living God’s truth | Elaine Olsen

a letter to a friend…

February 8, 2010

“As the rain and snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.” {Isaiah 55:10-11}

Dear New Friend:

I thought about you tonight.

As my family made entrance into the local Blockbuster to peruse our evening’s entertainment, I remained in the warmth of my van, perusing the contents of my recent purchase.

Your new Bible.

You won’t be the first to crack its spine. I’ve already done that on your behalf. It naturally and without prompt fell open to Haggai, page 1247. My heart was moved to tears. It’s not by accident that my eyes landed there—a profound reminder for both of us about keeping “first things first” … God first. Haggai is one of the shortest reads in holy writ, admonishing its recipients to “give careful attention” to their paneled houses—to all the ways we’ve majored on selfish gain while giving little thought to spiritual gain. Our neglect in regards to the building of God’s “house” within us, leaves us as we are rather than as he intends for us to be.

A good word for you as you begin a deeper trek inward into the treasure trove of God’s Word. Thank you for asking for it… for being willing to brave the articulations of your heart and wanting to know just exactly what it means to “get into the Word.” Your genuine request touched me in the deepest way. I don’t often receive this one—a plea for understanding on how to “do” this adventure called “discipleship,” of going deeper with God but not sure what that means. What that looks like. Where that starts. How that is managed. I have an inclination that you already know how that feels, and if your hunger feels anything like mine did seven years ago, then you, my friend, are overwhelmed with desire. Wanting to know more, but not sure how to get there.

You get there one verse at a time. One tender moment at a time. One prayer, one thought, one question bravely given to our God and, then, allowing him time enough to answer you through the power of his holy Word. You don’t go in expecting to hold his “all” in one sitting. Instead, you pace yourself, content to know that any time spent with Jesus on the pages of Scripture will seed in you more knowledge, deeper peace, and a stronger understanding of who he is. Not just sometimes, but every time. God has gone before us to write his Word in accurate measure. Not one “t” remains uncrossed; not one “i” un-dotted.

God’s Word is perfect. Is life. Is effectual. Is flawless. Is the very breath of his holy heart. Is consecrated and set apart for our good gain. As you are faithful to come to its pages, to unfold it one story at a time, God is faithful to bring you into a spiritual fullness you’ve never known before. This is the sure witness of my heart. These “ain’t” just words, sister. This has been God’s very good gift to me—the transformational work of my heart that began in magnified measure seven years ago when I had a head-on collision with the Word’s incomparable strength.

God’s Word has changed me. It will change you as well. And for the record, if you never receive any further instruction—via the pulpit, another teacher, another Bible-study, another blog, another retreat, another song—you’ve been given everything you need to engage with the truth of Scripture and to live out its witness (1 John 2:27). If Jesus is your Savior, then you have his living Spirit within you (John 14, 16). He will counsel you as you go; he will administer understanding that exceeds human attempts at having it all make sense.

Do we need help from time to time, some mentoring from those who’ve been at this longer? You bet. That’s why we do Bible study; why we surround our lives with good resources that will poke and prod us along in our sacred transformation. But when it’s not there, when we are left to our quiet contemplation before Father God and with his Word, then don’t let the enemy fool you into thinking that nothing is happening. That it can’t work because you lack the knowledge or don’t have the spiritual “resume” to back up your hunger.

Things always happen with God and with his Word… even when you can’t see it, feel it, conceive it, understand it. Even when you’re having a hard time believing it. God’s Word accomplishes its purpose in us; this is his promise to us. This is his promise to you (Isaiah 55:11-12; Hebrews 4:12).

So I thought about you tonight in front of Blockbuster, and I cried. I remembered how far these “pages” have brought me in a short time and how fully they continue to carry me, sustain me, and enliven me to the spiritual pulse of all creation. And I am overwhelmed with the thought of what they might do for you. Thus, a few tears of baptism and a prayer of consecration over your new Bible on this cold night in a warm van. There’s a lifetime of wealth within its covers. From front to back and every consecrated word in between, there lives a history that has always been… that will always be. You are part of that history; so am I. We are there, intricately woven within a story that’s been flowing in and out of the mind and heart of God for all eternity.

What a privilege to walk that story with you … to be included in something so far beyond us, yet so gracefully bestowed upon us because of a Father’s infinite love and great grace. You have reminded me of why I am in the kingdom business, friend. Why I have cast me lot with the Lover of my soul and have committed my heart, my steps, my pen, my all in his direction. And should he grant me a few more days of witness upon this earth, then by the grace of God, may my all continue to point you and others to the everlasting truth of his living Word.

