Category Archives: theology

five steps to harvesting a good theology…

It’s been one of those mornings in Bible study—a time of reflection that promotes more questions than answers. A day when I (again) wrote these words in the margin of my current Bible study guide, “Do I really believe this?” Whenever this happens, my contemplation takes a turn, sometimes toward clarity, sometimes toward confusion. On this particular morning, there’s confusion—a long wrestling of thought, Word, and practical living that doesn’t compute fully with the author’s considerations. Accordingly, I won’t “go there,” at least not with you, friends. Instead, I’ll take my questions to God and continue to flesh out my beliefs with him, with his Word, and with an open heart. Sometimes it’s just better to let our questions simmer before him rather than fanning them into flame before mankind. Why?

 

Well, sometimes we’re not as forgiving as God is. In fact, never are we as forgiving as God is. He’s more open-minded with our earnest probing and deliberate searches for answers. We, on the other hand, are more comfortable with ours judgments, making assumptions, drawing conclusions, and rendering a verdict when someone bravely risks doing the heart work attached to his/her faith and doing so out loud. And so today, I tuck away my questions, and I focus on a scripture that has surfaced for me from this same study and from God’s Word that doesn’t warrant my question mark but only my highlighter and my “Amen.” Hear now from God’s Word:

 

“So Ruth gleaned in the field until evening. Then she threshed the barley she had gathered, and it amounted to about an ephah. She carried it back to town, and her mother-in-law saw how much she had gathered. Ruth also brought out and gave her what she had left over after she had eaten enough” (Ruth 2:17-18).

 

So what in the wide world of faith and function do these verses have in common with the questions stirring in my spirit this morning?

 

Everything, because in these two verses, God gives me . . . gives you a “how-to” for dealing with the hard wrestlings that sometime surface for us as we move forward in our faith and understanding. Ruth . . .

  • gleaned the harvest;
  • threshed the harvest;
  • carried the harvest;
  • ate the harvest;
  • shared the harvest

Good theology, good understanding begins in the wheat fields, where bread has already been planted by the Sower, watered by the Sower, and grown by the Sower. Truth cannot be created. Truth already is; accordingly, our souls’ understanding cannot, should not be built from scratch. We must start with good seed planted in rich soil—a harvest ready for gleaning. Good understanding begins with God and his Word. Get there first, and you’re in a good place of education and eternal growth. Glean truth from what’s already been grown; you won’t come up empty-handed. God’s already handed you his abundance.

 

Secondly, good understanding grows during the threshing process—a time when the wheat is spread out so that the edible grain can be loosened from the inedible chaff. A time of cutting through the chaff to get to the palatable. “Without the grain’s release from its hardened casing, the ripened seeds are reduced in their usefulness” (Peace for the Journey, 2010, pg. 113). Good understanding doesn’t come home to roost in our hearts unless there’s been a hearty threshing applied along the way. It’s not always easy to relinquish the harvest to the pounding; rarely is it comfortable, but if we’re after God’s truth—if we really want to know that we know that we know deep down in the marrow of our souls—then we must surrender our questions and our confusion to the winnowing process.

 

Notice Ruth’s next obedience. She carried the harvest back to town. When questions surface in our hearts regarding our faith and our theology, not only must we glean and thresh the harvest, but also we must carry the harvest with us . . . for a season. Let the work that’s being done in you, linger with you for awhile. Don’t short step this process or make false assumptions about your knowledge. Good understanding must be mulled over, contemplated, and developed over time. The saints of old spent a lifetime cultivating godly understanding. They didn’t have all the answers on the front side of their faith; the answers arrived for them along the way and as they went, one step at a time. You don’t have all the answers regarding God and his Word. Thinking that you do is a good indicator that there’s more work to be done.

