Here in The Middle

I’m watching the dark earth wake up from its deep slumber all around me; the birds are fluttering and chirping in the bushes out front; and some preacher is talking about doing good deeds that can change the world during Lent; and it is as if the whole world is running headlong towards Easter morning. I know for many it is just another holiday, but underneath don’t we all have that wildly-winging hope for meaningful change? When the miracle unfolds right before our eyes of ice-cold days giving in to the warmth of the sun, of dead dry earth sprouting up new growth, it feels like anything could happen, and who knows what dry barren places left for dead might be renewed, called back to life. Here in the middle, between death and life, between where we’ve been and where we want to be, we wait and we count the days…all forty…through the six Sundays of Lent. And it’s like I can hear the Musician-King singing triumphantly, “Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning.” (Psalm 30:5)

Peter may have known more about the sea and its fish than he did about growing things in the damp earth, but he was used to waiting, had watched the darkness fade into dawn a hundred times over the Galilee; watched the sun catch the ripples of the water, and the shadows slide over the hills beyond; seen the cold of Winter melt into Spring every year of his life. He knew as well as any of us how it feels to be buried under the weight of guilt, carry your grief around and long for the light to come. And Peter may not have known much about philosophy and science, but he was dead-certain about one thing, that the cave-tomb where they left Jesus’ body was busted open that Sunday, and the light of day streamed in like glory on those neatly discarded clothes. Peter knew without a doubt that death can be the prelude to life, as surely as the seasons change every year, because the man he used to be was gone, and the Risen Christ who had walked out of that grave had resurrected him to new life too. He wrote to the scattered Christians to reassure them of what he had seen, remind them of what they were waiting for: “Christ suffered for our sins once for all time. He never sinned, but He died for sinners to bring you safely home to God.” (1 Peter 3:18)

Someone reminded me lately that in the space between the present circumstances and the future unknown, we are not alone, and if ever we thought we might get left in a really tough place, all we have to do is look up, to see the face of God who lives in the right-now of every moment. We may feel stuck, slowly counting through the days, but Jesus’ cross stands in the middle of everything, the unequivocal evidence that He is making all things new– the immovable promise that He is good, that He is standing beside us in the fire, as close as breath. Here in the middle of March, as Winter fades and turns toward Easter, we can see with our own eyes how Death is overcome by His Life, and the Darkness bowing down, all around. The Church-Planter Paul says it most eloquently: “For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ made His light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ.” (2 Corinthians 4:6)

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O Lord my God, I cried to You for help, and You have healed me…You restored me to life from among those who go down to the pit….You turned my wailing into dancing; You removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing Your praises and not be silent. Lord my God, I will praise You forever.”


Psalm 30: 2-3, 11-12

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My God is strong enough to raise me from the grave
Your love is great enough to take away my shame
Your mercy reigns
My God is making new the wreckage of my heart
Your hand is reaching down to pull me from the dark
Your mercy reigns

Mercy Reigns, Elevation Worship

Resurrecting

We don’t really celebrate Easter as a family,” my friend told me with a shrug that seemed just a little bit regretful. I immediately stopped what I was doing and sat down to hear more. And as she recounted bits and pieces of her childhood, memories of fasting and rules that made little sense to a child, rituals “that probably had some symbolism to them,” readings to commemorate Jesus’ death…. it seemed pretty clear why she had left it behind long ago. “It was all a rather solemn affair,” she concluded, shaking her head.

But here in the middle of Passion Week, with fresh graves still crying out, and people we love fighting hard against this frail mortality, I wonder how a person can manage to  live without looking forward to that one gloriously empty Garden Tomb at the end of the week. Jesus crucified has shown Himself to be Lord and Savior resurrected, and what we think we know about the world suddenly rearranges itself. This is the crux of the Good News. As Paul wrote to the early believers, everything we believe and do hinges on the events of this one weekend. The Resurrection is a reality that blazes bright in the middle of all our darkness, the proof of who Jesus is and what He accomplished for us– a lighthouse pointing us toward Hope and Home. I always thought of Easter as a day to celebrate, I tell her, because Jesus rose again…

And Jesus told His followers that death is only the prelude to life: “I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat is planted in the soil and dies, it remains alone. But its death will produce many new kernels—a plentiful harvest of new lives.” (John 12:24) We see it in gardens everywhere, and the Garden in the Beginning where death crept in was already looking forward to Life flooding from the Garden Tomb. So we come to Easter with hearts full of joy, for the Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead is changing us day by day, His power healing and restoring what was broken– new life springing up everywhere, with much more to come. “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love Him.” (2 Corinthians 2:9) Because Easter is not really a commemoration at all, but a victory celebration.