Thanks for being brave. Thanks for reaching out. Your Bible will soon be home with you. As always…

peace for the journey,

~elaine
PS: Thank you to so many of you for leaving words of encouragement and congrats on my two-year anniversary last post. I had a hard time deciding what to do for three of you, so rather than picking a prize, I’m allowing the three winners to pick their prize… a Christian book or CD of choice that I can easily find on CBD or Amazon! E-mail me your choices {$15 limit please}, and I’ll order these this week. Random winners are…
#6 Rebecca @ Life and Godliness
#33 Kathy S. @ Blessed Builder
#49 Deb @ He Gave Me a Dream

footprints…

February 2, 2010

I am reminded of something this morning… something so small that if not carefully looking for that something, it is easily missed. Something so seemingly routine and mundane. Something we usually take for granted.

Footprints.

Ours and others.

Every one of us is leaving an indelible impression upon the ground beneath our feet. Some of those impressions but a whisper—unobtrusive and gentle.

Some a bit louder and more invasive.

Regardless of the size and scope of out imprints, we cannot escape the fact that they are ours to walk… to share, to leave. To say that we’ve been here, that our lives have touched the parcel of ground beneath our feet. Our footprints stand as a witness (both for us and against us) as to how we’ve invested our energies on planet earth.

And while others may not be paying close attention to the paths we are marking, there is One who is well aware of our tracks. He sees them from above. He walks them with us as we go. Whatever the soil beneath our feet, we carry the unshakeable kingdom of God with us. We are the fleshy temple of his eternal pulse.

When we get that, when we begin to see our footprints as something other than ours, then we begin to walk more carefully, more intentionally, more fully aware of just exactly how important our lives are to live each and every day.

Today, my footprints land me in close proximity to my front door. Another snow day has claimed my “to do list”, and I won’t lie to you. I’m not thrilled about it. I need my children to be in school today. But they’re not. They’re here with me and already beginning to wonder if I have plans to walk in their direction at some point. They are the kingdom soil beneath my feet in this moment, and I am praying for the grace and the patience to tread lightly and tenderly to their need so that they can better understand the love and grace of God that has been assigned to them via my flesh. So that they can follow my lead and begin to leave their personal footprints on a world that desperately needs the witness of God’s love and grace via their flesh.

Footprints.

Something to think about.

Where are yours walking? What impression are they leaving?

Currently, my feet are headed to the kitchen to look for batteries. Miss Amelia’s “air hog” is out of juice. Jadon is standing bedside with a newly assorted collection of baseball cards ready for my perusal. I’m not sure how my acquiescing to Amelia’s urgent need for batteries or looking at Jadon’s baseball cards will point them to Jesus, but I’m fairly certain that the way in which I respond to their “immediate” will speak a witness all its own.

How desperate I am for more of Jesus in me in this very moment! Now. He is my immediate need so that I can better respond to theirs.

May God grant us, each one, more of his wisdom, his love, his kindness, and his grace so that we might leave some lasting, kingdom footprints upon the lives of those who sit under our influence in the next twenty-four hours. I’ll see you on the other side of our snow day, friends. As always…

peace for the journey,

moving past my "average"…

January 27, 2010

“Dear friends, now we are children of God, and what we will be has not yet been made known. But we know that when he appears, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.” (1 John 3:2)

Her words spoke the penchant of her heart…

“Mommy, I want to be just like you.”

“No you don’t baby, you want to be better. You want you to live better. I’m just average.”

“Yes, I do mommy. I want to grow up to be just like you. What’s average?”

***

And I am undone with the conversation.

Average. A word I occasionally use to jokingly refer to my raw capabilities as a human being. It usually lands me a chuckle, but last night it landed me a question.

“What’s average?”

According to Merriam-Webster.com, average is “a single value that summarizes or represents the general significance of a set of unequal values.”

I don’t know what bugs me the most about this definition… the “single value that summarizes” part or the “general significance of a set of unequal values” part. Single value and general significance aren’t phrases in keeping with human value. The term “average” is best assigned to mathematical calculations, not people. Still and yet, it is a word all too common in our vernacular when describing the human condition, the human performance, the human beings created with an eternal pulse and an eternal end in mind.

