Evangelion: A Meditation for Advent

A Peruvian Nativity

Come.
Please God, come to us.
We are enslaved in darkness, full of mourning in a world that suffers. We are helpless captives until you come to save us.

"Those who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined." Isaiah 9:2

Little village of Bethlehem, while you sleep under a starry sky, a light shines into your darkness and the darkness cannot overcome it. In you, Bethlehem, the hope and fear of every century meet tonight.

This starry night is set apart from every other, for this is the night when God comes to save us. Long has this world yearned for an end to our dark estrangement, and now He appears, born to rescue us.
Suddenly Lord, we understand how deeply you value us.

"For to us a child is born, to us a son is given..." Isaiah 9:6

We are filled with hope, and even the rocks cry out in thanksgiving. A new, glorious day is dawning and the world will never be the same.  Fall on your knees and worship with the angels, for this is a Holy night! This is the night when your Savior is born.

Who is this child, lying asleep in Mary's lap? Angels have burst open the sky to usher you in, telling lowly shepherds to guard you. Why are you born in such a humble place, where cattle come to feed? You have emptied yourself totally, positioning yourself on the bottom so that you may lift every soul.

"He had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him." Isaiah 53:2

Listen! The silent Word is pleading for us to come to Him. He will be pierced by nails and spear. His blood will be shed so that we may live. Worship the Word made flesh, this baby born to Mary.

"Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken by God and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed." Isaiah 53: 4-5

Your body is laid in a dark tomb, the Light of the world slain by darkness. But death cannot hold you, and bursting forth on Glory day, you defeat the grave to set us free. In your victory, sin has lost it's grip on us, for you have bought us with your blood.

"When his soul makes an offering for guilt, he shall see his offspring; he shall prolong his days; the will of the Lord shall prosper in his hand. Out of the anguish of his soul, he shall see light and be satisfied; by his knowledge shall the righteous one, my servant, make many to be accounted righteous, and he shall bear their iniquities." Isaiah 53: 10-11

In truth, You teach us to love one another. Your law is love and your message is peace. You will break every chain and set the captives free. Where You are lifted up in spirit and in truth, all oppression must end.

"The government will be upon his shoulder,  and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end, on the throne of David and over his kingdom, to establish and uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time forth and forevermore. The zeal of the LORD of hosts will do this!" Isaiah 9:4-7

Let us raise our voices to sing for joy. Let us praise his name with all our hearts. Christ is the Lord! Proclaim his power and glory forevermore!
Where humble hearts receive him, He will still enter in. O come, let us adore Him!

"But to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God." John 1:12-13

"In the world you will have trouble. But take heart; I have overcome the world." John 16:33

O Holy Night. 

This night changes everything.

 Evangelion.

(the good news)

Based on: "O Come, O Come Emmanuel"

"O Little Town of Bethlehem"

"O Holy Night"

"What Child is This?"

"In Christ Alone"

"O Come, All Ye Faithful"

Unlikely Disciples

Last sunday, I watched a "60 Minutes" interview of the estranged Madoff family. At one point, the interviewer wonders aloud, did Bernie 'go bad'? When did honest business become corruption?

Rarely does a person begin with crime in mind. It usually starts with a subtle shift. A suggestion is made, a step off the path is taken. The slope down appears minor, even if covered with loose gravel. After a short time, he is slipping farther and faster, no longer in control of his world, unable to get out. He's trapped in a hell of his own devising. It has gotten too big to manage. It now manages him.

I think sin is always this way: cumulative, self-inflicted, destructive and enslaving. One sin always seems to lead to another, more extreme sin. Deceit demands greater deceit. Addiction requires more drug to appease. Unforgiveness eats our hearts to hollowness. Concern for one wrinkle grows into costly surgery. Sin always asks for more, then demands more, and then takes more.

But there is no excuse for it. Every instance of sin is chosen. It's an act of will. Madoff chose to do this thing. He bought in to the lie. (Every sin begins with a lie, usually along these lines: 'this sin will bring  satisfaction or fulfillment'. I can't think of an instance where this is not the case.) He deserves what he is getting, maybe worse.

Here's a crazy thing, though. I think that if Jesus met Bernie Madoff, he would ask him to be a disciple. I know, outrageous. But let me tell you about another man.

His name is Levi and he lived in the land of Judah during Roman occupation. Levi decides to be a tax collector for the Romans, a move that automatically makes him a traitor to his own, beleaguered people. Why does he do it? Perhaps it's the lure of financial security.

At first, he just does his job collecting tax, but then it's so easy to take just a little more. His conscience bothers him, but he explains it away. Such a small amount, really nothing to be upset about. Yet with every tax, he demands a little more.

And every time something in him says it's not right, but the thrill of the take, the lure of extra cash keeps him coming back to it again. By the time Jesus comes around, Levi is a full-fledged tax-collector, very wealthy, very trapped, and hated by his countrymen. He is a thief. A traitorous crook. Everyone knows and despises him.
And then he has this encounter with Jesus:

  After this he went out and saw a tax collector named Levi, sitting at the tax booth. And he said to him, "Follow me." And leaving everything, he rose and followed him.

 And Levi made him a great feast in his house, and there was a large company of tax collectors and others reclining at table with them. And the Pharisees and their scribes grumbled at his disciples, saying, "Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?" And Jesus answered them, "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick.  I have not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance." Luke 5:27-32

I think Levi was desperate to get out of his self-created hell. When Jesus comes to him, Levi walks off the job, 'leaving everything.' He throws Jesus a huge party and invites the other desperate ones so that they too can experience freedom from their wretchedness. I think the sweetest part of this story is that Jesus approaches Levi while he is in the act of swindling. Jesus comes right up to the tax booth. 

Of course the key to Levi's freedom is in the last word of the verses. Repentance is at the root of becoming a follower of Jesus. It's a new path which involves restitution, sacrifice and amends. But it's also a path of forgiveness and freedom. And I think that Jesus would ask the same thing of Bernie Madoff, offer the same forgiveness and freedom. 

We know Levi by another name: Matthew, the author of the first gospel in the New Testament. He really did leave everything and follow Jesus. It is said that he died, possibly a martyr, in Ethiopia, as a very different, beloved church father.

It's that crazy thing called GRACE at work again.

