Caught

Early the next morning he went back to the Temple. 
All the people gathered around him, 
and he sat down and began to teach them. 
The teachers of the Law and the Pharisees brought in a woman 
who had been caught committing adultery, 
and they made her stand before them all. 
"Teacher," they said to Jesus, 
"this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery. 
In our Law Moses commanded 
that such a woman must be stoned to death. 
Now, what do you say?" 
They said this to trap Jesus, so that they could accuse him. 
But he bent over and wrote on the ground with his finger. 
As they stood there asking him questions, 
he straightened up and said to them, 
"Whichever one of you has committed no sin 
may throw the first stone at her." 
Then he bent over again and wrote on the ground. 
When they heard this, they all left, one by one, the older ones first. 
Jesus was left alone, with the woman still standing there. 
He straightened up and said to her, 
"Where are they? Is there no one left to condemn you?" 
"No one, sir," she answered. 
"Well, then," Jesus said, "I do not condemn you either. 
Go, but do not sin again."
~John 8:2-11

I was reading about this woman this morning.
It's revealing to me of His heart that,
although He did assent to the 'justice' of her death sentence,
He, the Only Just Judge, remained inactive in her judgement,
stooping down with His hands on the dirt, and not on the stones. 
Refusing to condemn.
We are told to be like our Father in heaven,
who sends rain on the just and the unjust alike.
Raining mercy: indiscriminate blessings.

But also, that woman walked away knowing two things:
she was guilty as charged, and deserving of death,
but uncondemned, and given instruction
by the only One who could justly sentence her to stop it.
Stop this wickedness.
And doesn't it stun you that He works life and liberty out of such material?
That He speaks righteousness into the unrighteous?
That He makes of those who are not, something real and living?
His words have the power to rearrange our chaos into order.
To give life to the dead, and power to the powerless.
To make sons out of slaves, and foreign ones, at that.

From the Deeps

April, Ten and Eleven

Might I but scatter interfering things--
Questions and doubts, distrusts and anxious pride,
And in Thy garment, as under gathering wings,
Nestle obedient to Thy loving side,
Easy it were to love Thee. But when Thou
Send'st me me to think and labor from Thee wide,
Love falls to asking many a why and how.

Easier it were, but poorer were the love.
Lord, I would have me love Thee from the deeps--
Of troubled thought, of pain, of weariness.
Through seething wastes below, billows above,
My soul should rise in eager, hungering leaps;
Through thorny thicks, through sands unstable press--
Out of my dream to Him who slumbers not nor sleeps.

~ George MacDonald, Diary of an Old Soul

It's so beautiful, I hardly know what to add.
But it resonates, does it not?

We want so much for our service
to be without doubts, distrusts, anxieties of any kind.
We want it to be there,
close enough to hear His heartbeat,
reclining at His table,
clean and fed.

We don't want to stand,
having lost our outer garment,
at the foot of the cross with the weepers.
But the words of the vows echo in our hearts:
in sickness and in health;
for better or for worse;
richer or poorer...

Loving Him from the deeps
of troubled thoughts and pain and weariness,
of seething wastes and tossing waves,
of thorny thickets and quick sands.

O Lord...
That we would love You as You love us.
You sweat blood
and suffered hunger and sleeplessness.
You intercede for us when You're out of sight,
and touch our wounds to heal when You're near.
From depths we can't even comprehend You have loved us.
From the cup You shuddered to drink,
and the nails You stretched Your hands to,
and the thorns pounded into Your brow.
From nakedness and sorrow You loved us.
From homelessness and rejection.
From thirst and mockery.

Frankincense: Perfume of the Sanctuary

Slashing the bark of the frankincense tree is called 'striping'.
It, too, results in a resin bled out.
Tears form.
The hardiest species is the Boswellia sacra.
It is unusual in that it grows in unforgiving environments,
sometimes directly from solid rock.