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“…let me reveal to you a wonderful secret. We will not all die, but we will all be transformed! It will happen in a moment, in the blink of an eye, when the last trumpet is blown. For when the trumpet sounds, those who have died will be raised to live forever. And we who are living will also be transformed. For our dying bodies must be transformed into bodies that will never die; our mortal bodies must be transformed into immortal bodies….
But thank God! He gives us victory over sin and death through our Lord Jesus Christ. So, my dear brothers and sisters, be strong and immovable. Always work enthusiastically for the Lord, for you know that nothing you do for the Lord is ever useless.” (1 Corinthians 15:51-53,57-58)

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The fear that held us now gives way
To Him who is our peace;
His final breath upon the cross
Is now alive in me!
Your name, Your name
Is victory–
All praise, will rise
To Christ, our king.
By Your spirit I will rise
From the ashes of defeat;
The resurrected King, is resurrecting me.
In Your name I come alive
To declare Your victory:
The resurrected King, is resurrecting me.”
(Resurrecting, Elevation Worship)

Sunday Is Coming

In this Passion week, with the all branches budding red towards the sky, and the flowers bursting forth from their Winter graves, we see for ourselves a tangible picture of the Savior making all things new with His suffering (passio in the Latin). And there is Hope in this Spring-time resurrecting. Not that we will find something to satisfy our hearts in this world after all, but that in Him we will have enough, and that “this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.” (2 Corinthians 4:17) Life from death, joy from sorrow, reaping from our planting as surely as day follows the long night.

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“Fear not, I am the first and the last, and the living One. I died, and behold I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of Death and Hades.” (Revelation 1:12-13)

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“Peace be still, You are near;
There’s nowhere we can go
That You won’t shine redemption’s light.
Our guilt withdrawn–
As You rise, we come alive;
The grave has lost, the old is gone,
And You’re making all things new…
And we are free;
Hope is found, You are here.
Our hearts forever sealed
By this love that came for us;
Now we are Yours.
As You rise, we come alive,
And You’re making all things new…”
(All Things New, Elevation Worship)

Hunting for the Right Things

Talking about the discipline of thankfulness and teaching our hearts to sing God’s praise, this morning in the car, and was reminded of past Easter seasons, when our small group intentionally focused on God’s good gifts.  Offering up this post from two years ago, with humble thanks to the Giver of all good things….

Here in this season of Lent, instead of fasting and acts of self-denial, we are counting our thanks out on paper, feasting on Grace. We are looking ahead to Easter and the resurrection, and rejoicing in the Giver of life.

And I find this to be true, that when eyes are wide open to see “Every good and perfect gift…from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights” (James 1:17), there is joy welling up that has little to do with visible circumstances. The Musician-King’s song echoes here: “You make known to me the path of life; in Your presence there is fullness of joy; at Your right hand are pleasures forevermore.” (Psalm 16:11) Maybe not that we get some unspecified list of treats, as if we were spending the weekend with grandparents, but that the more we live in His presence, the more we experience the depths of grace and the more we can see glory all around. No wonder the saints of long ago wrote down that the primary purpose of man was to glorify God and enjoy Him forever…relating to an Eternal Almighty Being is liable to take forever, and the psalm writer says it is all joy.

And you can tell, when you spend time with people, the ones who get this mystery of thankfulness, because the daily choice to recognize Grace– when you name it in every little manifestation and offer your praise back up to the Giver– has a way of changing you on the inside. Thankfulness is courage and hope and faith held high, a shield against the Darkness all around. The daily discipline of humble thanks-giving stocks my Thought Closet with more of Him and less of me. Thankfulness chases away resentment and discontent, calms the spirit, focuses my thoughts on the things that are true and honorable and lovely, just like the Apostle Paul advised. He made that same connection between rejoicing and thanksgiving– said it should shape our lives and our prayers, promised good results: “And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:7) 

So as we prepare for Easter and look forward to new life springing out of the ground into green, we go on hunting for His blessings, day by day, tuning our hearts to see Grace, to sing God’s praises– and it’s like we are setting the cross of Christ in the middle of all our days. Because these many little blessings are only glimmers of that one rugged signpost to Grace, where God’s Passion made all things new.

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“He who did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up for us all—how will He not also, along with Him, graciously give us all things?” (Romans 8:32)

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“This is amazing grace,
This is unfailing love,
That You would take my place,
That You would bear my cross.
You would lay down Your life,
That I would be set free.
Jesus, I sing for all that You’ve done for me.”
(This Is Amazing Grace, Phil Wickham)

Take Heart

As the sun warms and life quickens, here in early Spring…as the icy hold of death is cracked loose, slips away like a dark dream in the face of bright dawn arising…as we turn our faces toward Resurrection Day, there is this Word for all those holding onto hope:

“Look up into the heavens. Who created all the stars? He brings them out like an army, one after another, calling each by its name. Because of His great power and incomparable strength, not a single one is missing….how can you say the Lord does not see your troubles?…how can you say God ignores your rights? Have you never heard? Have you never understood? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of all the earth. He never grows weak or weary. No one can measure the depths of His understanding….He will feed His flock like a shepherd. He will carry the lambs in His arms, holding them close to His heart. He will gently lead the mother sheep with their young.” (Isaiah 40:26-28, 11)

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“Courage is what is elemental to living — composed of two parts fierce hope, and one part wild believing.
It’s hope that can create a quake that cracks all despair.
It’s hope that stands in your dark with a lamp lit with prayers.
And it isn’t the likelihood of your hope that sustains you, but the object of your hope that sustains you.
We lay our hope, full and tender, into the depths of Him.”
(Ann Voskamp)

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“All this pain
I wonder if I’ll ever find my way
I wonder if my life could really change at all
All this earth
Could all that is lost ever be found
Could a garden come up from this ground at all
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust”
(Beautiful Things, Gungor)

When Winter Seems to Never End

We are still hemmed in by piles of snow, but here we are planning our weekly Lenten lunches for the community, talking about how to make Easter real for hungry souls. And we can feed them sandwiches, fill up bowls of hot soup in cupped hands, re-tell the stories of our Savior’s Passion, but Easter’s new life seems very far away to a world gripped in Winter still.

And you don’t need to look far to see the bruised and the weary, hear the prayers going up for deliverance and answers, watch the upheaval of change and the demands that stretch to breaking. You can hardly escape the relentless newscasts about hate-fueled violence, see the world reeling on its axis. A resurrection can seem like a distant improbability to the one firmly stuck in cold hard realities. And under the gray-metal skies and endless cold, a heart can begin to numb– get the life leeched right out of it even though it is still beating– forget to look up, to look ahead and hope. This is what Lent is for, to remind us of the promise that goes back to the very Beginning, and it sets up the cross in the middle of everything, with the very flesh of God suffering death and bringing life to us. The prophet Ezekiel wrote down the promise for his own people: “’Dry bones, hear the word of the Lord!…I will attach tendons to you and make flesh come upon you and cover you with skin; I will put breath in you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the Lord.'” (Ezekiel 37:4-6) Jesus repeated it to His dear friends just before He called their brother back to them: “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in Me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in Me will never die.” (John 11:25-26) Lent sends our cold numb hearts to the cross and the empty tomb, bids us gaze on the proof of God’s love, let the certainty of hope run in our veins again and look forward to what He is accomplishing. Every year Spring brings that reminder of what is True and Eternal: the promise that in the end, Life wins. “.…thanks be to God, who hath given us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ!” ( Corinthians 15:57)

The bare-boned trees stand silently cloaked in snow, but there is resurrection coming.

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“Then will the lame leap like a deer, and the mute tongue shout for joy. Water will gush forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert.” (Isaiah 35:6)

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 “For people who are stumbling toward ruin, the message of the Cross is nothing but a tall tale for fools by a fool. But for those of us who are already experiencing the reality of being rescued and made right, the Cross is nothing short of God’s power.”  (1 Corinthians 1:18)

Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes

“Thank you, thank you for saying that! God sent you to me today!” she said with the intensity of a proclamation, and stopped in the middle of her work-out to give me a tearful hug. I was dumbfounded. Really? The music picked us up again and we kept pounding out the beat while my mind wondered over our conversation, looking for the words that meant so much to her, and all I could think of was what a humble blessing when God uses you unaware.

I knew her only casually, as another mom-of-young-adults, a bond that made us look for one another through the crowd at the gym, and ask about our fledglings occasionally. Today we happened to be the only two there in a lull of activity and before I knew it a question about who would be home over Easter turned into a heart-spilling of anxious concern for decisions being made, and all I did was share what I am learning: that the burden isn’t ours to carry any more, that God is faithful to work in our daughters’ lives as He has always done for us. Truth that bolsters my heart, and shouldn’t His goodness be shared? Such a small thing to offer, multiplied to abundance received by His Spirit.

It never ceases to amaze me how God puts the puzzle pieces together, and how He turns His making of us into blessing for others, so that the struggles of one heart can encourage another, all of us woven together in unexpected ways, and His Resurrection life still flowing outward from the Cross. It is the mysterious way the Body of Christ works when each part is fitted together as He chooses, each part different but necessary, and Him the Head. It is how we share the Good News with others– just living in His grace and telling what He is doing in our own hearts, because other hearts are hungry in ways we don’t even know.

We sing that old song with the children upstairs on Sunday mornings, “This little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine” and maybe we need to bring it downstairs to the men and women too. Who knows how God might use each willing part of the Body to pour out this Resurrection Life everywhere?

 

 

“My future hangs on this: You make preciousness from dust,
Please don’t stop creating me…
Oh, Your cross, it changes everything…”
(Second Chance, Rend Collective Experiment)