Category Archives: knowing God

coastal daybreak . . .

September 18, 2012

There are many moving parts to my story. They change on a regular basis, moving on to the stage of my life without warning and, just as quickly, making their exit. I cannot predict the flow. I only know to expect it—an ever-shifting current of ins and outs, ups and downs, heart-highs and heart-lows.

This is survival.

It’s not easily defined and even harder to defend. Each day is a fight—a deliberate choice to enter the fray, to live forward and to do so in the shadow and strong witness of Calvary. Because Jesus survived the cross I, too, can survive mine. He is the standard-bearer for survivorship, conquering the grave and stepping forth into resurrected light. I want to step accordingly, to greet each new morning with the expectation that what has not yet been wrought in me will be cultivated in me by the hands and willing grace of God.

As the sun rises, so does my hope. Daybreak heralds the arrival of possibility . . . opportunity. A new day for a fresh work of God, by him and for him. There’s so much yet to learn, so much yet to become. I am limited in my abilities, worn and torn by the struggle of my flesh. I am renewed by the truth that spirit trumps flesh, that eternal wins out over temporal, and that the pulse currently within me caters to them both—my now and my then.

Who, but our God, could fashion such a form to house both the seen and unseen seeds of forever? What mystery exists within us! The moving parts of our stories make for interesting dialogue, and for as long as our earthly tenures continue, we should our conversations with the Father. This is how we get to know him. This is how we move closer to holiness. When we tether our words to him, he tethers his Word to us.

This is survival. Real survival. This is how we rise above the madness and make sense of the many moving parts of our stories. This is how we live forward. We keep talking to God. In doing so, we acknowledge the Holy, and we open up our hearts to receive fresh words of consecration that, not only validate our survivorship, but also move us into a place of effective, kingdom ministry.

Two years ago, I couldn’t have predicted the parts of my story that have now moved on to the stage of my today. It would have felt too weighty back then; it barely feels a reasonable load right now. Still and yet, this is my story to receive and then to live. No one else gets to move the puzzle pieces. Just God and, then, just me. It scares me sometimes—this responsibility called my life. But what scares the most is not ever really living it, not daily making the most of it.

And so, this morning, to honor the moving parts of my story that belong to my Father and, then, to me, I said, “Yes!” to the morning’s light and joined Ben Ball on his radio talk-show, Coastal Daybreak. I trembled with the responsibility, and then I let it go . . . gave it to God, and said “So be it. Do with it what you will.”

 

(to listen to my radio interview with Ben, click on the following link: Elaine Olsen on Coastal Daybreak)

 

I don’t imagine I have a future in talk-radio, but I do imagine that God could take something as fluid as my story and give it a voice to further his kingdom purposes. In my weakness, he is elevated. In my brokenness, he is seen. In my survivorship, he is celebrated. And with my story, he is remembered.

When Christ is elevated, seen, celebrated, and remembered because of the moving parts of our stories, then we live the kingdom forward. We move it forward as well. What could be more honorable than this? What better way to finish the walk in front of us?

Keep moving, friends, and leave a kingdom trail behind you as you go. It’s the best that any of us can do.

Peace for the journey,

 

PS: The winners of Lisa Shaw’s book/CD and Cindy’s cards is Cheryl! I’ll be in touch, friend.

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Filed Under: Beyond Cancer's Scars (the story behind the story), book release, cancer, cancer volume 4, God's Word, knowing God, pain, radio interviews, wholeness, words

A Sunday Morning look from God’s Pew

July 30, 2012

This is where we went to church yesterday . . . at least for those of you who answered the roll call on my facebook page:
CommunityWalk Map – God’s House (7-29-12)
Twenty-five states represented (I think), at least twelve denominations and several non-denominational churches. You can click on this link for a better visual. Sorry, NC folks, we’re a bit covered up on the map. Thanks to everyone who pinpointed their Sunday worship to this completely random and highly unscientific poll. There’s no hidden agenda here, no huge motive attached to my survey, and certainly no guilt allowed for anyone who didn’t make it to church yesterday! I just wanted to give you a tiny (emphasis on tiny) of how our “church going” might look to God from his heavenly vantage point. Can you even imagine how we must look to him, how wonderfully warmed God is when he sees our worship meld together as corporate praise on any given Sunday morning?!