The Most Beautiful Time

City Park at Sunset,
taken by Mallory Moran

There is a certain angle of the sun which vividly reveals the splendor of the world to me. As the sun sets, the richness of color and shadow and painted sky transform everything around me. (I suppose it happens in the morning too, but I'm rarely awake to enjoy it.)

The world is washed with a light that is more golden than white. Even the factory and refinery near our home become beautiful at this time of day.  I absolutely love it.

There are times when I have been stalled in traffic, irritable and tired, and then I see the light spreading across the buildings, or dappling the ground under a boulevard of trees. Something in me lightens too, and I am filled with appreciation.

Last evening, I walked down a busy street, strewn with trash and speeding cars, and the light lifted my head to see an amazing sky set off by the autumn leaves. It made me smile involuntarily. So very beautiful. It is my favorite time of day.

It never gets old.  I've come to realize that this appreciation is directed at God, who makes such beautiful moments. It is worship-- a response to yet another of the good and perfect gifts that he lavishes on me.

It's pretty amazing when I think about it. Here I am, head down, rushing someplace or doing something, and then he opens my eyes to see this beauty around me. He breaks into my rapid thoughts and pace and gives me the gift of colorful light. My world is paused for while, and I connect with him in the midst of "to-do" lists and urgent demands.

He loves me through beauty. I am filled with joy, and the joy is worship turned back to him, and I enjoy the worship because worship is full of joy... and well, I realize that this is the sweetness of having God as papa.

He tells us in his Word that we are rejoice in him always, and we think of worship as a duty and "right" behavior.  What we don't realize is that he knows we are really made for it, and that when we worship, we are filled with joy. It is communion with him. Love that flows back and forth, originating from him and reverberating back from us. I am so alive in those beautiful times, so full of thanksgiving.

Part of the beauty of the moment is that nothing has changed in my circumstances. I am still in traffic, still on a dirty street. I still have to return to the mess of a difficult relationship or financial worry. Nothing has changed except my heart awareness.  My soul is made lighter in communion with God, regardless of the life struggle.  Some folks would say it's "transcending" above circumstances, but I think it's more of a reality check than transcendence. He stops my stream of busyness to remind me of who he is, who I am, and what is really important.

I've been told before that I see things differently than other people. True. Perhaps that is why I am an artist instead of an engineer.  But that makes these moments even more sweet to me. God shares intimacy with me in the way that fits me best.  That is yet another wonderful part about having God as papa. He knows what will resonate with me.

It will be different for another of His children. Maybe it will be the face of one's child, the sound of laughter or fine music, perhaps the elegance of a mathematical equation, or the perfect structure of a cell that brings a person to appreciative, thankful worship.  It is not the same for you and me. We have an amazing, singularly attentive Father God.

I am curious to know what brings you to the place of joy and gratitude. I hope you experience it often.  May the eyes of your heart be opened to the intimate gifts God is giving you today.

It is so sweet to enjoy the Lord. Come, let us adore him, Christ the Lord!

Blinders and Fire Fights

Sometimes discovering my inconsistencies can be pretty funny. Recently, I was browsing a Fitness magazine while munching some extremely greasy potato chips. I had paged half-way through before realizing the irony of my situation. My next step will be to sit down with a large, cheese-lover's pizza and take in a work-out video.


Blind spots. We all have them. It's the big piece of wood lodged in our eye that we don't see when judging the behavior of others.  It's the camel we are have let through while straining out the gnats (Mt. 23:24).

One time in college, I was arguing with a friend and he finally said in exasperation, "You are so contentious!" Of course my immediate, non-contentious rejoinder was, "No, I'm not!" Hee hee hee.

And then I went home for a holiday and realized that my entire family seemed to communicate through arguing-- not knock-down-drag-out fights per se, but as my mom puts it "argy-bargy"conversation. Everyone had a dissenting opinion, everyone was right, and everyone was willing to fight to death to prove it. After being in a non-contentious environment at school, I found it exhausting.

I realized that indeed, I was contentious: exhibiting an often perverse and wearisome tendency to quarrels and disputes.  I worked hard to mitigate that behavior and thought I had kicked the habit, until my husband (then boyfriend) and I met up with my brother for the first time.  My husband was extremely confused. He had no idea why my brother and I were fighting at the dinner table. I was also confused because I thought the night had gone rather well. Yet again, contention reared it's ugly, little head. More work to do.

Discovery of this blind spot had a domino effect.  My contentious tendency revealed a need to be right all the time: pride and insecurity. It revealed a quick temper: lack of self-control.  My quarrelsome behavior showed me that I can be domineering and bite with words. It revealed an inability to listen well to others, to understand their point of view. It revealed an inability to be vulnerable in relationship: fear.

As far as I can tell, none of these things have made the "fruits of the Spirit" list. Shoot.

As Christians, our main goal in life has been described as "to glorify God and enjoy him forever." We often sing about wanting to know God better. The unintended consequence of this knowing is that we see ourselves more clearly. Next to God, we are not so great, not even a very good. In fact we are in deep trouble. Every Biblical encounter with God's glory leaves a person flat on the ground, babbling incoherently that he is going to die because of his sinfulness. Blind spots revealed!!

We are charged with goals: to be like Christ, to be light, to be ambassadors of heaven. Tim Keller says that the Christian life is about constantly putting out the small fires of hell that show up in our hearts. The difficulty is that on our own, we cannot accomplish these things.

Mercifully, God has sent a counsellor to help us, and if we are willing, the painful transformation begins. The Holy Spirit comes in with his tools and starts to work on us. Humility enters from below to show us who we are, and pride begins to wither. Conviction stabs our hearts and we are moved towards repentance. Love woos us out of fear and self-protection. Assurance asks to override anxiety. Our desires begin to change, and those impossible tasks of being like Christ and putting out hell fires become possible.

Contentious behavior was a huge, relationship-breaking blind spot in me. With the safe critique of a friend, I was able to see it more clearly and allow God to change me. I still get into debates on occasion, but I'm learning to let some things go. 

These fires will continue to pop up in my life. When one area of blindness is finally seen and dealt with, the Spirit shows me another one. We are constantly dousing flames... resentment and unforgiveness, gossip, controlling others, pride- again and again and again... (some fires take a long time to extinguish).

This process of transformation makes grace very personal and real to me. It also reminds me that everyone is in this blind-spot revealing process and in need of grace as well.