'The means of initial attachment to the stone is not known
but is accomplished by a bulbous disk-like swelling of the trunk.
This disk-like growth at the base of the tree
prevents it from being torn away from the rock
during the violent storms that frequent the region they grow in.
This feature is slight or absent in trees grown in rocky soil or gravel.
The tears from these hardy survivors are considered superior
for their more fragrant aroma.' (Wikipedia)

Used to treat arthritis, to heal wounds,
and to drive germs from the environment,
it has been valued for many centuries.
It suppresses cancer cells.
The incense relieves depression and anxiety, healing the mind.

It accompanied the meat offering.
Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world.
It was presented with the showbread.
It was given with thanksgiving.

Herodotus claimed it was dangerous to harvest
because of the venomous snakes which resided in the trees.

Perfume of the sanctuary,
emblem of prayer,
symbolic of the Divine Name,
its Hebrew name means 'white'.
Come now, let us reason together, says the Lord, 
though your sins be as red as scarlet, 
they will be white as snow.

The Weight of Myrrh

Gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
Among His gifts, the aromatic resin of a repeatedly wounded tree,
cut to bleed.
Medicine for bruises, for injuries and sprains.
All My bones are out of joint.

Bitter.
It means bitter.
Like Mara, who ate bitterness,
and cried her heart out, and had nothing.
The tree that is cut to bleed out its healing is full of thorns.
Thorns that cursed our existence.
By His stripes we are healed.

It looks like the one I stepped on when I was eleven,
that pierced my shoe, and entered my foot,
and threw me to the ground in tears and howls so loud
that a nearby construction worker came looking to see what was wrong,
and pulled it out, and carried me to his car,
and drove me to my house, and got my mother.

I wonder if His crown was myrrh.
The thorns that pierced Him,
were they healing thorns?
Was its scent familiar to Him?
Had it perfumed His childhood?

It is antiseptic.
Washes out infectious material.
Analgesic.
It relieves the pain of the wounds so treated.
You can drink it in wine.
This is My blood which is poured out for you.

It is good for the heart.
A related species is considered one of the best substances
for the treatment of circulatory problems,
nervous system disorders
and rheumatic complaints.

The Egyptians embalmed the dead with it.
The Jews burned it as incense in the temple.

At times historically more valuable than gold by weight.
More valuable than gold?
The wounded-tree medicine?
The incense of worship?
The annointing for the dead?
The wound-cleansing, heart-healing, pain-relieving,
prayer-rising perfume of death?
How do I value it?
How do I value Him?

All thy garments smell of myrrh, 
and aloes, and cassia, 
out of the ivory palaces, whereby they have made thee glad. 
~ Psalm 45:8 

What Did They Not Understand?

Two stories about Him are closely connected in three gospels.
I was only reading the second, a story that has always puzzled me.
Mark gives us the briefest account of most things it relates about Him.
A mere sixteen chapters to summarize Immanuel; God with us.
What a remarkable thrift of words.

He made them get in a boat and go without Him.
He saw them straining to obey, because the wind was against them.
He came to them, walking on the sea, and would have passed them by.
They thought He was a ghost, were troubled, and screamed.
To which He replied, "Be of good cheer! It is I: do not be afraid."
He got into the boat: the wind ceased.
They were were stunned, shocked, amazed --
because they hadn't understood the loaves,
because their hearts were hardened.

Apparently I hadn't understood the loaves, either,
because I sat there not understanding as I read it.
I mean, I know about the loaves.
I know He fed those five thousand people with a pittance of food,
and that His disciples passed it out to everyone,
and then they gathered up the leftovers in baskets and were sent off in a boat.
But how are the two related?
How does bread have anything to do
with this odd miracle that seems to have no purpose?
Why is it recorded so many times
like there's something He wants me to know from it?
What, Lord? How come I don't get it either?

I turned to the passage in Matthew 14:22-33 and read it there.
I read about the bread before it, and made note of a few additional details.
In the margin of my Bible, it says that He said literally, "I am."
Not that strangely awkward, "It is I."
Hmm. A clue.
Matthew tells me this is when Peter walked on the water, in that wild wind.
And that when He got into the boat and the wind ceased,
they came and worshiped Him.
"Truly You are the Son of God!" they noticed.