 

Next, Ruth ate the harvest. After gleaning it, threshing it, and carrying it, the harvest was finally ready for consumption. I don’t know much about the digestion process, but I do know that once something goes in my mouth, it goes down . . . deep down and becomes (in essence) part of my inward being. Are you hearing what I’m saying (rather what I’m typing—rather quickly and furiously I might add, not furiously bad, but furiously good)? Before anything, any truth, any knowledge becomes part of our inward beings, let’s be sure we give it thorough consideration before we consume it. To blindly eat the harvest in front of us is to open up our souls to disaster, to waste, to fraudulent food that does more harm than good.

 

Finally, Ruth shared the harvest. After she had eaten her fill, she generously shared the harvest with Naomi. Initially, we might think Ruth would have first given the harvest to her mother-in-law; after all, Ruth’s generosity is clearly on display at every turn. But I want to lead you along for a moment with a thought that just occurred to me. Just as the ancient custom of the king’s cupbearer tasting the wine before passing it on to his master, could it be the same principle at work here—Ruth eating her fill, making sure it was good for consumption before passing it along to Naomi? Could it be the same for us in regards to spiritual understanding? That after we’ve gleaned, threshed, carried, and eaten the harvest, we might finally come to some realizations about God’s truth in regards to our wrestlings and questions? In other words, if it goes down smoothly for us, if the harvest is good for us, then, perhaps it might be good for others, might be ready for the sharing? Sometimes, eating the harvest is the only way to know if it’s safe for public consumption. Better to pass truth along after it’s been tested.

 

And so today, on a day when I wrestle through some questions, I’ll do so with Ruth’s example in mind. I’ll glean from God’s fields, thresh the wheat, carry the edible around with me for awhile, eat it while monitoring my digestion, and then, maybe I’ll share it with you. Maybe I won’t. It’s too early to tell.

 

Oh that we all might take Ruth’s lead and step back from the mirror long enough to submit our thoughts, questions, and theology to the harvesting process so that we might arrive at the place of fully believing in the faith that we are so willing to boldly profess!

 

For what it’s worth, it’s what I’m thinking about today. What are you thinking about? As always . . .

 

Peace for the journey,

holding expectation…

Holding verses . . . you know the kind. The scriptures that hold you, keep you, warm you, and sustain you in your darkest hours. Where would we be . . . where would I be without the wrapping of God’s Word around my heart? Here are a few of the holding verses that cradled me during those dark hours named cancer.

 

“Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. Resist him, firm in your faith, knowing that the same kinds of suffering are being experienced by your brotherhood throughout the world. And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. To him be dominion forever and ever. Amen.” –1 Peter 5:8-11

 

There’s a lot of truth crammed into these four verses; the apostle Peter knew how to make every word count. He knew that the saints back then (those early Christians) would need some holding verses. I wonder if he also knew that we (current day Christians) would need them as well. Oh, the certain timelessness and gracefulness of the inspired Word of God! Indeed, holding words that keep us tethered to eternity.

 

So what did I learn from these four verses during my time of great suffering? What is still being learned? What truths from Peter’s yesterday can we expect to see in our todays?

  • Expect an adversary—the devil. He’s hungry, he’s prowling, and he has you in his sights.
  • Expect your faith. The life you live with God, the faith investments you’ve made into your spiritual bank account, have fortified your heart and your feet for a strong stand against your adversary.
  • Expect companions. You are not the first, nor will you be the last to experience your particular suffering. Brothers and sisters across the planet are struggling too.
  • Expect suffering (refer to first bullet point). Don’t blame God. Put the blame where it belongs.
  • Expect God.
  • Expect grace.
  • Expect an eternal glory in Christ Jesus.
  • Expect God’s willingness and ability.
  • Expect God’s restoration.
  • Expect God’s confirmation.
  • Expect God’s strength.
  • Expect God’s stability.
  • Expect God’s forever . . . and ever.
  • Expect an “amen” from God. A “so be it.” A finish.

 

Suffering days don’t have the final word on our faith and regarding our finishes. God does. And we can expect him . . . beautifully and certainly expect him to superintend our hearts all the way through to the end. He is and forever will be the holding Truth of my heart. I pray he’s yours as well.

 

Be watchful for the movement of God in your lives this weekend, friends. Expect it, even when your adversary seems very close at hand. Especially then, because your Advocate is even closer. I promise. As always . . .