I suppose you can disagree with me if you like, but do you really want to argue about it? ;)

 "Let those of us who are mature think this way, and if in anything you think otherwise, God will reveal that also to you."

 Philippians 3:15

(I'm being a little cheeky with this verse, but if you look it up, it fits pretty well...)

The Wounds of Pride

I read this excerpt from Celtic daily prayers and it was really good for me.

"He said, 'Let us pray for those we love.' And that was easy. Then he said, 'Let us pray for those we do not love.' And there rose before my mind three men for whom I had to pray. They were men who have opposed my work. In this they may have been wrong.  But my wrong was in resentment and a feeling of letting myself be cut off from them, and even from praying for them, because of it. Years ago I read a quote from Mary Lyon that recurs to me again and again: 'Nine-tenths of our suffering is caused by others not thinking so much of us as we think they ought.' If you want to know where pride nestles and festers in most of us, that is right where it is; and it is not the opposition of others, but our pride, which causes the deepest hurt. I never read a word that penetrated more deeply into the sin of pride from which all of us suffer, nor one which opens up more surgically our places of unforgiveness."

Samuel Moor Shoemaker, And Thy Neighbor




Can't really add to that. It is a convicting reflection about what offends me and how I respond.

It is my Ongoing Story

I sat in the back of the car, feeling cold and empty. I could see my mom's silhouette in the headlights of oncoming traffic. She and my sister were talking about seeing my cousin dancing in their dreams. She's definitely in a better place, happy, with the Lord. But I felt no assurance or peace. I didn't know where she went. She was just gone. Heaven? I didn't know if it was real or just a way of consoling oneself in the face of tragedy. And it was a tragedy.  She and I had been the same age. At eighteen, life was supposed to be beginning, not ending. It left me cold and empty, confused and sad.

Her death was a jolt, a repercussive blast to the eardrums that leaves permanent change. If anyone was supposed to die, it should be me. I had a lot less to offer than she.  I returned to my second week of college heavy with these thoughts.  It was the first time that loss had infiltrated my world on a grand scale.  I didn't know what to do.

Was I mad at God? I don't know. I was angry at the unfairness of her death, but has no one to pin it on. I didn't know if God existed. It seemed like if he was there, he was helpless to effect change in the world.

For a while I continued to float through my freshman year. I went to parties and tried the drunken lifestyle, randomly made out with a boy. But I couldn't shed the cold emptiness.  This "party" stage was pretty pathetic actually. I was really bad at "wildin' out", and within two months I had given it up.  It just couldn't satisfy the gnawing vacancy I carried with me.

"Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also." John 14:1-3. 

These verses were read at the funeral. I had never heard them before. I didn't know where to find them in the Bible. But I wanted to understand them.  I came home late from a party and found the underused book. The last time I had opened it was for AP English, reading Job as historical literature.  I don't even know why I had it at college with me.

I laid in bed, flashlight in hand, and flipped through the book until I found John 14. The words were supposed to be comfort and I felt none. But I kept reading. Something in me couldn't resist it. Night after night, I would covertly open that Bible in the dark and read by flashlight. I underlined words, put question-marks in the margins.  It seemed to be written in a different language, but I was desperate to understand it.

At the same time, a community of Christians has materialized around me. My Christian RA had first told me the news of my cousin's passing. She would sit in the lobby and talk to me, comfort me, explain the book to me.  A friend invited me to a Young Life leader training.  "Training" appeared to be a group of students praying aloud and singing worship songs with a guitar. I was uncomfortable but kept going. There were cute boys involved, but beyond that, the group had a pull I couldn't explain.

I had so many questions about God's existence, the Bible's veracity, the religions of the world, why good people suffered. I wrote my dad a letter. He had been an atheist but converted to Christianity in his twenties. I wanted to know why. The letter was questions front and back. He took it very seriously, and a year later gave me his reply: 31 pages, single-spaced, addressing each question with deep, thorough care. It is one of the most beautiful gifts I have ever received.

And while waiting for that response, I enrolled in introductory religion classes, continued to go to YL training, and read the book. My soul hunger was crazily insatiable.

At home, one sister asked why I was reading that book so much. "I just have to know" was the only fitting answer. Another sister told me I had changed (and this was a good thing. I had never treated her well). I knew she was right. I felt different, less angry, less vindictive. I didn't operate with the same mean streak and didn't want to. My heart was changing.

I can't give a day of the week, a specific prayerful moment when God came to me. I can't tell you the first day I believed and accepted Christ as the way, the truth and the life.  One day, towards the end of that freshman year, I realized that I had been believing for a while. It's as if I had started walking in a direction without really thinking about it, and suddenly turned to see that I had been journeying with God.

I didn't know then that God wanted to be in a relationship with me, that he loves me. I didn't understand the death and resurrection that made it possible for me to be close to him.  But God has super-imposed his good news on my life. I was a dead thing made alive, a dark thing becoming light, bitterness becoming sweeter, a wound being healed, a stone heart turned to flesh. I was helpless to change, hopeless and empty. He changed me, gave me a hope, filled me up.

Wrapped up in my story is an assurance for anyone.  If you really want to know the truth, if you give him a chance and seek to understand him, he won't leave you empty-handed. He always shows up. He loves us so much.

He has loved me with an everlasting love. I am convinced that nothing in this world can separate me from it. He gives meaning to all suffering.  He forgives and transforms. He makes all things new. He makes me lovable and able to love. With him, death is not forever.  He is transforming me still. It is my ongoing story.

Fine Young Criminals

My sister's coin purse bulged mockingly.  "You stole my money!"I shouted.
"No, I didn't."
I pointed to the empty piggy bank lying on the floor.  "It was right there when I left and now it's gone!"
"No it wasn't. I don't know what you are talking about." 
I fumed with impotent fury. I had no witnesses. She was two years older and stronger than I.  I knew she had taken my carefully saved pennies, but I had no way to prove it.  I stalked off in frustration, thinking "When I get to heaven, I'll ask God and he'll show me how you stole my money. Then I'll know!"


And then... I framed her. I drew the nastiest, most terrible picture my five-year-old mind could conjure, forged her signature on the bottom, complete with hint of Dyslexia: Ytak, and immediately brought it to my mother.


For a while, things were going swimmingly. My mother was sufficiently horrified by the drawing, and Katy's pleas of innocence were unavailing...