The John passage tells me another notable fact:
the response to the multiplied bread was,
"This is truly the Prophet."

Their hardened hearts had hidden His divinity from them,
even in the multiplication of the bread.
There is no record of their worship or marveling at Him
when He fed the five thousand.
It seems they just passed out the bread, gathered up the leftovers,
and got into the boat to leave.

They handled the bread He had multiplied;
they served Him in passing it out;
and they failed to worship, even as they gathered up the excess.

As my children's teacher,
I sometimes leave them with longer exposure to a problem
to let their minds work it over, in hope of their understanding.
One of these passages says He told them to gather up the leftovers,
so that none of it would be lost.
Why would Someone who could do this miracle
care about saving every scrap?
What good is a leftover miracle?
I think He had hoped that in handling it again, they might notice Him.
The indicator of their hardened hearts
was that they did not recognize Him, and they did not worship Him.

So He sent them into a wild wind,
where their God-blind eyes terrified them at the sight of Him.
Where the presence of their salvation prompted screaming.
And where their fear pushed Him to communicate to them.
Take courage! I am. Don't be afraid.
When He joined them and the wind ceased, they saw Him.

Truly, You are the Son of God: Immanuel: God with us.
And we do not recognize it.
We do not understand with our hardened hearts.
We handle Your work with dull hearts and stupid hands,
passing out manna, and gathering back miracles without any worship.
Please forgive me for my silent tongue.
For the fear that panics and does not praise.

An Injustice

He was despised and rejected--
a man of sorrows, acquainted with the deepest grief.
We turned our backs on Him and looked the other way.
He was despised, and we did not care.

Yet it was our weaknesses He carried;
It was our sorrows that weighed Him down.
And we thought His troubles were a punishment from God,
a punishment for His own sins!
But He was pierced for our rebellion,
crushed for our sins.
He was beaten so we could be whole.
He was whipped so we could be healed.
All of us, like sheep, have strayed away.
We have left God's paths to follow our own.
Yet the Lord laid on Him the sins of us all.
He was oppressed and treated harshly, yet He never said a word.
He was led like a lamb to the slaughter.
And as a sheep is silent before the shearers, He did not open His mouth.
Unjustly condemned, He was led away.
No one cared that He died without descendants,
that His life was cut short in midstream.
But He was struck down for the rebellion of my people. 
He had done no wrong and had never deceived anyone.
But He was buried like a criminal;
He was put in a  rich man's grave.

But it was the Lord's good plan to crush Him
and cause Him grief.
Yet when His life is made an offering for sin,
He will have many descendants.
He will enjoy a long life,
and the Lord's good plan will prosper in His hands.
When He sees all that is accomplished by His anguish,
He will be satisfied.
And because of His experience,
My righteous servant will make it possible
for many to be counted righteous,
for He will bear all their sins.
I will give Him the honors of a victorious soldier,
because He exposed Himself to death.
He was counted among the rebels.
He bore the sins of many and interceded for rebels.

And every time I read it, I am stunned all over again.
We looked the other way from Him,
turning our backs on His suffering--
but He was counted among us to intercede for us.
He is acquainted with the deepest sorrows... but they are our sorrows.
Our sin, our rebellion, our sickness,
our straying, our sorrow, our path.
His piercing, His crushing, His beating,
His whipping, His oppression, His slaughter,
His silence, His criminal burial.
The Lord's good plan.
Our righteousness: His work.
He is satisfied with the results of His anguish,
when He sees the accomplishment of it.
Our Hero -- better than a soldier.
His intercession saves us.

While I looked the other way, He did it.
While I turned my back, He interceded.
While I rebelled, He suffered.
While I strayed, He was crushed.
And doesn't it humble me?
And doesn't it exalt Him?
Shall He not have His reward?