 

Peace for the journey,
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PS: There’s still time to enter the give-away. See this post for details!

 

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the truth about God…

the truth about God…

 {“… longing fulfilled is a tree of life.”}

First things first. I wish I could gift each one of you a copy of Lisa Whittle’s new book, {w}hole. It’s just that good. That being said, the family budget only allows for two winners this go around, and those who’ve been chosen through random.org are Tiffany @ Tea with Tiffany and Terri Tiffany. Weird that they both have Tiffany as a name. Congratulations girls. Please e-mail me your snail mail, and I’ll get these to you in swift order.

Now, on to a thought for the day. A question really. One that’s been simmering close to my heart these past couple of days, because my heart has been tenderly bruised by the painful realities that sometime accompany a heart’s vulnerability—a heart’s willingness to lay open for exposure without placing any conditions on how it may or may not be received. Problem is (whether we realize it or not), we almost always place conditions on such vulnerabilities. We long for certain outcomes, and when the outcomes don’t meet up with our initial expectations, we’re sometimes left with a deficit of hope.

“Hope deferred does, indeed, make the heart sick; but longing fulfilled is a tree of life.” (Proverbs 13:12).

Deferred hope. Who of us hasn’t experienced this kind of heartache at least once, twice, or fifty times in our lifetimes? When this happens, even as it has happened for me this week, we must practice our faith despite worldly contradictions. We must speak it, rehearse it, pray it, and read it until we finally, again, rise to believe it. If we are to recover from the searing pain of hopelessness, then we must hit our knees to the floor and reach out for truth. God’s truth. Not truth as the world gives, but the truth that truly is and that lives in the heart and witness of Jesus Christ.

So, here is my question for you. A fill-in-the-blank sort of pondering. What answers would you provide to the following statement?:

I know that God is ________________________, because ________________________ .

What one (realizing that there are many) characteristic of God is most relevant, most needful, most apparent to you today—one thing that you “know that you know that you know” about our God? And secondly, you know this to be true because… (try to be specific here using a particular example of when this particular characteristic of God was made evident in your life).

Why the exercise?

Because sometimes we need the benefit, the courage, the strength, and the testimony of other believers to buoy us along on our road toward deeper faith. I certainly could use your witness today. If you’re so inclined and have the time, I’d love to hear some truth about our God. As always…

Peace for the journey

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the preceding effects of Presence

the preceding effects of Presence

for the one whose pain caught my attention…


I recently received an e-mail from a stranger. She needed a safe place for her thoughts; I was privileged to receive them. If ever anyone needed a “passing by” from the Lord, it was her. I imagine it still is her, for there are no easy answers to the heartfelt pleas… just a lot of pain and partial peace wrapped up together in a life that belongs to her.

I pondered her situation throughout the night hours and awoke the next morning to a familiar Scripture text found in 1 Kings 19. A long ago story about a man who deeply desired a “passing by” from his God. His “weary and well-worn” led him to the comfort of a mountain cave—a place known for its proximity to the presence of God.

“Then the LORD said, ‘Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the LORD, for the LORD is about to pass by.’ Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. Then a voice said to him, ‘What are you doing here, Elijah?’” (1 Kings 19:11-13).

God would not disappoint Elijah. Instead, God would come to him in full measure… in a way that is often missed by most of us. Whenever we read this story, we tend to focus on the whisper of God—the gentle, tender voice of comfort that is most needed in times of great despair. But in doing so, in relegating God’s whisper above the preceding manifestations of his presence, I think we miss a valuable teaching about the existence of Almighty God.

God’s living presence radiates from the core of his being, mirroring (in much smaller measure) the ripple effects we witness after a pebble is thrown into water. Where God is, isn’t defined by his frame. I have no idea what God looks like, but in my wildest imaginings, I’m tempted to give him a body—a contained perimeter in keeping with something that makes sense to me. But God is bigger than my imagination and far surpasses any box I am content to wrap around him. When God walks, the ripples of that walking extend far and wide announcing (well in advance) his arrival to the world.