And then... Mom looked a little more closely at the drawing, collapsing my house of cards. I have always been a good artist, better at drawing than any of my siblings. My mom knew Katy couldn't draw well enough to make this picture. I was found out.


And then... In her horror at what my mind could manufacture, she invited our pastor over to the house and showed him my terrible drawing, deeply concerned for my mortal soul.


In the end, I was broke and completely embarrassed. Revenge never gets you what you want.


An interesting twist on this saga is that I forgot about the frame up. I remember the stolen money and my vow for heavenly truth. I remember the drawing and the embarrassment of the pastoral disclosure, but Kate was the one who remembered the defaming forgery. And she had completely forgotten about those lifted pennies.


Isn't it funny how a mind works? It's really easy for me to remember the times that people have been unjust to me. I have a long memory for the mean words spoken on the playground, poor parental advice, personal slights. But my memory is short for the ways I have hurt others. I have some cringe-worthy remembrances of my misdeeds, but a lot of it is vague and glossy.  By contrast, the wrongs done to me are often in high relief.


Lately, when I'm praying, God will bring me some of those glossed over follies. It's not for the sake of shame or guilt, but for sober reflection on the state of my heart.  Sometimes I forget that I am desperately in need of forgiveness.  When one of these old sins is brought to mind I am rightly humbled again.  It's a necessary slap in the face. I need to be forgiven. I have hurt others. I am at their mercy. I am at God's mercy.


These reminders also undermine my carefully stored injustices.  I don't know if this is true for anyone else, but replaying those past hurts can actually make me angry all over again. I can even get upset about those stolen pennies if I think about it long enough.  


And then the words from Jesus' sermon on Mount Olivet pierce right to my heart: "For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses." (Matthew 6:14-15 ESV)
Jesus takes our sin away as far as the east is from the west. He no longer remembers it.  Corrie Ten Boom says that he takes our sin and flings it into the ocean, and puts up a "no fishing" sign so that it will never be brought to the surface again.


But in the case of wrongs committed against me, I fish them out and examine them again and again. This is not forgiveness.  The sins against me still have power in my heart. Yet if I refuse to forgive them, than how can I be forgiven?


Someone always ends up footing the bill of injustice. It's either shouldered by the victim or paid off by the criminal. In our case, Jesus paid it all. He hasn't held our sins against us. If we are truly crucified with Christ (Galatians 2:20), it means that we are going to pay too. We are going to have to swallow pain and injustice and forgive. It is a very difficult thing to do.

I am learning, too, that forgiveness is never a one time thing.  Every time a bitter thought comes to mind about someone, I need to forgive that person afresh. I have to turn my thoughts away from remembering the sin, because it has been forgiven.  This is not easy, but it is like Jesus.

What does forgiveness mean? No more bringing it up.  No more fueling of anger. No more trying to make the other uncomfortable. No more manipulative guilt trips. Sometimes we think we've forgiven and then we see the person succeed and get angry. This is a sign that there is more work to do.


Forgiveness takes full stock of the wrong committed and says: "I will no longer hold this over your head. I will not harbor it in my heart. The slate is clean." And it may be that the recipient of forgiveness doesn't appreciate it at all. It doesn't matter. We still have to forgive.


The stakes are pretty high with this. I can't be forgiven if I refuse to forgive.  God is so gracious, but I can exclude myself from his grace.  


Lord help me to be a forgiver.  Erase my ledger of offenders. Erase my ledger of offenses.


Set us free from the tangle of sin.

Running away

I've always enjoyed a good run. When I was little, I felt that my new, periwinkle blue, velcro 'Kmart Specials' made me lightning fast. I spent that first afternoon running up and down the sidewalk in them, wondering if passersby were impressed by my great speed.

As an adult, running has been a source of release and stress relief. I plug in earphones and take off, leaving behind the trouble... at least for thirty minutes. I've always viewed it as a necessity, and even felt that moving to a developing country would be too difficult because I wouldn't have the same freedom to run. (Nonsense, of course. I could run anywhere if I really wanted to).

But I've realized that my running has exceeded those thirty minutes on asphalt. I have done a lot of running away, and even when I haven't physically left, my mind has entertained the notion.  Every time I've faced a trial, the suggestion to leave has undoubtedly shown up.

A friendship hit a rough patch and I retreated inward. A romance fizzled and immediately a new state, a new city, a new anywhere-but-here felt like a good idea. Wasn't it about time for a new job? I was sure of it in the midst of a hard stretch.   Discontent or difficult relationships always triggered the itch to run away.  I haven't always acted on the flight instinct, but the option always appeals.

Running can also be preemptive. Fearing loss or pain, the first thought is to retreat before it has a chance to catch me.  A relative of mine gave her dogs away in order to avoid their eventual deaths. I always thought her behavior off and a bit cruel, but now I see the same avoiding instinct in myself. It is a battle to stay engaged with life.

I don't go for runs nearly as often as I once did. The discs in my lower back have started to deteriorate, and the pounding of a run always threatens me with a back spasm or sciatica.  It totally sucks.  But I see that if running can no longer be my coping skill, perhaps God is wanting to teach me another way to deal with life.

I went on a run last night. At one point, I ran past a house where a yippy chihuahua was off leash. It started chasing me down the street, so I ran faster. The little imp had no trouble keeping up,  growling and nipping at my heal. This had to be a funny sight. What a guard dog. Obviously running wasn't working, so I stopped abruptly, turned and yelled "Hey, you go away!" and he immediately retreated,  barking in umbrage.

So funny. As long as I was running from it, that little thing was empowered to chase and bite. But my turning and standing thoroughly cowed it into submission. I had size on my side, after all.

Isn't this the same thing that God asks me to do? Turn and stand in the face of adversity? Running away never solves anything. Ignoring the problem only allows it to grow. Retreating from hardship only ensures that I won't mature.

The problems in life will undoubtedly be more intimidating than a little chihuahua nipping at my heals.  But if God is with me as he has promised, then I will always have size on my side.  I need to put on His armor: truth, peace, righteousness, faith, saving grace, and the Word, and stand up.

Alone I am easily shaken.  Alone I run away, but  if God is for me, who or what can truly stand against me?

He's promised that nothing can separate me from his love.  I just need to remember the one who is standing with me...


Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm. Eph. 6:13


(P.S.- Of course, I do think there are appropriate times to retreat. Healing, assessing situations, obvious physical danger, having healthy boundaries in hard relationships, etc. all require some form of retreat. I am talking more of habitual avoidance...)

