conviction | Elaine Olsen

hell-bent…

May 15, 2012

Hell-bent. Are you? Am I?

I know. A heavy question, but since I used this phrase in my last post, I thought it deserved some further exploration. Merriam Webster defines hell-bent as “stubbornly and often recklessly determined.” The earliest mention of the phrase in our English vernacular dates back to a line in the poem The History of Colonel Nathaniel Bacon’s Rebellion in Virginia by Benjamin Coleman (1673-1747):

“Ab-origines in Arms…did then resort,

In Haste to Susquehanna Fort,

Hell bent on Thoughts of Massacree.”

Apparently, there was a price on Colonel Bacon’s head, some “ab-origines” stubbornly determined in their pursuit of justice cloaked in massacre. I wonder if we’re prone to the same sort of behavior. A stubbornness, recklessness that resides within our hearts and that pushes us toward destruction—a massacre of the body, and ultimately the spirit, that lands us smack dab in the middle of hell.

Hell-bent. A phrase that, in my opinion, dates much further back than Coleman’s imagination. A truth that dates back to the beginning.

“Now the LORD God had planted a garden in the east, in Eden, and there he put the man he had formed. And the LORD God made all kinds of trees grow out of the ground—trees that were pleasing to the eye and good for food. In the middle of the garden were the tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. … And the LORD God commanded the man, ‘You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat of it you will surely die.’… When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it.” –Genesis 2:8-9, 16-17, 3:6

Hell-bent. Determined sin, stubbornly and recklessly chosen from the very beginning. Adam and Eve, massacring their flesh, bending their will in the direction of hell.

We cannot escape our genetic and our spiritual DNA. Without the transformational, sacred work of the cross, we remain hell-bent. With the cross, we overcome our stooped stature to bend our knees in another direction. With Jesus, we bend toward heaven—heaven-bent. With Jesus, our knees fall to glory rather than destruction.

So what’s the gain of a life that is heaven-bent? Well, to understand this we must visit its contrast. It’s much easier to digest the wonder and witness of heaven, but to study the wilderness and witness of hell? Few will go there; it’s just too barren a place for those of us who are focused on the goodness of God. But that’s just it… therein lies the core definition of hell. To live in God’s goodness, is to live with the understanding of its contrast.

“He [God] will punish those who do not know God and do not obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus. They will be punished with everlasting destruction and shut out from the presence of the Lord and from the majesty of his power….” –2 Thessalonians 1:8-9

Hell is the absence of God and his goodness… completely. Yes, we talk about “hell on earth”—seasons of life seemingly void of God’s presence and his goodness, but truthfully, “hell on earth” is nothing compared to hell for all eternity. Whether you’re a Christian or not, if you’re upright and moving today, then you’re experiencing the goodness of God. Life belongs to the Creator. The fact that you’re actively participating in this privilege is a testimony to God’s love for you.

Have you enjoyed a cup of coffee today? A walk? Creation—flowers, scents, and sunshine? Have you been blessed by the love of a friend, spouse, child? Been hugged lately? Had a good conversation? A good nap? A good thought? Are you educated? Employed? Free to choose your habits, consumptions, neglects? Have you known the warmth of a blanket, a bath, an intimacy with your husband, your wife? A good book? A good movie? A favorite television show? How about a delicious plate of food… even a stick of gum? Music, money, and merriment of a wide variety?

Anything good in your life today? Then thank God. Whether or not you’re willing to recognize him as the source of all goodness doesn’t mean that all goodness doesn’t begin and end with him. All goodness begins and ends with God… every blessed thing that we experience in our lives.

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” –James 1:17

To be hell-bent is to determine in our hearts that we are willing to live without it all in the end. Without God. Without goodness. Complete and utter emptiness except for the very deep realization of just how far that emptiness extends. A massacre of the soul that will not recover… ever.

I don’t tell you this to shame you; heaven knows there was a time in my life when I was hell-bent, bowing low and bowing often in the direction of sin and eternal destruction. I don’t tell you this to judge you; judgment belongs to the Father. No, I write you these words to warn you, just in case there are some of you who’ve never accepted the fact that there is a life beyond this one. Heaven is for real, but so is hell. There isn’t anything you’ve experienced on earth that comes close to matching the actuality of what awaits you if you continue to bend your heart in opposition to God’s truth.