To See You

You are:
the Father to the fatherless.
You set the lonely in families;
You hate divorce;
You comfort the depressed.
You call things that are not into being.
You touch lepers
and lead the blind by the hand.
You raise the dead
and give to the poor.
You eat with sinners.
You accept the worship of prostitutes and tax collectors.
You hold children in Your hands and bless them;
You defend mothers and children against Your own disciples.
You undress Yourself, wrap Yourself in a towel,
and kneel at the dirty feet of Your inferiors to wash them:
You say You love them.
You stop Your business
to attend to the prayers and the needs of women,
children, slaves and their masters,
people unfit to come to the temple for uncleanness,
Gentiles and Pharisees.
You are steadfast in doing Your Father's will
though it cost You:
You please the Father well.
You came to ransom many.
You let Yourself be touched,
fed, wept on, grasped at,
pressed, crowded, interrupted,
intruded upon, cried at.
You hear men slander You;
laugh at You; plot against You;
attribute evil to You.
You are mocked, whipped, beaten, torn at and pierced.
All these things You allowed.
You drank them all.

You said, "If you have seen Me, you have seen the Father."
I want to see You.
I want to worship You in spirit and in truth.

He Waits At The Scene Of The Crime

 
This was a really interesting article. It talked about some of the descendents of top Nazis, how they grew up not knowing these horrendous secrets about their parents and grandparents. One brother and sister, so horrified at the history of their progenitor's sins, both had themselves sterilized, in order to prevent the family from ever having another heir. They have walked around with a burden of guilt. 

I couldn't help but ponder: what do we do with our sin? With our family history of sin? Do we run from the facts? Do we visit the scenes of the crimes? Do we mutilate ourselves to keep it from happening again? Do we pretend there is nothing wrong in our past -- even if our family's past remains as the world-wide definition of evil? One man went to Auschwitz, where his father was brought up in luxury, and wept when he saw 'the gate to hell' that he recognized as a backdrop to old family photos. He was approached by victims of his own family, who told him their stories. He was forgiven, and felt joy for the first time in his life.

These descendants feel guilt by blood association. It seems they consider themselves tainted, although they have had no hand in the wicked deeds. It brought to mind our kinsman redeemer. The One who came in our likeness -- the likeness of sinful man. He came as our relative. He came to save us from inside the family. But in a sense, He is also our victim. Jew and Gentile alike laid their hands on Him and crucified the Son of God -- the Son of Man. We beat Him. We cursed Him. We tore His beard and nailed Him there. And He waits, at the scene of the crime, to offer redemption in His blood. That scene of our guilt, of our family shame, is the place where He waits to welcome us as brothers.

Fellowship in Knowing

A friend confided hurts to me -- hurts I've also had.
Received in different places, they caused the same wounds.
What to say?

"I exhort you to forgive them.
They are wrong, and they hurt you, and God can deal with them.
But you must forgive, for your own sake.
Because I am sure you want His forgiveness.
I know I do.
And I know for certain I have failed others.
I can't fix that.
But I can forgive when I am failed.
And sinned against.
And hurt."

That rejection and betrayal cuts deep.
"But I think about Jesus,
and how He looked at His disciples when the crowds left,
and He said, 'Are you going to leave, too?'
There is a fellowship with Him in knowing He felt rejection.
He was betrayed.
And He was abandoned by His friends to suffer alone.
And He loved them to the end.
Look at Jesus to learn how to forgive.
And look at Jesus when you feel afraid of fellowship."

I said it to my friend, and I said it to myself.