And here’s what I think.

Could it be that the winds and earthquakes and fires that precede his arrival are just God’s way of letting us know he’s coming? That he is, in fact, on his way to us? That the wind cannot help but sway with the reality that his feet are on the move? That the rocks cannot help but split and crack because they better feel the weight of his gravitational pull? That fires cannot help but fan into flames because of the intensity fueling his intention? Why are we surprised when we experience the wind, the movement of the earth beneath our feet, and the heat of a fire around our souls prior to his arrival?

Earth, better than humanity, recognizes the approach of its King.

“Clouds and thick darkness surround him; righteousness and justice are the foundation of his throne. Fire goes before him and consumes his foes on every side. His lightning lights up the world; the earth sees and trembles. The mountains melt like wax before the LORD, before the Lord of all the earth.” (Psalm 97:2-5).

God’s presence extends beyond his whispers. We do not often see him in these preceding moments of our sometimes excruciating circumstances. Many of you, this day, are in the midst of some earth-shattering situations. Pain and conflict are your portion, and you are tempted to keep your eyes fixed in the present rather than looking beyond to the Presence whose comforting whispers are soon to follow.

If we could get that, if somehow we could begin to see the wind, the earthquake, and the fires of our today as the beginning manifestations of God’s rippling presence, then, perhaps, we’d anchor ourselves tighter to the truth of a soon and coming sacred whisper. Our faith would grow with the expectation that what is currently seen and felt will soon be tempered and relieved by the unseen breath of God speaking his comfort into our chaos.

God is on the move, friends. He is in the business of “passing by” your way. He comes with intention and purpose and with the rippling effects that have always preceded his arrival. This doesn’t mean his coming has caused your earthquake, it simply and profoundly means that his presence cannot be separated from the world’s notice.

And the last time I checked, the prince of this world (the one whose sole intent for our lives is to steal, to kill, and to destroy) was very disturbed by the coming of the King. When God moves, so does he. Satan is the author of chaos and confusion, and he will go to great lengths to make sure you miss the arrival of your Father.

I do not fully understand the condition of human suffering, what’s allowed us by God and what we miss because of his grace. I don’t know the length of the leash that’s been extended to the enemy. It’s a hard wrestling for me, and at the end of the day, I concede those answers to my King. But just this night as I think about my new friend and her pain and the pain of so many who are desperately running to God’s mountain in hopes of receiving God’s whispers, I cannot help but imagine the rippling effect of God’s presence.

The winds … the earthquakes … the fires that precede his whispers. And somehow I am comforted, and all seems reasonable and acceptable to me.

Hang on for God’s whispers, friends. They are coming, just beyond these rippling effects of God’s approaching steps. The earth better understands the arrival of its King. It cannot help but be shattered by the thought and, therefore, bow in surrender to his steps. Neither can I.

May God’s good comfort and abiding presence be with you all this day as you seek him on his mountain. You are my friends, and you fuel my passion for knowing our Father at the deepest level. Thank you for sharing the road with me. As always…

peace for the journey,

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Please remember that “Peace for the Journey”- © Copyright protected 2008 – 2009. All rights reserved and used only by the permission of the author, F. Elaine Olsen. Thanks!

Prelude to Genesis

Prelude to Genesis

“In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.” (Genesis 1:1-2).


Thought precedes action.

Always.

We may not be aware of the processes that coordinate behind the scenes to fuel our accomplishments, but they are there. Existing and simmering to bring about the plans of our heart … to walk the dreams of our creative impulse.

Thoughts are the stuff of creation. Without them, our lives walk accidental, void of purpose, and full of happenstance. And if that’s the case, if life is but an inadvertent pause birthed through inconsequential measure, then God is no longer needed. Rather, he is relegated to the role of an occasional participant in the Creation story when we need the story to make sense. When our thoughts force us to fill in the blanks of our beginning with some semblance of reason.

How callous we’ve become in our approach to our Genesis—to the whispers of all things Edenic that breathe a story much bigger than the one to which we’ve grown accustomed.