 

Along these lines, I’d like to share with you a reflection I wrote in my book, Peace for the Journey. It details the reasons behind my choice to be a church-goer. Blessings to you, each one, as you move forward in your faith this week. Shalom.

 

A Sacred Doing (excerpt from Peace for the Journey, F. Elaine Olsen, 2010, 134-136)

 

Church is a family business around here. Doing life with Jesus isn’t an option in our home. Hearts may refuse the deeper “doing”—the sacred work of the cross. But as it pertains to our physical “doing,” to our comings and our goings and our stops between the two? Well, there is compliance on the part of my children, at least for the seasonal eighteen years beneath our roof.

 

It sounds harsh, legalistic, and intrusive, but as parents charged with the sacred trust of “training up a child” in the way of holiness, we understand that church serves as an ample shaping ground. At least it should. If church isn’t your thing, if for some reason you’ve come to the conclusion that your church is doing more harm than good, then it is time to revisit the issue. Maybe even time to find a new church.

 

Why? Because church was never instituted for our harm. Church was given to us as a gift, as a celebration, as a way of gathering hearts in one accord for the unified worship of the one God who is worthy of our reverent pause.

 

It’s not about programs and seeing how much we can cram into a worship service in hopes of raising our emotional fervor. It’s not about worship preferences, a rocking band, a stoic tradition, or even the dressing of our flesh. It’s not about who knows more, who seems less, who offers little, who tithes best. It has nothing to do with pageantry and pomp and circumstances created to boast a better faith than that of the competing churches down the road.

 

We may think it does, and in many ways, the best of these things often enhance our time of church participation, thus leading us closer to the heart of God. But to limit our church experience within such parameters—to define the quality of our faith based on these self-imposed guidelines—is to limit the sacred worth behind God’s intention for our gatherings. That worth is based on something far greater—a grander intention that cannot be matched by our feeble attempts at the same.

 

Church should be a place where we gather to know God. Any other intention falls subject to this overriding one. We may institute all manner of routes to get there, but at the end of the day, only one path leads us to the heart of the Father . . .

 

The cross of Jesus Christ.

 

Churches that are willing to follow along this path are not obsessed with the peripheral “rest of it.” Instead, the people are simply content to gather together in order to more fully examine and more profoundly entreat the Lover of their souls. Where two or three come together in God’s name, he promises his presence (Matthew 18:20).

 

And this is one of the primary reasons why church is family business in my home. I am counting on the probability that when our Sunday gatherings commence, there will be at least two or three others who have gathered with a similar intention. I want my children to be in the path of other believers, giving them the opportunity for the sacred intersection of their hearts with the heart of the living God, who knit them together in his likeness.

 

Does it always work out that way? Not always, but does that mean we should stop our efforts along those lines? Should we forego our corporate worship because it sometimes feels contrived and fake and so seemingly full of pretense? When God seems to prefer the hidden corners of our gatherings rather than a full-blown revelation of himself, do we pout out the doors in hasty retreat never to return? Further still, do we allow our children their choices about their participation? Are we content to coddle their preferences about God’s mandate for their sacred shaping? Where does our obedience lie?

 

Church will never perfectly practice our faith. Wherever flesh gathers, problems seem to follow. It is the tension of an earthly pilgrimage—this warring between selfish living and selfless surrender. Still and yet, it is our road to walk. It is our path of privileged participation. We can refuse it, or we can bend to it. Either way, the road requires our feet and the feet of those we hold dearest.

 

Better to give church the benefit of our many doubts and believe that somewhere in our “doing” of it, we will come across Jesus. And whenever that happens, friends, the kingdom of God is opened up for the partaking therein.

 

I don’t want to miss the kingdom feast. I yearn for the joy of its sacred celebration; it is a desire I hold for my family, a yearning I pray for you. Thus, I bow my head and offer this humble plea:

 

Show us, Father, the glory behind our obedience to “do” church. Meet us as we gather, and humble us with your presence. Forgive us when we think that you could do it better. We are a selfish and foolish people to put our needs ahead of your purpose. We want to know you, God; and then out that knowing, we want to serve your people with the truth. Keep us to church; root us in faith, and then carry us along the path until our willing obedience finds us safely in your arms, fully home, and finally at rest. Amen.

 

To learn more about Peace for the Journey and how you might obtain a copy, click here.

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Filed Under: church life, knowing God, living God's truth, peace for the journey

the trembling heart . . .

July 22, 2012

Methodist Church, Cades Cove

 

God sees the trembling heart.