When I See the Blood

"And the blood shall be to you for a token 
upon the houses where ye are: 
and when I see the blood, I will pass over you, 
and the plague shall not be upon you to destroy you, 
when I smite the land of Egypt."
~Exodus 12:13

"And He took the cup, and gave thanks, and gave it to them, 
saying, 'Drink ye all of it; For this is My blood of the new testament, 
which is shed for many for the remission of sin.'"
~Matthew 26:27-28

"And standing afar off, 
the tax-collector would not even lift up his eyes to Heaven, 
but struck on his breast, saying, 
'God be merciful to me a sinner!'"
~Luke 18:13

"And the other answering, was rebuking him, saying, 
`Dost thou not even fear God, 
that thou art in the same judgment? 
and we indeed righteously, 
for things worthy of what we did we receive back, 
but this one did nothing out of place;' 
and he said to Jesus, `Remember me, lord, 
when thou mayest come in thy reign;' 
and Jesus said to him, 
`Verily I say to thee, Today with me thou shalt be in the paradise.'
~Luke 23:40-43

"The next day John sees Jesus coming to him and says, 
'Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!'"
~John 1:29

How He Fasted

"And Jesus called unto him his disciples, 
and said, I have compassion on the multitude, 
because they continue with me now three days and have nothing to eat: 
and I would not send them away fasting, lest haply they faint on the way. 
And the disciples say unto him, 
Whence should we have so many loaves in a desert place 
as to fill so great a multitude? 
And Jesus said unto them, How many loaves have ye? 
And they said, Seven, and a few small fishes. 
And he commanded the multitude to sit down on the ground; 
and he took the seven loaves and the fishes; 
and he gave thanks and brake, and gave to the disciples, 
and the disciples to the multitudes. 
And they all ate, and were filled: 
and they took up that which remained over of the broken pieces, 
seven baskets full."
Matthew 15:32-37

"In the meanwhile the disciples prayed him, saying, Rabbi, eat. 
But he said unto them, I have meat to eat that ye know not. 
The disciples therefore said one to another, 
Hath any man brought him aught to eat? 
Jesus saith unto them, 
My meat is to do the will of him that sent me, 
and to accomplish his work."
John 4:31-34
 He went on to describe the harvesting of food
(for which men spend all their labor).
He had already compared the work He had been about as food for Himself.
I think He was letting them know there was plenty to go around.

"Is such the fast that I have chosen? The day for a man to afflict his soul? 
Is it to bow down his head as a rush, 
and to spread sackcloth and ashes under him? 
Wilt thou call this a fast, and an acceptable day to Jehovah? 
Is not this the fast that I have chosen: to loose the bonds of wickedness, 
to undo the bands of the yoke, 
and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke? 
Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, 
and that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house? 
When thou seest the naked, that thou cover him; 
and that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh?"
Isaiah 58:5-7

Jesus, God's beloved Son, in Whom He is well-pleased:
loosing the bonds of our wickedness,
undoing the bands of our yokes,
letting the oppressed go free,
dealing His bread to the hungry,
bringing the poor and cast out to His house,
covering our nakedness in His righteousness,
and not hiding Himself from His fellow men.
He looked for hurting people --
damaged demon-possessed wretches
and used-up women in rejected towns
and men with withered hands hidden in their sleeves --
and He found them,
having gone out of His way to do it,
and He made them whole.
He took His riches, His abundance, His prosperity,
and He made it ours at His expense.

How He Prayed

 
"And when you pray, you shall not be like the hypocrites. 
For they love to pray standing in the synagogues 
and in the corners of the streets, 
so that they may be seen by men. 
Truly I say to you, They have their reward. 
But you, when you pray, enter into your room. 
And shutting your door, pray to your Father in secret; 
and your Father who sees in secret shall reward you openly."
Matthew 6:5,6

After sending the people away, he went up a hill by himself to pray. 
When evening came, Jesus was there alone... 
Matthew 14:23

Then Jesus went with his disciples to a place called Gethsemane, 
and he said to them, "Sit here while I go over there and pray." 
He took with him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee. 
Grief and anguish came over him, and he said to them, 
"The sorrow in my heart is so great that it almost crushes me. 
Stay here and keep watch with me." 
He went a little farther on, 
threw himself face downward on the ground, and prayed, 
"My Father, if it is possible, take this cup of suffering from me! 
Yet not what I want, but what you want."
Matthew 26:36-39

Jesus had no door to shut.
And because of it, we have the benefit of what the disciples saw and heard.
Through their eyes, we see Him on His face,
in dread of what He would walk through,
choosing to honor His Father though it cost Him dearly.
We see His secret communion, His private devotion.
His tender intercession for us.
Thank You, Jesus.