Six days of creative impulse and then a seventh to sit back and to reflect.

Doesn’t quite do the process justice, does it? We think it does. We’ve perfected our telling of said process, and on most days, I am quite content with a faith that walks so simply. But in doing so, in accepting the “flannel graph” version of Creation as presented to me in my youth, I miss the depth and the breadth of a beautiful pondering.

I miss God’s thoughts in the process, and to miss God’s thoughts in any process is to neglect one of his most sacred gifts to us as his children—

to think with the mind of Christ (1 Corinthians 2:9-16).

Thus, rather than sitting on the backside of Creation’s completion … rather than pulling up a chair on a seventh day to sit and ponder the fruition of a week’s hard labor … I carry my chair to the front side of our beginnings. To the moments that gathered and filled and served as the prelude to our Genesis.

They are there, not figments of a wild maybe, but real moments that are yet to be recorded by man’s pen but that are fully scripted in the annals of heaven. Our God is eternal, and with Him is our beginning, our end, and our every breath in between. Accordingly, as the pages of our Genesis unfold, we find Him already present.

Waiting. Hovering. Contemplating the dark and the deep, the formless and the void, knowing that out of his cauldron of wet, he would pour forth and plant the fruition of his thoughts.

Somewhere between seemingly nothing and everything, God lingered with his thoughts and with the endless possibilities that were his to write. To create and to birth. To fashion and to form. To measure and to mold. To perceive and then to paint.

See God there, staring into the face of the deep and monitoring the reflection of his thoughts as they gaze back at him. Pause and consider the moment. Linger long enough and full enough to grasp, at least in part, the magnitude of your beginnings.

There, amidst the ripples of blue skies and earth’s grass, stars and galaxies, flamingos and bluebirds, peach trees and rose bushes, amidst the swirls and inklings of all manner of species, comes another ripple. Your ripple. Your face, presenting itself as a possibility on the canvas of God’s forever. Your life reflecting back into the face of your Creator.

Imagine that moment, and if you’re still standing, find your knees and your gratitude for the truth of such a beholding. Long before you imagined your Father, he imagined you and lovingly decided that, indeed, you would play an important role in his creation. That you would bare his likeness and that his “goodness” would be declared over you, even though he knew you would be prone to declaring otherwise.

Your created life didn’t begin inadvertently. It began with the thoughts of God, long ago and far way in a distant dark and wet that hosted his hovering and that boasted his canvas. You aren’t his accidental impulse. You are his intentional pause—his deliberate holding until such a time as this when your seed of his Genesis’ prelude has finally bloomed into the living witness of his creative genius.

That, my friends, is what pulling up your chair to the front side of creation will get you. A truth that exceeds your sixth day arrival. And while some would argue that God worked up to our creation—that somehow after five days of a busy work week he finally yielded his best—I would say that his best was birthed long before that sixth day ever arrived. Why?

Because thought precedes action.

Always.

In our minds and in God’s. And since his mind exceeds ours and his actions all the more, our faith should grow in the belief that we are and have always been seeded with his eternity. Indeed, it is a story that is much bigger than our occasional flannel graphs and our reasoned grasp. May God grant us the wisdom and the willingness to walk its depth and to speak its grace with the whispers of the Genesis prelude pulsing in our hearts as we go. Thus, I pray…

Thank you, Father, for thinking up me. For pausing long enough to count my ripple worthy of your kingdom canvas. I cannot fathom such grace, such favor on my behalf; nonetheless, you’ve allowed my voice a melody or two alongside yours, and I am undone with the gift. Thank you for the blood of your Son that counts me worthy of any measure of kingdom influence. You, alone, harbor the seeds of my beginning and the punctuation of my end. You’ve seen it all; you know it all, from the prelude of Genesis until now, throughout forever. May I always harbor the certain and secure faith that comes from such a sacred knowing. Amen.

Copyright © January 2009 – Elaine Olsen

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PS: This article recently appeared in the March Issue of “Exemplify” (an on-line ezine). To download the June issue and read other back issues, click here.