The Best, Hardest Thing to Do...

Submission is a damnable word in our modern, American world. The weaker dog rolling over in the presence of the dominant one. Out-dated views of women's roles come to mind. To submit has come to mean giving in, losing, weakness, denigration, and inequality.

(This is not a thesis on marriage. Just a disclaimer. Apply where needed.)


Of the many prayers sprinkled throughout the Bible, one that hits me powerfully is, "Not my will, but yours be done."

It's uttered by Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane on the night of his betrayal. On the morrow he will face the cross. He knows exactly what the Father is asking of him, is familiar with the words of Isaiah: "Yet it was the Lord's will to crush him and cause him to suffer." He knows that the cup he must drink is that of God's wrath. He will face the judgment in our place.

Jesus' sojourn on earth is one of entire submission. In Philippians, it says that he emptied himself,  hollowing out his glory, power and beauty, and subjecting himself to the limits of humanity.  While walking on earth,  he did only the Father's will, unified in purpose and understanding. He allowed his Father to direct him; trusting him, loving him, believing that the will of the Father was the best possible way. The way of the Father has lead him to this terrible night.

When Jesus says, "Not my will, but yours be done," in dark Gethsemane, perhaps he is recalling another ancient garden, where the phrase was, "Not your will, but mine be done," and the fruit was plucked from the tree.

Refusal to submit to God's authority is at the root of our brokenness.  "You will be like God... " It is still our biggest problem. I see it in myself all the time. I don't believe that God will do what is best. I don't believe he can. I trust my own judgments over the ones written in his Word.  I hold up my feelings, thoughts, circumstances, and desires as the absolute and determine for myself what is good and evil.


Imbedded in this insubordination is a lie. It's a lie about God's nature. The serpent said to Eve, "God knows that if you eat this fruit you will be like him," and he didn't tell you because he wants to dominate you. He's power hungry. He likes to hold back blessing from your life. He doesn't want you to be happy. He really is powerless, and doesn't want you to know. He is not good. He does not love you. He's really out to make you miserable, setting up rules to watch you break them.


The lie was spoken, the trust of God wavered and caved, and centuries later, the second Adam stands in the garden, submitting to death so that we can be set free from the evil we brought on ourselves.

"Not my will, but yours be done." Jesus is trusting his Father. In the face of a terrible torture and death, knowing that all the weight of a broken world will fall on him in a short while, he is trusting that his Father will make it good. And through that submission, Jesus saves the world from sin.

I want his prayer to be my prayer. I want to submit to his authority in my life. I may not fully understand why he puts the boundaries up. He might lead me through some strange or sad places, but I believe that he does it for my good, and he will bring good from it.
I know he is good.
"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths." Proverbs 3:5-6

It creeps up and bites you...

My husband and I are embarking on the confusing journey of infertility. I think I always took this creation gift for granted. I come from a big family and have prolific sisters, and yet here we are...

We both have some pretty sad days, laden with longing and loss.  Yet hope is alive in us. After all, if God can give a child to a woman in her nineties, he can make things work in our bodies.

But there is a very ugly side to all of this.  Blame for a start. Is it me? Is it him? Which one of us is broken? If we had married sooner maybe this wouldn't be happening. If you married someone else perhaps you'd have children, but now your stuck with me...
These thoughts flit through the mind, but at least they don't stay long.  I know we are a team. The two have become one for better or for worse.

But where blame leaves off, shame steps in. The neighbor woman who shares our alley is carrying her third child.  I often wonder what she thinks of this couple with a roomy house, the wife refinishing furniture on the back porch. Perhaps I look too selfish to want children. I think of all the mothers around me, imagine pity and judgment in their expressions. Here I am, a failure at the most basic of womanly roles.

This leads to self recrimination. What did we do wrong to be punished this way? My husband reaches into his past and pulls out his mistakes.  This is the reason, he thinks. Because of this thing I did, now we both are suffering.  And then I counter, No, my sin is the reason. If I had only done this better...

All lies. The enemy of our souls mixes them thick. He feeds us the lines and we play them out.  Graciously, God always intervenes. He's taught me the truth so I can fight back.

He will use all things for the good of those who love him. There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. The old has gone the new has come.  Nothing is impossible for God. Man looks at the outward appearance, but God looks at the heart....

But this leads to the ugliest of revelations within me. This is the one that creeps up and bites me. I turn on God and point the finger. "Lord! I did it right. WE did it right. We have been in ministry. We've preached the gospel, tried to live good lives. We were chaste, virgins when we married. We followed the rules... and this is what we get!"

And there it is. So ugly. I'm reenacting the role of the older brother in the old parable. That parable about love for prodigals. Love without conditions.

Did I just live that way, do those things so that I'd get rewarded?

I believe this ugliness creeps into a lot of Christians lives.  A friend of mine wanted to be married by a certain age, and gave God an ultimatum. He didn't meet the demand and she rejected his way. Another served in Christian missions for years. In her burnt-out aftermath, the phrase was, "I did so much for you, when do I get mine?" 

I point the finger and join the team of the accuser. I turn the love affair with God into a bartering system. I trade love for manipulation.  And worst of all, I start making demands as if God owes me something.

He came for me while I was still hating him. He wooed me while I was stubborn and stupid. His love makes me lovable. In all things I am receiving: every breath, every perfect gift, every taste of freedom. Any good thing I have ever done is because God has made it good in me... so how can I possibly stand on the claim of fairness and rights?

God help me to love you because you are worthy and holy and true. Purify my jaded heart.  I reject these lies. I reject the barter.  No, my life choices were not to garner favors. I loved you then and love you now. You never promised it would be easy. I want you to be the deepest desire of my heart.  I refuse to leave you because life takes these unexpected, unwanted turns.

 Whom have I in heaven but you?
   And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.
My flesh and my heart may fail,
   but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. 
Psalm 73:25-26

Make it true.

God in my Closet

I heard a THUMP, a yelp, and muffled, "Help me!"
Bounding upstairs to the bedroom I shared with my little sister, I found her awkwardly wedged behind the double-decker shoe rack in our closet.

She was obviously stuck, feet in the air, one arm beneath her, accompanied by a jelly shoe, dirty laundry, and all manner of little girl minutiae.