Now Abide

Love

suffers long

and is kind;

Love

does not envy;

Love

does not parade itself,

is not puffed up;

does not behave rudely,

does not seek its own,

is not provoked,

thinks no evil;

does not rejoice in iniquity,

but rejoices in the truth;

bears all things,

believes all things,

hopes all things,

endures all things.

Love never fails.

But whether there are prophecies,

they will fail;

whether there are tongues,

they will cease;

whether there is knowledge,

it will vanish away...

And now abide faith,

hope,

love,

these three;

but the greatest of these is love.

Pursue love...

It is one of the most read chapters in the Bible, 

even by those who do not revere the Bible.

It separates love from knowledge, 

from prophetic utterance, 

from the words of men and of angels,

from the understanding of mysteries,

from great faith,

from generous giving,

and intentional martyrdom.

It strikes me that the first thing it says 

in its description of love is that it suffers long.

This isn't a Disneyland love story:

it isn't syrupy at all.

...and is kind.

It suffers long and is kind.

That alone would seem to disqualify this passage 

from describing a human relationship.

I know some loving people -- who get provoked.

It bears all things?

All things.

There is nothing it doesn't bear?

Hopes all things?

I am a perpetual foreseer of doom.

You're going to break that. 

You're going to trip over that.

You will definitely screw up.

Disaster is around the bend.

I can't comprehend hoping all things.

I would be better described as

despairing of all things.

Endures all things.

Again, with the impossible.

Love never fails.

When I stopped seeing this passage 

as a list of attributes I hadn't gained,

I started seeing Him.

God is love.

We know love by Him.

He suffers long, and is kind...

He bears all things,

believes all things,

hopes all things,

endures all things.

He never fails.

He continues to intercede on my behalf, 

because He continues to hope for me.

He thinks no evil of me.

Is not provoked by me.

He loved us first.

I Thirst

"They said therefore among themselves, 
'Let us not tear it, but cast lots for it, whose it shall be,' 
that the Scripture might be fulfilled which says: 
They divided My garments among them, and for My clothing they cast lots.' 
Therefore the soldiers did these things..."

"After this, Jesus, knowing that all things were now accomplished, 
that the Scripture might be fulfilled, said, 'I thirst!' 
Now a vessel full of sour wine was sitting there; 
and they filled a sponge with sour wine, 
put it on hyssop, and put it to His mouth. 
So when Jesus had received the sour wine, 
He said, 'It is finished!' 
And bowing His head, He gave up His spirit."
~ John 19:24, 28-30

I read these things to my children tonight, and wondered as I read them.
Jesus said at another time that He did always
those things that pleased the Father.
He gave up His spirit when He had fulfilled
every jot and tittle of God's will for Him.
Right down to His thirst.
His thirst was in perfect harmony with His Father's plan.
Psalm 22:15 describes it: My strength is dried up like a potsherd, 
and My tongue clings to My jaws; 
You have brought me to the dust of death.

All His desires submitted to His Father's will.
Even those desires that were pain to Him.
He would not leave until He had suffered those, too.
God's hand was involved
in the distribution of His belongings to His persecutors.
This stuns me to think of.
And I wonder, are my desires the Father's desires?
Am I thirsting because He's dried up my mouth?
It seems like we assume if we thirst we're not doing His will.
But perhaps this thirst, this need, this dried up strength
is what the Father has for me.

My grandmother, in her last few days here on this earth,
was receiving hospice care.
Too weak to leave her bed, the hospice nurse asked her,
"What is it you would like?"
And in her barely audible whisper, my grandma said,
"To do the will of the Lord."