I cannot imagine a life apart from God. I’m glad I don’t have to, but there are those who claim not to see him; not to feel him; not to know him. I would tell those people (maybe even you) to look at the multiple goodnesses in your life. In them, you will find God… a fleeting glance of what you risk losing should you continue in your hell-bent determination to do life your own way. You may think that you’re living apart from God, that there is no God, and that you are free to live without consequence. But you would be wrong.

No one lives apart from God; no one lives without consequence. This is our Father’s world, and God will have the final word on our eternal residency. He, alone, holds the key to forever.

Hell-bent; heaven-bent. In which direction are your knees bending this day? Choose wisely. Choose soberly. Choose today. An earthly tomorrow is not promised to us, but an eternal one is. As for me and my heart, I choose a forever with God and all of his goodness. I pray you choose the same. As always…

Peace for the journey,
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PS: For any of you who are struggling with your hell-bent tendencies and would like prayer or to discuss things further, please feel free to contact me by clicking on this link. Shalom.

Beginning Days… {the ocean is still free}

May 10, 2012

The ocean is still free. So I said to myself this past weekend while spending a few days on the shores of the Atlantic.

The ocean is still free. Free to roam. Free to breathe. Free to birth. Free to be.

Mankind has tried to control it, has sloppily put its fingerprints into it, but mankind has been unable to stop it. Freely the tide rolls in; freely it retracts. The ocean keeps a pace all its own, unwilling to cede ownership to anyone but its Creator. The ocean knows to Whom it belongs. The ocean remembers its beginning.

“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

Beginning days. God, darkness, and deep waters. Indeed, the ocean remembers its beginning. Do you remember yours?

” —the LORD God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being. … But for Adam no suitable helper was found. So the LORD God caused the man to fall into a deep sleep; and while he was sleeping, he took one of the man’s ribs and closed up the place with flesh. Then the LORD God made a woman from the rib he had taken out of the man, and he brought her to the man. The man said, ‘This is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called woman, for she was taken out of man.’ For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and they will become one flesh.” –Genesis 2:7, 20-25

Beginning days. God, dust, breath, man.

Beginning days. God, man, rib, woman.

Beginning days. God, man, woman, one flesh.

P1060911 — a beautiful momen to watch taking place… just God, the preacher, man, woman, and a couple of curious on-lookers

Life was simpler back then, in those beginning days. Life was perfect. Life was, as God meant for it to be.

But then, life changed. Less perfect. Less edenic. Confused and greatly burdened by sin’s curse. Somewhere between those beginning days and these days… our days, life got very messy and our remembrances of Eden mostly forgotten. And when Eden is forgotten—when beginning understanding and truth are traded in for modern day theory—then our nakedness no longer matters. We no longer notice it; instead, we’re hell-bent on exposing it… all in the name of personal freedom.

But this isn’t freedom, friends. This is bondage. This is being chained to our flesh, and this is when we find ourselves in grave danger of missing the great point of our lives—to surrender our flesh over to faith and back into the hands of the One who created it… in the beginning. To not allow our flesh to master us but, instead, to master our flesh through the blood-stained covering of Christ’s cross and through the transformational work of the Holy Spirit’s willing presence and power in our lives. This is freedom… God’s way. This is why the ocean is still free. The ocean is still willing to let God be in control.

The ocean is still free because the ocean has not forgotten its beginning. We would do well not to forget ours.

Peace for the journey,

burning the bridge to Egypt..

February 13, 2012

“The land you are entering to take over is not like the land of Egypt, from which you have come where you planted your seed and irrigated it by foot as in a vegetable garden. But the land you are crossing the Jordan to take possession of is a land of mountains and valleys that drinks rain from heaven. It is a land the LORD your God cares for; the eyes of the LORD your God are continually on it from the beginning of the year to its end.