Upon extrication, she shamefacedly explained that she had been reading C.S. Lewis's The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, and had noticed a shoe at an odd angle in our closet. It seemed to disappear into the wall, so she thought there might be a door into another world, right in our very room!  When she attempted to get into the fantasy land, she fell over the shoe rack and got stuck.

I laughed and teased her, and told everyone else in our family about the silly thing she did. Her eight-year-old imagination had managed to transfer the mystical land of Lewis's wardrobe to our dry-walled, suburban closet. It was so funny and ridiculous!

I was forgetting that just that week, maybe even the night before, I had cowered in that same closet, praying for God to protect me. I was so afraid evil spirits would get me, that I would be possessed if I let my guard down, or say the wrong thing and be condemned to hell. Fear crushed me into panic attacks in that closet. I would hide in its light, crying and praying, wanting to see a guardian angel, wanting proof that I was safe, wanting to escape the darkness in the dark of our room.

With twenty two years of hindsight, I can see that she and I were after the same thing. We both wanted another world to infiltrate our own, and with the faith of children, we thought it was possible. I wistfully realize now that we had better understanding then.  What was her longing, but for heaven? What was my longing, but to take refuge in a real, true God?

Jesus exhorted us to have faith like a child. I think that includes knowing there is no 'impossible' with God.  He can do anything we ask or imagine.  As we age, it seems like we don't out-grow child faith as much as diminish from it. Nowadays, even though I claim him as my God and Savior, I find that I don't  ask because I don't trust. I don't ask for fear that He won't show up.

Jesus also said that the Kingdom of God is at hand! It is coming! It is here, now!
But most of the time we don't have seeing eyes. We don't see that the heavenly kingdom is in constant motion, infiltrating this world all the time.  Perhaps if we could peel back our curtain of blindness,  rid ourselves of the dark glass, we would realize that heaven is at work among us and God is always, always our very present help in trouble. Always, and now.

There have only been a few times in my adult life that God has broken through to me, shown me a glimpse of this reality.  They are always startling, dreadful, awe-filled moments. 

One time I was sitting under a tree in the mountains and looked up to see an insect suspended in the air. I was suddenly aware of the space all around and beyond it. I looked past it into the blue sky and knew that beyond the blue was endless blackness scattered with stars. I knew it went on forever and ever, that it was immense, infinite. And I felt the Lord saying, "It all fits in the palm of my hand."  I was aware of His bigness beyond the universe, and my heart pounded with awe-full fear. I wanted to hide under a rock. I wanted to jump in the bushes like Eve in the garden. So exposed and small. 

But mixed in with that fear was longing. I couldn't stand it, but I didn't ever want it to stop.  God's greatness threatened to crush me, but all I wanted was to stay and be crushed. I was wholly known, crushingly known, but wholly loved regardless. This revelation was just a moment, a few seconds and it was over, but I still long for it. Heaven was at hand. 

I am thankful that he showed me some truth. In the midst of miseries and uncertainties, in the face of decisions and unknowns and brokenness, I can remember that our world is cradled in a mighty big hand. Only a God so great, only the only God, could condescend to care for each soul and still hold all the universe together. It is what makes him God.

It is daunting to know that God is so great, intimidating even. Who are we that he is mindful of us? And yet, that is also the sweetness of childlike faith. I know that God was in our closet, comforting me to sleep, awakening a thirst in my sister. His heaven invading our small world. No matter how important the Daddy, he will always be attentive to his children.  

Always, and now.

Jump for Jehoshaphat!

I was wondering what to write about this morning and did a random flip-open of the Bible.
WA-POW! "He summons the heavens above, and the earth, that he may judge his people."

Nope, I don't really want to broach that subject. So I flipped again... "Rise up, O Judge of the earth; pay back to the proud what they deserve."
And again, "He will judge the world in righteousness..."
And again, "But the court will sit, and his power will be taken away..."
Flip, "You are the ones who justify yourselves in the eyes of men, but God know your hearts."
Flip, "Instead He entrusted Himself to Him who judges justly."

I'm not kidding.  Each random Bible-opening found yet another verse on judgement. The final straw came in with: "I will gather all nations and bring down to the Valley of Jehoshaphat. There I will enter in judgment against them concerning my inheritance,  my people Israel..." (Joel 3:2).

So I gave in. I'm writing about Jehoshaphat.  It's an unpopular baby name these days, but it means 'the Lord judges'.

The concept of the Lord's judgment is not popular with most Americans (and perhaps too popular with a small minority). Biblically, the Lord's judgment is the end of the world, the final judgment of earth. The imagery isn't very appealing. The sun turns black; the moon turns to blood. There is blood and fire and billows of smoke. Destruction. Weeping and gnashing of teeth. The grapes of wrath are trampled. "The day of the Lord will come like a thief. The heavens will disappear with a roar; the elements will be destroyed by fire, and the earth and everything in it will be laid bare." (2 Peter 3:10)
Ouch. Now you see why I wanted to avoid this altogether.

But in the midst of devastation, there's something seemingly out of place.

Praise. Thanksgiving. Joy.

Revelation has the heavens rejoicing, and in 19:1-2 goes on to say, "Hallelujah! Salvation and glory and power belong to our God, for true and just are his judgments."

True and just are his judgments. 

Our perfect God made a perfect world, and gave it to us. We proceeded to destroy it for personal gain. He made us in his image, his highest creation. We proceeded to kill, exploit, ignore, scorn, and abuse each other. He gave us the words of absolute Truth, and we proceeded to discredit and judge them based on our desires.  Is it not right that He justly looks at our conduct and finds us wanting? 

So often we don't take our own misconduct very seriously... a little white lie, a moment of temper, minor gossip with a friend, improper change collected, harmless piracy of movies or music, a moral slip, a bad habit, it just happened once, just looking out for myself...
When we compare ours to the obvious sins of others, we can't possibly be judged as evil.  And even if we know we've screwed up, nothing we do now can undo our pasts. A true judge will see us clearly. Our hearts will betray us. Shouldn't we praise him for being a true judge?

Then also, there are all these unsatisfied debts, all these wrongs committed that have never been righted. "Will not God bring justice about for his chosen ones, who cry out to him day and night? Will he keep putting them off? I tell you He will see that they get justice, and quickly." (Luke 18:7-8) The Lord will avenge the helpless, the victims. Again, isn't this just judge worthy of praise?