Light Walks With Me

'Be content with such things as you have.
For He Himself has said, 
"I will never leave you nor forsake you."
So we may boldly say,
"The Lord is my helper; I will not fear..."
Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever.'
~Hebrews 13:5-8

With such things as I have?
Wow. So often those things are not things that leave me feeling content.
Have you just had distressing, devastating news?
Be content with that?
With pain? With depression?
With a diagnosis of death?
Or a future expectation of loss?

I was speaking with my children tonight
about living as children of light, here -- in the dark.
That passage gives a reason for our contentment.
We have His promise!
Here, in the dark, He will not leave me alone.
Here, in the night, the Dayspring from on high dwells with me.
The Lamp to my feet, and the Light to my path walks with me-- the Word made flesh.

"I will never leave you, nor forsake you," He said.
"I am your God and will take care of you 
until you are old and your hair is gray. 
I made you and will care for you; 
I will give you help..."
(Isaiah 46:4)

The Lord is my helper; I will not fear.
He has helped me.
He does help me.
He will help me.

For thou wilt light my lamp: 
Jehovah my God will lighten my darkness.
And He does not change.

Defining Lowly

It's such an old-fashioned word.
Out of date.
But we haven't replaced it with something modern and understandable.
How do I update 'lowly'?
Because we need a good word to recognize His character with.

Jesus said, "I am gentle and lowly in heart,
and you will find rest for your souls."
We'll find rest working for Him.
Working with Him.
Because He doesn't heap on burdens and weigh down His tired sheep.
So I am trying this morning to define 'lowly'.

He isn't average, but He's among the average.
He came by way of a woman in such a way that guaranteed
He was looked down on from the very start.
Born in an animal shelter.

He isn't base.
At least not as we understand it.
It's funny how many of the words that interchange with lowly are insulting.
Because low is despicable to us.
Baseborn.
Cast down.
Common.
Commonplace.
Ignoble.
Lowborn.
Mean.
Mundane.
Menial.
Obscure.
Poor.
Servile.
Simple.

But I guess if He is willing to define Himself
with a word that means so little to us,
He must be comfortable with the low creatures that we are.
So that we who are cast down can approach Him freely.

A Divine Romance

I was reading this amazing poem in the category of marriage,
and it blew me away.
Surely its author was referring to our Jesus.
I loved that it so beautifully described the interchange of love.

"...Nor time, nor place, nor chance, nor death can bow
My least desires unto the least remove;
He's firmly mine by oath, I his by vow;
He's mine by faith, and I am his by love;
He's mine by water, I am his by wine;
Thus I my Best-Beloved's am, thus he is mine.

He is my altar, I his holy place;
I am his guest, and he my living food;
I'm his by penitence, he mine by grace;
I'm his by purchase, he is mine by blood;
He's my supporting elm, and I his vine:
Thus I my Best-Beloved's am, thus he is mine.

He gives me wealth, I give him all my vows;
I give him songs, he gives me length of days;
With wreaths of grace he crowns my conquering brows;
And I his temples with a crown of praise,
Which he accepts as an everlasting sign,
That I my Best-Beloved's am; that he is mine."
~Francis Quarles (1592-1644)

I've been reading through Nehemiah with my children lately.
I read chapter 12 in a children's Bible -- I'm not even sure what version.
But its simple language really caused the thanksgiving and praise
that His people put out to stand out.
I started thinking about the place thanksgiving and praise ought to have
in our relationship with Him.

I like how this poem pictures Him crowning me with grace,
and me crowning Him with praise.
Let's praise Him more.
Let's not leave His love unrequited.
He is our altar.
We are His holy place.
Let's be all His.

Through the Dark

Beautiful
Beautiful
Jesus is beautiful
And Jesus makes beautiful things of my life
Carefully 
Touching me
Causing my eyes to see
That Jesus makes beautiful things of my life

Fourteen years ago, this is the song our wedding party walked down the aisle to.

In fourteen years, there has been a lot of unbeautiful.
And we have seen the Lord's hand working with ugliness to make it beautiful.
Working in pain to bring joy.
Transforming sickness to healing.
Restoring brokenness into function.
Walking us through the dark in the light of His Son.