So if you faithfully obey the commands I am giving you today—to love the LORD your God and to serve him with all your heart and with all your soul—then I will send rain on your land in its season, both autumn and spring rains, so that you may gather in your grain, new wine and oil. I will provide grass in the fields for your cattle, and you will eat and be satisfied.” –Deuteronomy 11:10-15

There is a thought I’ve been chewing on for a couple of weeks now… a truth from God that is beautifully emphasized by this photograph I found online (although I’m fairly certain the photographer had few intentions of it doing so). It is titled The Old Bridge Passing Through the Jordan River. Funny thing… I can’t even see the Jordan River. I can only see what man has built across it—an accessible passageway between two parcels of dry land.

No more struggling through flood-stage waters to get to the other side; only a casual walk-thru. What once would have required more strength, more intention, and more faith has now become less of a requirement. Man has found a way to manage the crossing of the River Jordan, thereby making the trip from Egypt to Canaan and back again an easier journey. Problem is, God doesn’t mean for us to return to our Egypts. He means for us to stay with him in Canaan.

For the Israelites, a trip back to Egypt was met by a formidable barrier—the Jordan River. For us, the barriers are lessened by the bridges we’ve built. We thought we were doing everyone a favor—giving easy access to Canaan so that others might quickly make entrance into the Promised Land. But something is lost when easy access is given to Canaan. Christ is lost in the process. Man-made bridges do little to keep souls connected to the kingdom of God. Man-made bridges allow for a return trip to bondage. Only in the bridge made by Christ and his cross are we able to make the pilgrimage into freedom and stay there.

And in the cross of Jesus Christ, there is always struggle. Always strain. Always choice. Always pain. This is the way of the crucified life. Faith is forged in the Jordan. Saints are birthed in the walk toward freedom.

For the children of God, there is a difference between Egypt and Canaan. At least there should be. A noticeable change between how life used to be and how life currently lives.

In Egypt, life is less. Less freedom; less abundance; less assurance; less hope. In Canaan, life is more. More freedom; more abundance; more assurance; more hope.

In Egypt, God is dismissed from the growing season. In Canaan, God is in charge of it.

In Egypt, self reigns. In Canaan, God rains.

In Egypt, the slave master keeps watch. In Canaan, God keeps vigilance.

In Egypt, obedience is mandated. In Canaan, obedience is chosen.

In Egypt, love for God is half-hearted, half-focused. In Canaan, love for God is whole-hearted, singularly focused.

In Egypt, there is stale bread and bitter wine. In Canaan, fresh bread and new wine.

In Egypt, the ground is hard, void of color and flavor. In Canaan, the grass is growing and green.

In Egypt, the view is horizontal. In Canaan, the view goes vertical.

In Egypt, the landscape is fixed. In Canaan, the landscape is limitless.

In Egypt, man possesses man. In Canaan, man possesses the kingdom of God.

Indeed, there is a difference between life in Egypt and life in Canaan. For the children of God, the contrast should be obvious, our choice of residency all the more. All too often, though, we’re tempted to access the bridges we’ve built between the two countries. A walk backward to Egypt (back to the captivity of our once bitter complaint) takes less energy these days, less intention than it did for our spiritual ancestors. It only takes a moment to return there. A single decision for less. None of us are exempt. Our flesh keeps us tethered to that one possibility. Until we drop this covering that holds our inward parts together, we’ll always have access to Egypt.

Time to burn some bridges, friends. Time to make it harder for our hearts to go backward. Time to, instead, live in the freedom that is ours as children of God. Time to saturate our lives with kingdom words, kingdom songs, kingdom walks, and kingdom company until the bridges back to our yesterdays fall prey to the waters of the Jordan and no longer serve as a convenient catalyst to captivity.

Where are you living today? In Canaan, in Egypt? On the bridge in between?

Do what you have to do to stay with God. God is in Canaan. Do what you have to do to get there. Do what you have to do to stay there, and make sure to burn any bridges that would allow you to leave there.

My match is lit. My heart resolved. My faith most certain. It is good to keep company with the King in Canaan. As always…

Peace for the journey,
elaine

On Nagging God…

January 26, 2012

“At that time I pleaded with the Lord: ‘O Sovereign LORD, you have begun to show to your servant your greatness and your strong hand. For what god is there in heaven or on earth who can do the deeds and mighty works you do? Let me go over and see the good land beyond the Jordan—that fine hill country and Lebanon.’ But because of you [referring to the Israelites] the LORD was angry with me and would not listen to me.