When I look into the eyes of my young daughter, I see nothing “average.” No single value that summarizes her or classifies her as generally significant. She far exceeds any mathematical label or quantifying therein.

I am not always so kind with myself.

When I look into the eyes staring back at me in the mirror, I am sometimes tempted to use that word. Average seems a good median to balance out the times when I’ve gotten it very right and the occasions when I’ve lived it very wrong. And while I’m not content to allow my daughter this kind of labeling, all too often I am content to wear it as my name tag. It may not stick on me in the “visible” for others to see, but when given room and stage enough to shout its witness within the interior of my soul, my “average” moves outward.

“For out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks” (Matthew 12:34).

My mouth spoke it last night. Casually at first; more painfully as the night wore on. I am not past the moment, friends. I’ve wrestled with it all night and into these morning hours. The sun has given its exclamation to a new day, and the Son has given his exclamation to a new and living way. A way that walks in truth and that leaves no room for talk of “general significance” or one “single value that summarizes.”

There’s nothing general about God and his love for his created people, no one single sin that summarizes the whole. When we lower the standard on ourselves, when “average” becomes the label rather than the righteousness that belongs to us as children of the Most High God, then we demean the grace of the cross. Christ’s blood bled far too costly and too red to allow us a meager labeling of ourselves. What he did there canceled out human averaging. What he did there exponentially exceeded the worst of human sin, thus allowing every believing heart a labeling beyond the “average.”

Redeemed. Forgiven. Beloved. Accepted. Treasured. Righteous. Sought After. Living Temple. Heir. Friend. Light. Overcomer. Mighty Warrior. Holy. Consecrated. Treasure-Keeper. Truth-Teller. Grace-Dispenser.

Indeed, there is nothing “average” about the labels that Christ intends for us to wear. On our own and left to personal averaging along these lines, we’ll never do enough good to cancel out our bad so as to move us from our mediocrity. But when Jesus and his atoning sacrifice are added to the paltry lot we bring to the table, then our “general significance” takes a bow to our eternal significance. With salvation we put to death the former self in order to walk with God’s new labels, none of which root in “average”; all of which root in the Divine.

And so, today I wrestle with my labels. I think back on the previous night’s conversation, and I am touched by a daughter who sees something in me that I rarely see in myself. She sees someone she wants to be; she doesn’t remember all the times I’ve gotten it wrong. She simply and lovingly remembers all the times I’ve lived it right. She sees beyond my “average,” and I am thankful today for the reminder of heaven’s grace that has come to me through her adoration. May it come to you as well.

Don’t let a single value—a single sin or past regret—summarize your steps this day. You are not generally significant to our God. You are extraordinarily contemplated, crafted and designed to hold the life-giving pulse of God’s Spirit within your feeble flesh. And that, fellow pilgrims, bumps you up from your average status into excellence.

Excellent. Wear God’s label well; live it all the more. By his strength, I will live the same. As always…

peace for the journey,
~elaine

PS: I won’t be around here for a few days; I’ll want to be here, but I have a great many preparations to make for our upcoming Bible study, a retreat to attend, and some writing to do in my current WIP. I’ll be back next week with more of our “breakfast on the beach with Jesus.” Until then, may God’s love for you and joy over you move you past your “average” into his “excellence.” Shalom.

Breakfast on the Beach with Jesus (part one): doing what we do

January 20, 2010

“Afterward Jesus appeared again to his disciples, by the Sea of Tiberias. It happened this way: Simon Peter, Thomas (called Didymus), Nathanael from Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two other disciples were together. ‘I’m going out to fish,’ Simon Peter told them, and they said, ‘We’ll go with you.’ (John 21:1-3).

I’ve been pondering this passage for a long season. It grips me in so many ways from so many different angles. John 21 is chock full of meaty information, rich fodder for pulpits willing to preach it and bookstores willing to stock it. I imagine you have been privy to as much as I have along these lines. Collectively, we’ve probably “heard” it all over the years. Hearing has never been our problem. Our problem is absorption, a problem James clearly identifies as a “looking at our faces in the mirror, then quickly forgetting what we look like” kind of problem (James 1:23-25).

We hear the Word, but do we do the Word? Do we allow it absorption into our hearts so that our nourishment therein exacts a result in the process?

