared in an abusive home and was rescued by His grace.  I just have a plain story.  But, I have come to realize that although my story isn't filled with bells, whistles and colorful lights it is important...at least to me.  I believe it is important to Him as well. 

Growing up I  had  a wonderful Aunt & Uncle who would often take me to church.  I do credit them with leading me to the cross.  I don't think, without their allowing me to tag along, I would have ever come to know a personal relationship with Christ.  Then when I was 16, I met a boy who went to church without his parents and that was truly the beginning of my walk.  As we dated through the years. church was always a part and even when I wasn't walking the walk...I still had that sweet voice in the back of my mind reminding me of what was right and wrong.  Albeit I made many wrong choices...He was always there to remind me and try to keep me on the right path.  I say try because I often wandered.  I wanted my way, my timing, my fun. 

I have failed many times through the years, and continue to fail...but He continues to be there...pulling me up and not letting me go. The past few years have been the hardest and I feel the world telling me it would be easier just to play there.  I have tried to run, to stop this insanity called Christianity, to live in this world, be of this world. I have even turned away and said I don't want to play on this team anymore.  It seems to work for a little while and then I look around and go, "what am I doing this for?" I am afraid a lot.  It makes me question every moment, every decision. It leads me to being paralyzed sometimes and then I have no choice but to say there has to be something more....it is my Jesus. 

So, here I am...again...trying to get it right; continually filled with the gratefulness that He is forgiving and I am trying to hear the voice I have tried so desperately to forget.  Prayers don't come as easy as they once did, but I am re-learning much like a toddler learning to walk. I am once again a baby Christian.  My Jesus, please don't give up on me now.


Saturday, April 19, 2014

Living in a Season of Saturday

Well, I did it.  I walked into a court room...it is done.  I didn't want to be there, but I had to go.  The judge did ask at one point if I was there of my own free will, I paused and it took every bit of strength I had to say, "yes."  My heart, my mind and my soul were screaming "NO!" But, I said yes.  I stood there, tears in my eyes and I said, "yes."

The lines were drawn and the walls built. The battle was lost.  The locks were placed.

So today, when I read the following devotional I knew.  I knew I was standing, smack in the Saturday of my life. "Saturday is the day your dream died. You wake up and you’re still alive. You have to go on, but you don’t know how. Worse, you don’t know why.*"

I am standing right in the middle of a third day story and the hardest part about  third day stories? "The problem with third-day stories is, you don’t know it’s a third-day story until the third day.*" And, somehow at this moment....on a rainy Saturday....the third day seems like it won't ever come. There is probably a big part of my heart that just doesn't even want it to come because it puts me that much further away from what I have lost.   Logic says it will come, good intentioned, wise friends and family assure you it will come but the heart can't hear those words.

I couldn't have written about this Saturday season on my own. so I am sharing the writing of someone else and  hope you will find meaning in this devotional by John Ortberg from his book Who is This Man? (from which the above quotes came):
(link to the original devotional location on Faithgateway)
 
So far as we know, there has only been one day in the last two thousand years when literally not one person in the world believed Jesus was alive. On Saturday morning after Jesus’ crucifixion, the disciples wake after not having slept for two days. The city that was screaming for blood the day before is quiet. Crowds have disbanded. Jesus is dead.

What do they do on Saturday?

It’s strange that the two days on either side of Saturday are so heavily discussed. Some of the brightest minds in the world have devoted themselves primarily to those two days; they have been across the centuries maybe the two most studied days in history. The Bible is full of what happened the day before, the day Jesus was killed. And the next day, Sunday, is the day believers say gave birth to the most death-defying, grave-defeating, fear-destroying, hope-inspiring, transcendent joy in the history of the world. Pentecostals still shout about it. Charismatics still dance because of it. Baptists still say Amen! over it. Presbyterians still study it. Episcopalians still toast it with sherry. Some people think of Sunday in mellower terms, as a metaphor for hope. And others think of it as a dangerous enemy of logic, reason, and mortality.

Let’s just leave Sunday alone for now.

This isn’t Sunday. This isn’t Friday. This is Saturday. The day after this but the day before that. The day after a prayer gets prayed but there is no answer on the way. The day after a soul gets crushed way down but there’s no promise of ever getting up off the mat.

It’s a strange day, this in-between day. In between despair and joy. In between confusion and clarity. In between bad news and good news. In between darkness and light. Even in the Bible – outside of one detail about guards being posted to watch the tomb – we’re told nothing about Saturday. Saturday is the day with no name, the day when nothing happened.

Now only a handful of followers remain. Friday was a nightmare day; Friday was the kind of day that is pure terror, the kind when you run on adrenaline. On Saturday when Jesus’ followers wake up, the terror is past, at least for the moment; the adrenaline is gone.Those who believe in Jesus gather, quietly maybe. They remember. It’s what people do. Things He said. What He taught. Things He did. People He touched or healed. They remember what it felt like when this Jesus wanted them. They remember their hopes and dreams. They were going to change the world.

Now it’s Saturday.