I think this is the point where the gleeful minority shout out, "That's right! Stick it to 'em! Give them what they deserve. Bring it on!"

But lest we be hasty in wanting fire to rain down, remember that the Lord waits patiently to make his final judgment, "not wanting anyone to perish, but all to come to repentance" (2 Peter 3:9). God himself says, "Do I take pleasure in the death of the wicked? Rather am I not pleased when they turn from their ways (a.k.a. repent) and live? "(Ezekiel 18:23).  Delight over the destruction of the this world is not aligned with the heart of God.  He clearly isn't of a mind to rush things, and gives us all kinds of opportunity to come back to Him. Talk about unconditional love.

Praise and lament seem to go together in the case of final judgment, but praise ultimately wins the day. Included in the Revelation revelry is salvation: "For Christ died for sins, once for all, the just for the unjust, to bring you to God." (1 Peter 3:18). His sacrifice opens the door to repentance, so that if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The debt of death is paid. We're given Grace and mercy we cannot earn. We can be reconciled to God.  We can escape judgment and live. At the final judgment and destruction of this world, God will bring forth a new heaven and a new earth: beautiful, glorious, free of pain and sorrow. Hallelujah indeed! 

The Final Judgment will fill us all with dread and awe. The Lord will judge in perfect fairness and understanding. He will be praised for his rightful justice in response to the corrupt. He will be praised for His mercy towards repentant hearts. Blessed be the name of the Lord.

Silence in Heaven

"When he opened the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven for about half an hour. And I saw the seven angels who stand before God, and to them were given seven trumpets.

Another angel, who had a golden censer, came and stood at the altar. He was given much incense to offer, with the prayers of the saints, on the golden altar before the throne.  The smoke of the incense with the prayers of the saints went up before God, out of the angel's hand. Then the angel took the censer, filled it with fire from the altar, and hurled it on the earth; and there were voices, thunder, flashes of lightening and an earthquake." 

Revelation 8:1-5

Silence in heaven. That's a crazy thought. Heaven is filled with songs and worship of the Lord Jesus... and then suddenly, this silence.
Why is it there? Some say it's a dramatic pause before the final show down between good and evil. Maybe so, but look at what the eighth angel is doing.

In the silence, this angel carries a golden bowl, filled with the prayers of Christ followers, and places it on the altar fire. The smoke and the prayers rise before the Lord.

This may sound cryptic, but it's a beautiful example of God's love for his people. This insight into heaven gives me hope and comfort.

The altar. When God first instructed Moses to build altars, He said they must be set apart, holy, and "whatever touches it will be holy"(Exodus 29:37, 30:10). Anything placed on the altar is made clean, holy, pure.

This passage is full of rich theology, and I don't want to belabor it. Just ponder that the altar was a place of sacrifice for sin; an animal was substituted for the guilty person and died in his place.  Then Jesus came, the perfect Lamb of God, and substituted Himself for us, satisfying sin's death penalty once and for all (and conquering death!). He is the last sacrifice on this altar. The prayers are bathed in the fire of His sacrifice.

That still sounds foreign, but when I think about my prayers: ugly motives mixed with sincere petitions, the desire to sound eloquent underlying spoken prayers, imperfect pleas for my will instead of His will be done, it's no wonder that my prayers need a bath. All my corrupted thoughts and motives burn away in this purifying fire, and my prayers are presented to God as holy and blameless.

I wonder if the silence in heaven is for the purpose of listening to these rising prayers. I know God can listen regardless, but He calls for silence.  Perhaps the silent solemnity of the moment is for the benefit of all who witness it.  When we speak to Him, He wants us to know He is listening and that our prayers are important to Him, so important that He would silence the worship He so rightfully deserves, to allow our puny prayers to be heard.

Not only does He listen, He answers. After the smoke of these prayers rises up before Jesus, the angel takes the fire of these purified entreaties from the altar, and hurls them back down to the earth with power. Thunder, lightening, voices, earthquake...

He takes our helpless pleadings, and by His almighty sacrifice, our prayers are given power to change the world. He condescends to lift us up, to let us be a part of His plan for this earth.

Prayer. We often go to it as a last resort. We think we are just talking to the air, that it is a waste of time, and wouldn't it be better to do something?  We have all kinds of excuses why we don't pray: no time, don't know how, there are too many needs, it's a personal thing-- secondary to caring for people...

Revelation 8 tells me something different,  something reiterated throughout the Bible. Look to Jesus, Paul, James, Daniel, Nehemiah, David all praying;  not in meditation or contemplation (not saying these things are bad), but in direct conversation with God. The prayer examples of the Bible are simple, direct, humble, and for the most part, they are petitions. We must ask God to meet all needs: to pray for ourselves and on behalf of others, on behalf of the world. When we don't know what to pray for, the Holy Spirit intercedes for us, pleading on our behalf (Romans 8:26).

Be comforted, and pray, pray, pray. Pray alone and with others. Pray even when it feels foolish or hopeless.  Our prayers are so important that God silences heaven to hear them. He cleans them, listens to them, and infuses them with power from the conquering cross. Then he hurls them back to the earth and changes the world.

Summer Reads

If you are about to take a vacation and would like to take along a good book, perhaps you might enjoy some of these titles.

What is the What? -David Eggers: the journey of a "Lost Boy" from Sudan to the U.S.

The Hiding Place - Corrie Ten Boom: autobiography of a Holocaust Survivor from Holland

Out of the Silent Planet - C.S. Lewis: the first book in his Space Trilogy. Not typical Sci-fi

Perelandra - C. S. Lewis: second in the Space Trilogy, and one of my all time favorite books

One Thousand Gifts- Ann Voscamp: a sweet book about life-changing gratitude

Mountains Beyond Mountains - Tracey Kidder: follows a famous doctor through Haiti and the world

Searching For God Know What - Donald Miller: an honest and humorous book about faith

Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte *: high drama, Gothic romance... A love story with all the crazy twists

A Tale of Two Cities -Charles Dickens *: a classic about human nature, set during the French revolution

Cry, The Beloved Country - Alan Paton: about the ties that reach beyond Apartheid in South Africa

The Number One Ladies Detective Agency - Alexander McCall Smith: entertaining and endearing, set in Botswana. I think Precious Ramotswe and I would be friends if she were not fictional.