‘That is enough,’ the LORD said. ‘Do not speak to me anymore about this matter.’” (Deut. 3:23-26)

My son has perfected his nagging. How do I know this? Because, more often than not, I’m officially nagged. Weary worn from his tactics of repeated negotiations and hugely bothered by the fact that he doesn’t know when to quit… when my “no” is a “no” and why it isn’t wise to cross over that line. For the record, I’m not much of a “no” momma, so when a “no” rolls off my tongue, I think, perhaps, it confuses my son and fuels his will for the debate.

Just a little more persistence, just a little more obnoxious determination, and I’ll wear her down.

Sometimes it works, especially when he was younger. But now that he’s approaching puberty (and I’m approaching forty-six), he’s got less wiggle room for negotiation tactics, and I have less patience for entreating them. Things might be easier now if I’d have said more “no’s” to the dinosaurs at the Dollar Tree when he was three years old, but there’s a huge divide between dinosaurs that cost a dollar and purchases that exceed that amount by fifty times. Fifty dollar purchases must be weighed carefully in any household, and for a boy who’s prone to whims over reason, even more so.

Nagging notions + wasteful spending = selfish, temporary pleasure.

I know. I’m not so unlike my son, especially when it comes to nagging God about something rather than letting his “no” come home to roost in my heart as acceptance. Fortunately, I have a bit of age and life experience that allow me to sometimes see past temporal gain. I know something of nagging and wasteful spending and winding up with far less than what I’d hoped for. Accordingly, when I now receive a “no” from God, I’m more willing to accept it without need for further explanation. God sees better than me, and his forecast for my future is more expansive and far lovelier than what currently can be seen from my dining room window.

Moses was a nagger, not so unlike my son and me. He, too, wanted something he couldn’t have—immediate access to the Promised Land. Unlike me, he had open access to a conversational God and didn’t have to wonder about God’s response to his desire.

“That is enough,” the LORD said. “Do not speak to me anymore about this matter.”

God shut Moses down, because God saw better than Moses—a future more expansive and far lovelier than the current reality claiming Moses’ feet. God saw past the earthly Promised Land. God saw the Promised Land of eternal consequence. God saw heaven. God saw home. And God knew that saying “no” to Moses’ nagging was a gain for everyone in the end. Moses would no longer have to deal with an obstinate people; instead, Moses could go directly through the gates of forever and live in peace with his God, his Friend.

Nagging notions + God’s understanding = limitless, eternal pleasure.

Sometimes, we just have to wait for it, friends.

How much energy are you wastefully spending in nagging negotiations with God today? When have you heard his “no” only to be confronted by your willful “yes”? If, by all accounts, you’ve been given a “no” by God, then will you trust that it is for your good and for your gain?

Today, as I’m sitting at my dining room window and contemplating all things Jesus, I am tenderly and willingly confronted by God’s rebuke to Moses. I receive it as my own and fall to my knees in conviction for the nagging agitation that I’ve contributed to his ruminations in recent days.

That is enough, Elaine. Do not speak to me anymore about this matter.

God sees better than me, and his forecast for my future is more expansive and far lovelier than what currently can be seen from my window.

Nagging notions + God’s understanding = limitless, eternal pleasure.

Knowing this… I know enough. Canaan is the eternal “yes” that allows me to see beyond God’s “no.” Today, I rest there while living here, and all is well with my soul.

Blessed, sweet peace for the journey.

PS: From a random drawing, the winner of Lisa’s book and a set of Cindy’s cards is Denise! In addition, I chose Leah to also receive a set of cards from Cindy. Ladies, please check out Cindy’s etsy shop and let me know which design you’d like. Once I receive them from Cindy, I’ll send them to you.

the fire in my bones…

July 15, 2010

“But if I say, ‘I will not mention him or speak any more in his name,’ his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot.” (Jeremiah 20:9).

I wish you could see me this morning… all fussed up in the middle of my bed with grandma’s quilt as my covering and with my “parchments and scrolls” littered about—written words about the Word messing with my heart and mind. Some familiar works; some lesser known, but all of them with one thing in common—

Jesus Christ.