Guilty as charged; thus, my wanting to do the Word better… to live it better. Not for “doing’s” sake, but rather for kingdom’s sake—for moving onward and upward toward holiness and my perfection. Along those lines, I’m going to be fleshing out some thoughtful considerations via my pen. Writing those considerations often solidifies them in my heart. To ponder without putting any action behind that pondering is a waste of time for me, for I am woefully prone to my forgetting. But to frame that pondering with some words… well, chances are I’ll remember it, at least have it at my fingertips for recall down the road.

I keep a file folder on my desk that is filled with previous thoughts I’ve scribbled down on particular Biblical topics—skeletal thoughts that need some corresponding “flesh” at some point down the road. After perusing my folder’s contents yesterday, I came across three stapled sheets worth of thoughts that I had written back in the fall and now duly labeled with a sticky note that simply said “breakfast.”

And so I begin with that one word and what it means within the context of this passage and, correspondingly, what it means within the context of my soul. I do not live in isolation from this story. I wasn’t there as it occurred in living color; neither were you. But we live it today, even as the disciples lived it 2000 years ago. That’s the powerful witness of God’s sustaining Word. It never grows tired or empty or void of purpose. It is an accomplishing, active Word intended for our transformation in 2010.

And so I begin… with breakfast.

With breaking my “fast” from Jesus. Truly, if we only gleaned one “teaching” from John 21, this one is enough to bring hope to a heart that is longing for intimate fellowship with the Divine. John 21 has less to do with the route we take to “get to Jesus” and more to do with the route he takes to “get to us.” No one comes to the Father except through him (John 14:6). We think differently most days… we think it’s all about us and the steps we take to get to Jesus, and, indeed, there is great wealth that comes to us because of our posturing our hearts toward that end. But all of our posturing and managing of our schedules to get to Jesus means very little if he isn’t already there as we arrive. Jesus understands, better than us, our need to break our fast from him. Accordingly and faithfully, he sets a table over some hot coals, preparing for our presence, even though our presence remains off shore and, most days, unaware of our great need for his sustenance.

“It happened this way…” (oh, I can barely get past those four words, for they speak a message all their own—something about the authenticity of God’s Word and his wanting us to know the exact details of how this moment in Scripture actually “went down”)…

Simon and a few others had gathered in their grief, in their moments beyond the witness of the empty grave, yet unable to move forward with much of anything simply because that “much” wasn’t as clearly defined as they needed it to be.

Ever been there? Ever stood on the other side of Christ’s resurrecting truth, yet felt completely overwhelmed by the revelation and your responsibility therein? In our need for quick understanding, we reason that Peter and the others should have known what to do with the resurrecting truth of their Lord… should have immediately taken its witness and began in the unpacking of its merits to those walking around with deficient understanding. But Christ’s work in them—his directional “next” for them—had yet to be clearly defined. Emotional chaos was their compass, and is so often the case when emotions chart our course, we default to doing the one thing we’re most comfortable doing.

For Peter it was fishing; for us, a great many other “doings.” It’s natural, even reasonable for us to land in a place of “comfortable” while sorting out our emotions and our determinations regarding what to do with the weighty revelation of Calvary. Christ understands our chaos, even as he understood the disciples’ chaos so long ago. He stands ringside and watches it unfold, even as he stokes the fires of a breakfast that will yield the answers… the peace… the directional good our hearts are hungering for.

Long before we ever hold those answers as our own, our Savior tenderly cradles them as his own. Thoughtfully, he places them over burning embers, tending to them and cooking them to completion, so that when our feet find their way to the beach, there is food enough to fill the gnawing ache that has consumed us in the night.

As we default to doing what we naturally do in times of confusion, Jesus Christ defaults to doing what he always does, despite our confusion. He prepares a table of rich intimacy for us that will not only feed us, but that will gradually transform us for his high and holy purposes.

God sees us in our “doing” this day, friends. We may not be aware of his watchful glances from the shore, but he finds us, no matter our doings, no matter the chaos going on around us. And for some incredible reason beyond my understanding, he loves me still, despite my lack of awareness regarding the breakfast that he’s cooking on my behalf and the table he’s preparing in anticipation of my arrival to shore.

Christ’s preparations for intimate fellowship and sacred discipleship exceed ours. In fact, his preparations precede ours. We may come to the table thinking that our obedience is what yields the filling of our stomachs; but the truth is, our Savior has been up all night preparing for the feast, waiting for the moment when we will break our fast and dine in his presence.

