December 9

5:39 a.m.

It's early...and still dark.

Ann Voskamp has already encouraged me (via FB): You intended to harm me, but God intended it all for good. Genesis 50:20.  "God always brings good out of bad. God turns hard things into good gifts."

And then Heather Funk Palacios and her blog . I love what God is doing through Heather and Kay Warren and others to demystify those who battle not cancer or other terminal illness, but the often chronic and potentially terminal mental illness. That mystery, like leprocy among us, so hidden and cloaked and shamed. Bring it into the light for compassion and hope and inclusion. In the light, not in darkness.

Yesterday, I had my gray magically turned to golden brown, the color setting, my internal gray turning to light as well. Rather than read, it all poured out to this dear every five weeks friend. 

I talked about Gideon...but mostly about Exodus and slavery turned to wilderness turned to promised land. I mostly live in the wilderness. The place of learning to depend, learn to watch for Him to move so I can move, to be equipped and prepared and strengthened to tackle the giants in the land, the walls around Jerico that only come down with a crazy shout of praise. 

If there was one section of scripture I could take on a desert island it would be the Exodus story, my story. Gathering manna daily, only just enough for this day. Preparation and training; God showing up and showing us. 

And after giving a mini-sermon to her (and myself), then to the story of the woman who touched Jesus hem. The story that is so perfect for Matthew right now. The woman did everything to fix her ailment, what was going wrong in her life. Doctors, traditional medicine, alternative medicine, tons of prayer and reading...trying to do everything right so that she could be healed. Like us when we are so silly to think that if we read out Bible more, pray more, share Christ more, give more, go to church more, forgive more...all the mores; that more will make us well. 

And all it took was touching the hem of his robe. Simple faith. End-of-our-rope reaching out. He did not ask for more. He did not tell her to go read her Bible. To grow up. To tough it out. To prove that she had accepted Him as her Savior. 

What he did say was, "Your faith...." Faith plus nothing equals relationship with God. He is so different than any other god. Our God is relationship. He is the end-of-your-rope, right-where-you-are, God of mercy. 

How we nurture that faith then takes on such a personal note. Why saddle such child-like faith with a list of Pharisee-driven dos? Error and tragedy occurs when we do. It does not drive us to Him but from Him. We can once again, never measure up. Yuck!

As Dallas Willard said, "The path of spiritual growth in the riches of Christ is not a passive one. Grace is not opposed to effort. It is opposed to earning. Effort is action. Earning is attitude. You have never seen people more active than those who have been set on fire by the grace of God. Paul, who perhaps understood grace better than any other mere human being, looked back at what had happened to him and said: "By the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me did not prove vain; but I labored even more than all of them, yet not I, but the grace of God with me." (I Cor. 15:10) 

The sun is still not up. But I am. And I just heard Matthew turn on the shower for the start of another day. 

Couldn't love him more. Neither can Jesus. 

December 6

Long week. "The weary soul rejoices."

I'm not there yet.

What precedes that carol phrase..."The thrill of hope."

I'm not there yet.

But I suspect knowing the thrill of hope influences the ability for the weary soul to rejoice. So hope it is. The ticket to rejoicing.

Food for a weary soul.

Hope and rejoicing.

December 2

Sitting on the hotel bed after a business dinner, watching 9News, pondering the day. Feeling how Mary must have felt trudging toward Bethlehem; filled with baby unborn. Discomfort, one step in front of the other. Knowing the destination but the journey a challenge.

Wishing for a miracle for Matthew. Freedom from math. Freedom from that particular school suffering. Not a thing I can do. Stand and watch. Pray and beg for His mercy and grace to flood College Algebra. I know He has a plan. That success or failure in Math 121 won't change the destination. But the journey is brutal and tedious and filled with such repetitive discouragement.

All I can do is pray for Matthew's vision to focus on the destination and faithfulness to that one step in front of the other, trudging toward the finish line. Oh to hear the angels rejoice in a passing grade and freedom from math!

December 1

First day of Advent 2014. I haven't blogged in 11 months. Probably a good reflection of how I've felt about this year. So many words locked inside me. Turmoil and trouble. Layer upon layer.

The Advent book beside me proclaims, "the promise of His presence." Matthew 1:25 - "The virgin will...give birth to a Son, and they will call Him Immanuel - which means, "God with us."

Lord, be with me. Lord, be with Matthew. Lord, be with Todd.

I need Immanuel more than ever before. It seems as we age we also become more keenly aware of our need, and our inadequacy. At least that is my experience. Fragile. Vulnerable. Aware.

So much life lived, more than half. Lord, be with us as we traverse this holiday season, the end of this very challenging semester, as we exit Fall for Winter, as we struggle against colds that won't quit. You are here and present...let us breathe your holy presence in to fill us with peace.

Pay Attention to This One

"With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse human beings, who have been made in God's likeness." James 3:9

Basketball as Holy Ground

Back in October I wrote a post on a day in my life when football was sacred. Today it's about basketball. 

For the past three months basketball has been sacred ground for me. And true confession (from an overly enthusiastic sports fanatic...yes, I listen to sports talk radio in the car and watched ESPN during those middle of the night feedings 17 years ago), I really haven't ever been a fan of basketball. 

But that all changed on December 10 at Skyview Academy, in their gym, when the Jim Elliot Warriors took to the court and number 21 was among them. 

There is more to this story than I can ever publicly share or adequately write. But I'm a big believer in commemorating certain events with massebah, "standing stones." This is one.

Watching number 21 pick up that ball in November for the first time to earlier this month when he stole the ball and dribbled/drove down the court with the other team on his heels. I loved every moment and was the crazy mom screaming from the bleachers. I earned that from the moment I gave birth to this 1 lb.15 ounce wonder to that magical day. Pure grace.

He's overcome more than probably any of those kids on the team. He's fierce and determined and committed and that's how he got to this day. He chose not to give up. Not at 1 or 5 or 10 or 17.

He is a true Warrior.

Wise Words on Ministry...in Enemy Territory

"We realized the church must do better at equipping and enlarging this conversation of what a faithful presence looks like. How not everyone is called to “Christian Ministry.” But MANY are called to enemy territory, where allies are required to survive. How a grain of salt needs other grains to actually season the meat. And an ember needs other flames to lighten the dark."

Rebecca Lyons...excerpted from this blog post.