He saw mine this morning, took notice of the growing conviction that began in me long before my burden made its way to my usual second pew. His Word sparked a fire. His Spirit fanned it into flame, and I trembled . . . all the way through four verses of Johnston’s and Towner’s Grace Greater Than Our Sin.

“Sin and despair, like the sea waves cold,

Threaten the soul with infinite loss;

Grace that is greater, yes, grace untold,

Points to the refuge, the mighty cross.”

Soul-threatening, infinite loss. There was something about that phrase that rang as a clarion call to my spirit; it stirred me in the deepest way, and my heart trembled privately in that moment. It didn’t warrant the response of others. I kept it hidden. Most times I don’t; soul-stirring moments usually move me to an altar and to my knees in responsive worship, but not today. Today, I stayed put . . . stayed hidden in Christ and allowed my trembling heart its due. It came in fullness, and I was washed afresh with a healthy and holy dose of reverence for the only God who can be known.

I fear the day when my heart no longer trembles with such awareness, when my soul remains unmoved by the Spirit’s stirring. That would be death to me. Certainly, there have been seasons in my spiritual journey when I’ve experienced a worldly numbness to God’s presence—times when I’ve been unaware of his movements within and around my life. Times when, perhaps, I chose not to look inward, to reach upward, to bow downward because of some foolish notion regarding my own abilities to shake off spiritual complacency and to stir up a fledgling faith.

I cannot create a trembling, reverent heart on my own. Without God’s participation and willing disclosure of himself, I cannot grow my fear of him. I can only receive it as it comes from him, times when God clearly and forcefully cuts through the chaos and clutter of my existence and announces his authority in undeniable measure. This I can recognize. This I can claim as truth.

God is God, and I am not. Today my heart trembled with this realization. In holy fear, I clutched my hymnal; I sang conviction, and the sinner inside of me looked inward, reached upward, and bowed downward in grateful pause for the holy love that swept me up, swiftly and fully into the grace of Jesus.

How long has it been since you’ve felt the holy trembling of your heart because of God’s revelation of himself? When was the last time your soul shook with the realization that God is God and that you are not? Have you forgotten to look inward, reach upward, bow downward in anticipation of God’s presence? What self-reliance is keeping you from holy dependence?

I cannot create a trembling moment for you. I can only point you to the One who is willing to give you one of your own. Get to God. Ask him for more of himself to be revealed to you in your hour of need. God is not reluctant in giving himself to his children. God stands ready. He’s looking for those who stand ready to receive.

“Marvelous, infinite, matchless grace,

Freely bestowed on all who believe!

You that are longing to see His face,

Will you this moment His grace receive?”

Oh that we would never grow too grand and too certain regarding our righteousness that we forget the marvelous grace of our loving Lord! It exceeds our sin and our guilt and postures our souls for heavenly gain. As always . . .

Peace for the journey,

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Filed Under: conviction, faith, God's Word, grace, knowing God, worship

the boy I want to be . . .

July 2, 2012

 

“When Jesus looked up and saw a great crowd coming toward him, he said to Philip, ‘Where shall we buy bread for these people to eat?’ . . . Peter’s brother spoke up, ‘Here is a boy with five small barley loaves and two small fish . . . .’” –John 6:5,8-9

Here is a boy with loaves and fishes. I want to be that boy. A boy prepared to feed his hunger. A boy who doesn’t come empty-handed to a day’s worth of doing.

Here is the Jesus with bread of his own. I want to know this Jesus. The Jesus prepared to feed my hunger. The Jesus who never comes empty-handed to a day’s worth of doing.

Here is a boy with a better agenda, not a fixed one. One not chosen for him, but one he chose for himself. I want to be that boy. A boy not conditioned by the daily norm. A boy who sets aside busyness so that he might busy himself with the business of Jesus.

Here is the Jesus whose only agenda is us. I want to know this Jesus. The Jesus who set aside heaven so that his might busy himself with and immerse himself into our mess.

Here is a boy with expectation. I want to be that boy. A boy who anticipates the outcome on the front side of its unfolding. A boy who understands that the best show in town is passing through and that, should he miss it, he won’t have any stories to tell his friends, his family, the generations to come.

Here is the Jesus who exceeds expectations. I want to know this Jesus. The Jesus who’s seen it all—from the front side of all’s unfolding until the final curtain drops. The Jesus who is the one show in town that still has folks talking some 2000 years later.