Black Like Me - John Howard Griffin: an eye-opening journey through 1950's Jim Crow South

The Great Divorce - C. S. Lewis: an allegory of heaven and hell that's more approachable  than Dante

And It Was Good - Madeleine L'Engle: unusual perspective and thoughts on the creation of the world

The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien: adventure, dragons, goblins, little hairy men... could it get better?

The Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis: My sister once thought that she could get to Narnia through our closet, which is proof of a great story!

The Reason for God - Tim Keller *: a look at the Bible, God and the meaning of life

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle: a collection of mysteries solved with amazing logic

Summa Theologica.... just kidding, summer vacation has to have some limits.

It's a random list, ranging from easy to intense reading. The ones with an (*) are either long, have complicated language, or just require more brain power. You have been warned.

These are some of my favorites, most of them have impacted the way I see the world.  

I hope you may enjoy them as much as I have!

Happy reading!

Choosing What is Better

Mary and Martha. Sisters. Personal friends of Jesus. There story, in Luke 10:38-42 of the Bible, carries immediate associations for those familiar with it. Jesus comes for a visit to their house, which sends Martha into a frenzy of hospitable activity. While she eagerly bustles to make everything perfect, Mary curls up at Jesus' feet and listens to Him teach, apparently unaware that there are other things to do. When Martha complains to Jesus, asking Him to get Mary moving, He replies: "Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her." 


Poor Martha. Her behavior has sullied her name throughout history. Being labeled a "Martha" is a delicate church slur. You don't want to be like her. Always busy, always doing. Better to be like Mary the contemplative, who chose time with the Lord over the distractions of this world.


And it's true. Martha wasn't choosing what was best. But I wonder if we've missed the point.  "Martha" often evokes a certain personality type: busy, type A, administrative, ambitious, active, distracted. Conversely, "Mary" typifies mystical peace, calm, reverence, devotion... she may as well have a halo.


And yet, perhaps this story isn't about preference given to comtemplatives over busy-bees. Perhaps this story is more about choices than about personality traits.


My wedding day started out poorly. Everyone had come to town, and being the remedial delegator that I am, I was fielding a lot of phone calls and last minute questions. The majority of my wedding attendants was late to the salon. I needed to get food for lunch and make sure a crumpled dress was steamed. As often happens, family and tension come to parties together,  and I, the designated "peace-maker", felt thinly stretched. By the time the ceremony started, I was close to cracking: exhausted, fatigued, anxious and alone. 


But then, the miracle. My soon-to-be husband and I knelt and took bread-body broken, and wine-blood shed, and God interrupted my imminent melt down. I became acutely aware of His great love for me. Jesus, body broken, blood shed, for me. Present moment love.  Not only this, but blessing upon blessing, here I was, kneeling at an altar next to a beloved man who was promising himself to me for our lifetime. It was as if the Lord was whispering in my ear, "I am here. I love you. This is important. Don't miss it."  The Lord is here, rich in love, be still and know, be anxious for nothing and rejoice with thanksgiving! 


And I did rejoice.


Of course, the Lord is always with me, no matter the time or place. But there are moments, break through moments, where He presents Himself in deliberate, personal, stop-and-listen ways. He comes as a guest to my house. 


And it's not my activity that prevents me from enjoying His presence, but the motives behind it. Perhaps Jesus read in Martha the desire to impress. Perhaps He saw her wanting to earn His approval. I know He saw my desire to prove to my family that I had a good life, that I was competent, that they should be proud of me. I know He saw the undercurrent of calculations that I ignored in myself. Thank God, He broke through.


Perhaps this vignette of Martha and Mary is about choosing to trust. Will I let God lead today, or am I too afraid to rescind my control? 


Maybe it illustrates the constant battle of proving worth versus receiving love. Who am I trying to impress? Why am I trying to impress? Will I let go of that desire?


Perhaps their story is an exhortation to stop, listen, and be present with Jesus in the moment, to let Him govern the pace of life, the importance of my activities, to let Him love me. 


Perhaps He is calling to Martha, to me, to sit a while until His unconditional love penetrates my thick defenses and frees me into obedience.


Maybe then, when His love overflows me with thanksgiving, I can work in freedom too, a love-offering instead of a love-earning.  

The Scandalous Fall into Grace

It seems like whenever I flip on a newscast, there is another big-name scandal to report: politicians with hidden mistresses and love children, leaders misappropriating funds, powerful people behaving badly. Recently, a reporter described one such debacle as "the most dramatic fall from grace in recent history."

"... fall from grace." Fall from Grace? The phrase stuck in my mind. It's a common idiom that has skipped unnoticed past my ears many times.

"... fall from grace." The words rolled around in my brain.  I know it has come to mean one who has fallen out of favor, lost esteem, done something so reprehensible as to become an outcast.

But this is wrong. Completely wrong. This is a lie.

Grace does mean favor, but not favor based on merit. It's a free gift, lavished on us with good will. It's not based on our performance, but upon the Will that is good and desires to give it.

Grace by definition cannot be earned, and therefore cannot be lost through bad behavior. It is extended while we are reprehensible enemies of God. Unmerited mercy combined with generous restoration-- this is Grace. It means we don't get what we deserve but instead are given good gifts.

Where does this leave our smarmy politicians? It means that they can't fall from Grace by their terrible behavior. In fact, the terrible behavior puts them in prime position to fall into Grace.

What a scandal.

We don't like the sound of that. We want them to fall. Hard. Our whole lives are based on having our good behavior outweigh the bad. If we are good enough, we earn position on earth--  even in heaven. These miscreants should not be given grace.

But, as it turns out, this good-enough belief disqualifies us from grace. When I looked up the origin of "fall from grace", I found this:

"You are severed from Christ, you who would be justified by the law (read: being good); you have fallen away from grace." Galatians 5:4(NLT)

We really don't like this. No pulling up by boot straps. No earning approval or hierarchy of goodness.  Grace is for the wretched.

Grace is the humiliation of mankind, and the leveler of superiority. It destroys worth based on comparison to other people. Accepting Grace means that we put off ever trying to be good enough, put off earning gold stars. If we continue to good-work our way through life, we are fallen from grace.

We don't like this at all, not until we find ourselves fast falling and in desperate need of a lifeline. Only when we are wretched do we understand Grace.

This is the scandalous love of God: He took our place in shame and guilt and wretchedness, died the death that we deserve, and rose again to make Grace available.

Because of Him, when we fall, we can fall into Grace.