Maybe they talk about what went wrong. What in God’s name happened? None of them wants to say this, but in their hearts, they’re trying to come to grips with this unfathomable thought: Jesus failed. Jesus ended up a failure. Noble attempt, but He couldn’t get enough followers. He couldn’t convince the chief priests. He couldn’t win over Rome to make peace. He couldn’t get enough ordinary people to understand His message. He couldn’t even train His disciples to be courageous at the moment of great crisis.

Everybody knows Saturday.
"Saturday is the day your dream died. You wake up and you’re still alive. You have to go on, but you don’t know how. Worse, you don’t know why."
 This odd day raises a question: Why is there a Saturday? It doesn’t seem to further the story line at all. We might expect that if Jesus was going to be crucified then resurrected, God would just get on with it. It seems strange for God to spread two events over three days.In its own way, perhaps Saturday should mark the world as much as Friday and Sunday.

Friday, Saturday, and Sunday lie at the heart of the ancient calendar. They attributed great significance to the notion that this event was a three-day story. The apostle Paul wrote, “For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, that He was buried, that He was raised on the third day [Paul adds again] according to the Scriptures.” The Old Testament Scriptures are filled with what might be called “third-day stories.” When Abraham is afraid he’s going to have to sacrifice Isaac, he sees the sacrifice that will save his son’s life on the third day. Joseph’s brothers get put in prison, and they’re released on the third day. Israelite spies are told by Rahab to hide from their enemies, and then they’ll be safe on the third day. When Esther hears that her people are going to be slaughtered, she goes away to fast and pray. On the third day, the king receives her favorably. It’s such a recurring pattern that the prophet Hosea says, “Come, let us return to the Lord. He has torn us to pieces… After two days He will revive us; on the third day He will restore us, that we may live in His presence.” All three-day stories share a structure. On the first day there is trouble, and on the third day there is deliverance. On the second day, there is nothing – just the continuation of trouble.

"The problem with third-day stories is, you don’t know it’s a third-day story until the third day."

When it’s Friday, when it’s Saturday, as far as you know, deliverance is never going to come. It may just be a one-day story, and that one day of trouble may last the rest of your life.* * *

I said before that Saturday is the day when nothing happens. That’s not quite right. Silence happens on Saturday. After trouble hits you, after the agony of Friday, you call out to God. “Hear me! Listen to me! Respond to me! Do something! Say something! Rescue!”
Nothing.

"On Saturday, in addition to the pain of Friday, there is the pain of silence and absence of God."

When C. S. Lewis wrote his memoirs about coming to faith in Jesus, he called it Surprised by Joy. The book is about how his love of joy led him to faith in Jesus, and he actually took as the title a phrase in a poem by William Wordsworth. When Lewis wrote the book, he was a fifty-seven-year-old bachelor. He had met a woman named Joy whom, after the book was published, he ended up marrying. His friends enjoyed teasing him that he really had been surprised by Joy. After a lifetime of waiting, Lewis knew love only briefly. Joy died soon after they were married of cancer, a lingering, very painful death. So Lewis wrote another book: A Grief Observed. A Saturday book.

When you are happy, so happy you have no sense of needing God, so happy you are tempted to feel His claims upon you as an interruption, if you remember yourself and turn to Him with gratitude and praise, you will be – or so it feels – welcomed with open arms. But go to Him when your need is desperate, when all other help is vain, and what do you find? A door slammed in your face and a sound of bolting and double bolting on the inside. After that, silence. You may as well turn away. The longer you wait, the more emphatic the silence will become… What can this mean?

"Why is He so present a Commander in our time of prosperity and 
so very absent a help in time of trouble?" 

A husband, a father, wants more than anything in the world to save his marriage. His wife will not listen and will not help. He is not perfect (not by a long shot), but he wants to do a really good thing. He can’t find out why his wife won’t respond to him, and he can’t stand what it’s doing to his children. Heaven is silent.
A mom and a dad find out the child they love has a terminal illness. They pray like crazy but hear only silence. She’s getting worse. You lose a job. You lose a friend. You lose your health. You have a dream for your child. And on Friday, it dies. What do you do on Saturday?

You can choose despair. Paul writes about this: “How can some of you say that there is no resurrection of the dead?” In other words, apparently some people said, “There is never going to be a Sunday. It’s Friday. Get used to it. Do disappointment management, because that’s as good as it’s going to get.” Some people – silently, secretly – live here. You can choose denial – simplistic explanations, impatience, easy answers, artificial pleasantness. Hydroplane over authentic humanity, forced optimism, clichéd formulas, false triumphalism.