Here is a boy with open hands. I want to be that boy. A boy willing to release his provisions into the hands of Jesus so that they might abate and satisfy the hunger of others.

Here is the Jesus with open hands. I want to know this Jesus. The Jesus who willingly released his provision—all that he had—to a cross so that he might abate and satisfy the soul-hunger of everyone.

Here is a boy with a witness. I want to be that boy. A boy who knows first-hand the mighty works of God. A boy who’s been given the divine rights and benefits of sonship and who has the awesome privilege of joining his Father in kingdom ministry.

Here is the Jesus who can make it happen. The Son who knows first-hand the mighty works of his Father and who willingly grants us the gift of sacred participation along the kingdom road.

Here is a boy . . . with loaves and fishes; with a better agenda; with expectation; with open hands; with a witness.

Here is the Jesus with all of the same.

When the two collide—the boy in me and the Jesus from God—a crowd gets fed, a story gets written, and the Gospel moves forward.

Here is a boy . . . here is a girl who is ready to take on that role. How about you? Are you ready to be that boy, that girl whom God grants the privilege of sacred participation? The child who willingly releases what you have into the capable hands of Jesus so that he might bless it, break it, and feed it to the hungry?

If you’re ready, then come to the mountain this day. Christ has pitched his tent near yours. The show has already begun, and the crowd is beginning to notice its hunger. You are the one Christ has chosen to fill their need. What privilege it is to be called the sons and daughters of God! This is who we are. As always . . .

Peace for the journey,

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Filed Under: hunger, knowing God, pilgrimage, provision

Do you want to get well?

June 25, 2012

“When Jesus saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition for a long time, he asked him, ‘Do you want to get well?’” –John 5:6

Do you want to get well, Elaine? So whispered the Holy Spirit to my heart this past week.

 

Of course, Lord, I want to be well. I am well . . . right? Even before I uttered my response, I knew the answer. Otherwise God wouldn’t have asked the question. God doesn’t waste words with his children. God speaks them as they are needed.

 

Being “well.” What does that look like for you? Feel like? Live like? The culture we live in dictates a wide variety of responses to this question. Soundness of mind, financial security, health of body, a stable family, and a charitable life, are just a few of the barometers used by society to measure personal wellness. But what do you use? How do you know if you are well?

 

I’m asking myself the same question, and I’m doing so in the context of Christ’s sacred conversation with the invalid at the pool of Bethesda some 2000 years ago (see John 5:1-15). I’m backing into story and into an understanding of wellness by examining its contrast—what wellness isn’t.

 

 

 

 

Wellness isn’t:

 

• Lying on a mat for thirty-eight years waiting for the waters to be stirred.

• Lying on a mat for thirty-eight years waiting for the waters to be stirred.

• Lying on a mat for thirty-eight years waiting for the waters to be stirred.

 

Yes, you read that correctly; three times over. I tried to come up with more bullet points to further define the contrast. Given more time and more deliberation, I’m sure I could come up with a fuller definition, at least as it pertains to understanding what wellness is not. But I have an inclination that there is one or two or ten of you out there, like me, that could hear these words and have them be enough to shake you up, wake you up, and grow you up. There is nothing about lying on a mat for thirty-eight years that is going to bring you and me any closer to gaining the healing we long for, the restoration and wholeness our Father longs to bring to us.

 

What moves us closer to wellness is our willingness to stop making excuses and to start walking with Jesus. Just start walking with Jesus. Healing and wholeness take time. I am not devaluing or disrespecting the timetable attached to the process of getting well. I’m forty-six, and I still have work to do. But unlike the invalid of Jesus’ day, I know who Jesus is, what Jesus can do, and how I can be well. I don’t have the benefit of ignorance to coddle my excuses. I have truth on my side—an entire Bible’s worth of hope at my fingertips, holy words from the holy God that can be wholly trusted with the wellness road.

 

Do you want to get well? Have your “thirty-eight years” been too many years? Today is the right day to begin your healing walk with Jesus. Roll up your excuses, pick up your mat, and pick up the Word.

 

The waters have been stirred. There is no time to waste. Movement wins. With Jesus, movement always wins.

 

Peace for the journey,

Do you want to be well? What is one tangible way you can move forward with your wellness today?

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Filed Under: God's Questions, God's voice, knowing God, obedience, pilgrimage, wholeness