Our children are some of those things that were not --
called into being by His mercy and love.
Our two beings joined into four individuals --
each one me, each one him, and none of them alike.
How many different ways He makes the two become one.

So many memories now.
When we married, it was almost all hopes.
Hopes for children and home.
Hopes for experiences together.
And now, here they are... dreams made flesh.
Different than I imagined.

Finding their own joys, and sharing them with us.
Drawing their own pictures of their own hopes.
Walking through their own confusions,
fumbling out their own prayers.

He makes all things beautiful in His time.

Nothing To Commit

"Grace to you and peace from God our Father
and our Lord Jesus Christ,
who gave Himself for our sins,
that He might deliver us from this present evil age...
I marvel that you are turning away so soon from Him...
The gospel which was preached by me is not according to man.

I advanced in Judaism beyond many of my contemporaries...
being more exceedingly zealous for the traditions...
But when it pleased God... who called me through His grace,
to reveal His Son in me, that I might preach Him among the Gentiles...
they glorified God in me."

~excerpts from Galatians 1

"To attempt to change the gospel has the effect of making it the very opposite of what it really is."

"The gospel shuts out all works."

"The other day a man said to me, 'I want to become a Christian.
I am going to try to be a little better, and if I improve, I am going to become a Christian.'
"I said to him, 'If you improve, you will never become a Christian.  
The only class that God is saving is the ungodly.
The Lord Jesus said He didn't come to call the righteous; He came to call sinners.
There is none righteous, no, not one.
The righteousness of man is as filthy rags in God's sight.
Law condemns us, and it must make us speechless before grace can save us.'"

"The gospel of grace puts us in the dust and makes us beggars before God."

"We have nothing to commit to Him...
You have nothing to commit to Him, my friend.
He wants to commit something to you.
He is the One who died, and He is on the giving end."

~excerpts from Thru The Bible With J. Vernon McGee, on Galatians 1

What stood out to me in pondering Galatians 1 this morning was Himself.  
He is the gospel.  
He is the good news.  
He is the message.  
He is the deliverance.
And He is the One we turn from when we turn from the gospel.

The good news is the work of Christ accomplished for us.
Complete in Him.
Not our advancement beyond our contemporaries in zealousness,
but the revealing of His Son in us through His grace by His will
that we might preach HIM,
that God would be glorified in us.
God is not glorified in our righteousness.
He is glorified in the work of Christ --
the righteousness of Christ.
The deliverance of Christ.

Sons of Your Father

Do you ever wonder about whether you are growing as you should?
I have a tendency to think evangelism is the yardstick to measure by.
(Probably as a result of faulty something.)
I was thinking about it this morning -- asking the Lord about fruit.
Do I have any?
Am I healthy?

My mind drifted here:

'Love your enemies, 
bless those who curse you, 
do good to those who hate you, 
and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you, 
that you may be sons of your Father in heaven...'

'...And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors...
For if you forgive men their trespasses, 
your heavenly Father will also forgive you.
But if you do not forgive men their trespasses,
neither will your Father forgive your trespasses...'

'Now the fruit of the Spirit is
love,
joy,
peace,
longsuffering,
kindness,
goodness,
faithfulness,
gentleness,
self-control.'
The mark of sonship is love.

Will I exact revenge on my persecutors?
Will I demand payment of all I am owed by trespassers?
Can I pray for those who abuse me?

Jesus, hanging in agony on the cross,
used His breath to pray, "Father, forgive them."
He pitied His tormentors.

There is a precious promise in there.
If I forgive, He'll forgive me, too.
Because I am a debtor.
I have offended.
I have stepped on people.
I have looked past their pain and blamed them for their grimace.
I have forgotten them when I should have remembered.
I have been calloused when I should have been crying.
I have pointed my finger when I should have applied salve.
And I can't pay it back.

But I can forgive when it's done to me.