Paul wrote to Timothy that some “say that the resurrection has already taken place, and they destroy the faith of some.” In other words, apparently some said, “It’s already Sunday. The resurrection has already happened for all of us, so if you’re having any problems, if you’re still sick, if your prayers aren’t being answered, you just don’t have enough faith. Get with the program.” Or there is this third option:
"You can wait. Work with God even when He feels far away. Rest. Ask. Whine. Complain. Trust."
Oddly, the most common psalm is the psalm of complaint. The Saturday psalm. God, why aren’t you listening?
• • •
An ancient homily spoke of this strange day: What happened today on earth? There is a great silence – a great silence and stillness. A great silence because the king sleeps. God has died in the flesh, and hell trembles with fear. He has gone to search for our first parent as for a lost sheep.
The Apostles’ Creed says Jesus descended into hell.
"Somehow no suffering you go through is suffering Jesus will not endure in order to save you."
From a human standpoint, we think of the miraculous day as Sunday, the day the man Jesus is risen from the dead. I wonder if, from Heaven’s standpoint, the great miracle isn’t on Saturday. When Jesus is born, the skies are filled with the heavenly hosts praising God because that baby is Emmanuel, God with us. Somehow God in a manger, somehow God in a stable, somehow God on earth. Now on Saturday the angels look down and see what? God in a tomb.

"The miracle of Sunday is that a dead man lives. 
The miracle of Saturday is that the eternal Son of God lies dead."

So Jesus Christ defeats our great enemy death not by proclaiming His invincibility over it but by submitting Himself to it. If you can find this Jesus in a grave, if you can find Him in death, if you can find Him in hell, where can you not find Him? Where will He not turn up?
 * * *

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Sunday, April 13, 2014

Psalm Sunday 2014

Image property of FaithGateway
Psalm Sunday is one of those days that I have missed the true significance of  most years, if not always.  I have lots of memories of watching my sweet children parade through our church waving construction paper psalm leaves in symbolism of the day, but I wonder...did I ever stop and think about what that day meant? Did I ever raise up to shout praises to my Savior, even in my heart?

No, I am sure I didn't.  I am sure I sat there with my beautiful family, in my comfy church, looking ahead and listening to beautiful music and a sermon. I may have even made notes in my Bible "to look back at later and meditate on" but probably  I just sat there;  maybe my mind wandered to what we were all going to wear next week on Easter Sunday or even where we were going to eat after church.   My heart didn't hurt for the trials my Savior faced after his "parade."  My heart did not hurt for those pains He faced and accepted for me.  My heart was not humbled by any of it.  I didn't compare the humble entry of Christ on a donkey to the arrival my King should have received.  I didn't humble my heart and life and welcome Him to parade into it with full regalia.  I am hoping today that I can pause, and remember, only through Him do I have eternity and those sweet children who made those construction paper psalm leaves to wave. Today I want to praise Him and shout His arrival.  Only through Him do I have salvation and so much more than I deserve.

The crowds that went ahead of him and those that followed shouted, "Hosanna to the Son of David!" "Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!" "Hosanna in the highest heaven!"
~Matthew 21:9 (NIV)
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Thursday, March 6, 2014

I was five again today...

I was five today, walking up the long walk to a distinguished house that has now been converted into Law offices. This is a house I remember from my childhood that I thought was so beautiful and fancy.  I felt like a child when I pushed open the heavy, glass inlaid door and then sat in the the huge leather chairs that made my feet swing above the floor. Today, I was five again, and I was scared.  I was a little girl about to face the unknown.  To pass the time I admired the gorgeous, antique, cut crystal chandeliers and the architectural gems that the building showcased...but I still felt tiny, small, and alone. But then I remembered...I wasn't alone.  God was there.  Jesus had gone before me.  He had prepared me for just a moment such as this.  He washed me in peace and I didn't cry when it was time to sit across a big table and tell my story to a stranger.  He didn't let me get angry or bitter.  He just held on to me and kept me breathing, even though my feet didn't touch the floor.  It was a horrible day by all accounts but today I didn't not cry so I am counting it in the win category!
For I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, 
Do not fear; I will help you. 
~Isaiah 41:13
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Monday, December 19, 2011

Celebrating the Birth of a Savior!

The shopping is done, the parties from here on out are intimate and special, the stress is lightened...
it is time to truly celebrate the birth of a Savior! 
Yesterday morning my church presented their Annual Christmas Cantata along with a play done by our Children's Ministry.  It was so touching.  As I sat there in the service, I felt as if Christmas had truly descended and it was time to celebrate Jesus' birth.  Something in that sacred place, with the music touching the Heavens and voices of young and old lifted up, brought me the peace and beauty of the season.  It was delightful. 
My sweet baby boy was part of the Children's Ministry production.

I hope you are finding time to truly experience what this season is about,
peace, love, joy and the birth of  a King.

Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion!
Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem!
Behold, your king is coming to you; righteous and having salvation is he,
humble and mounted on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.
Zechariah 9:9


Saturday, April 3, 2010

Easter Frocks....

Do you have your Easter dress yet?  Yeah, I know it is only hours away, but I am running behind this year.  I managed to get my boy's outfits ready last week and DD found and purchased her own Easter dress while at the beach on her Senior Trip last week. 

Me?  Well, I managed to find a cute little dress just this afternoon in about 15 minutes ~ tops...thankfully, it was in my size and I already have the perfect pair of fushia heels to go with it!    If I am lucky I won't sit down in church next to 3 other ladies wearing the same one.


Easter is truly the greatest of holidays!  I am so thankful that Easter happened...He is Risen!!!!