He has that effect on people, you know… starts messing with a heart and then doesn’t leave it alone until it is undone before him requiring a response therein. He’s been messing with me for a long season, and after four months of a grueling faith workout, I’m finally finding some rest. I don’t imagine it will be permanent. Every now and again, faith’s progression requires some strengthening, thus the need for a month or two or four of a strenuous heart-stretching in order to reach the next, higher plateau. I think I’ve reached it… at least for now, and with the accomplishment comes a day or two or four of some sweet steps with the Father where his mentoring is tender and his Word serves as the gentle salve to soothe my aching bones.

We’re in this together, God and me. He keeps reminding me of this… keeps returning to the pavement of my real life with his kindness and goodness—a grace that supersedes any menial expectations I might lay at his feet regarding his participation. God makes it his habit to exceed my limited understanding where his character and his Kingship are concerned. Rarely do I get it right, but always is he faithful with his correction. He can’t help himself. He simply and profoundly wants to be known by his children. God longs to reveal his fullness to his people; all too often, though, we’re unprepared and unwilling for his weighty disclosure. Why?

Because to receive God in all of his glory… to know him as he longs to be known, well with that kind of revelation, we make ourselves vulnerable to full, personal disclosure and for most of us, that isn’t a comfortable fit. The closer we draw to the purifying flames of Christ’s candle, the clearer we see our own deficiencies. God’s fire rids the flesh of everything temporal and replaces it with everything holy—a consecrated word or two or four about the Word that, eventually and in God’s timing, must be spoken aloud so as to avoid personal, internal combustion.

When God embeds his branding upon a heart—when God burns his mark upon a soul—one cannot help but show the world. If you’ve no compulsion along these lines… no need to rip wide-open your heart in order to reveal the sacred imprint that God has left behind in the wake of his purifying flames, then may I be so bold as to suggest that you’ve yet to fully come to the furnace in the matter of your sanctification? If there is no burning desire in you to tell others about Jesus and the saving work of the cross, then what’s the point of your salvation… my salvation? Just to make it home to him in isolation? Just to narrowly escape the flames of hell while our brothers and sister, neighbors and strangers are strangled and confined with their eternal punishment all because we’ve put our personal safety above corporate well-being?

I know it’s a heavy word and, perhaps, not in keeping with the message you might imagine arriving from a day or two or four of sweet steps with my Father. But you’d be wrong, friends, because a message like this is sacred sweetness to my soul. The weightiness of my Father’s presence in my life is the kindest, most generous work of grace I have ever known. Accordingly, with God’s fullness, comes God’s mandate—his words about the Word and about the need to rip wide-open my heart so that those around me might be able to see and to smell the scorch of heaven’s branding.

Jesus Christ is like a fire shut up in my bones. Like the prophet Jeremiah, I am weary of holding him in for these past few months; indeed I cannot. Christ’s love compels me to release him… to unleash the hot and fiery passion of the cross so that all who are caught in its wake might be consumed by its truth. I don’t know where this passion will take me in the days to come. My world lives pretty small right now, but even small presents an occasion for the dispensation of God’s flame every now and again.

A trip to Wal-Mart.
A phone conversation.
An e-mail.
A blog post.
A jog around the neighborhood.
A gathering of the saints at Christ UMC.

Indeed, a small extension in this big arena known as our world, but the last time I checked, roaring fires didn’t start out with a roar. Rather, they began with a single flame lit in honor of a single King for the single purpose of igniting a single heart until one by one, singleness morphs into corporate witness.

A roaring fire, flaming with the truth of heaven… shaking the very foundations of hell.

Indeed, I wish you could see me this morning… all fussed up and messed up with the truth of Jesus while sitting on my bed. I cannot think of a better consumption for my soul in the next day or two or four of my life. Thus, I pray…

Come and be my consumption, Lord Jesus. Fuss me up and mess me up with the truth of your weighty presence. Brand me with the cross and burn me brightly on the hill of your choosing so that others might come to know a day or two or four of sweetness in your presence. I put no conditions on my burning fire, Lord. I only ask for your faithfulness to fill me with your kindling and then to light me with the flame of your abiding Holy Spirit. We’re in this together; apart from you, I burn to ashes. With you, I burn for all eternity. Even so, come and set my heart ablaze for the kingdom. Amen.

Peace for the journey,

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