Today, as we go about “doing what we do” and Christ goes about “doing what he does”, let us be mindful of the sacred intersection between the two. If you haven’t stepped on shore today to break your fast from Jesus, know that his fire burns in eager anticipation for your arrival and with ample food to satisfy your hungering need.

I know. He’s fed me well this morning.

As always…

peace for the journey,

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on "going public" with Jesus…

January 17, 2010

“As soon as Jesus was baptized, he went up out of the water. At that moment heaven was opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and lighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, ‘This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.’” (Matthew 3:16-17).

Today we celebrated “the Baptism of the Lord” in our worship service. I didn’t know that this particular event in Jesus’ life received a Sunday all its own, even though I’ve been doing this “liturgical” dance with the Methodists all of my life. Christ’s baptism certainly is worthy of remembrance as are all his moments, but this one in particular marked the beginning of something special.

It marked Christ’s beginning journey to the cross—his public ministry on this earth. What began in the Jordan would climax at Calvary. When John baptized Jesus in keeping with the fulfillment of Scripture, God introduced his Son to the world with a few words of sacred commendation. With his affirming love and with his “well-pleased.” The Holy Spirit lighted upon Jesus in the form of a dove, empowering him to walk the earthly road assigned to him.

Today, my preacher (a.k.a. “my man”) admonished us to “remember our baptism” as well. To acknowledge that moment from our past when we first “went public” with the grace of God. My public moment came as a young adolescent, kneeling at the altar railing of the Wilmore United Methodist Church. Dr. David Seamands spoke the moment over me. I remember my white dress, the one I desperately searched for because it was so very important to me to look pure—to be adorned in white raiment in keeping with the sacred occasion. A few friends joined me at the altar that day. They other details have long since faded from memory, but I do remember thinking that this occasion was something more than in keeping with religious protocol. It was a day that marked the beginning of something bigger in my own journey… a walk to the cross of sorts, where my heart and life identified with the heart and life of Jesus Christ at a deeper level.

Long before I ever felt the “wetness” of Dr. Seamands’ hands upon my head, God’s grace was working on my behalf. There has never been a time in my life when Jesus wasn’t real to me. He’s always been present; always been part of my thoughts. He began the sacred conversation with my soul at the earliest of ages. It continues to this day, and I cannot imagine my life without him.

I suppose there have been seasons when I tried… tried to live free from him. Times when I deliberately chose flesh over faith, but even in those moments of willful rebellion, the conversation continued. Muffled some days because of my freely chosen decisions, but present nonetheless. Jesus Christ has kept me, friends, all the days of my forty-three years. He is the reason I have peace in my heart. He is the reason I gather with the saints on a Sunday morning to reflect and remember, rejoice and relive the single truth that has claimed me and transformed me.

Today I remembered Christ’s baptism. I remembered my own. I dipped my hand into the water and clutched remembrance to my chest. I knelt at the altar again and considered my “long ago and far away.” I considered Christ’s as well, and I was thankful for his “entering into” that Jordan River so that I could, one day, enter into my very own moment of “going public” with God.

Please don’t misunderstand me. Baptism, for me, exceeds religious practice. I understand the huge denominational divide that separates our views along these lines. I simply don’t get hung up on it. God’s grace and his Son’s moment at the Jordan are too big to allow me to linger in my limited understanding therein. Some of you are dearly devoted to Jesus Christ and have never had a moment of “going public” with your heart. No water has sprinkled its wetness upon your head; your body hasn’t been submerged in a baptistery, much less the Jordan River. Let me assure you of this…

You are no less precious in our Father’s eyes. If Christ has entered into your broken and weary estate, if you have received him as your Lord and Savior, then you have “gone public” with your Jesus. You have been baptized with the renewing power of his Holy Spirit. When it comes to the matter of our hearts, we answer only to One. And if your heart belongs to the King, then all of heaven rejoices and bends low to offer their chorused applause. Your wetness on the inside far exceeds any public display of “wet” on the outside.

Does that mean that “baptism” is nothing, that it accomplishes nothing, isn’t important or not an appropriate response to the working of the Holy Spirit within us? Not at all. Baptism is an outward and visible sign of an inward working of grace. It is one of the ways we “go public” with our Jesus and our profession of faith. And I happen to believe that “going public” with Jesus is always in keeping with his plans for the crucified life. A life that identifies, in part, with the Savior who went public with his commitment to the cross so that you and I could better walk our commitment accordingly.

Today I remembered my baptism, I remembered Christ’s as well. Tomorrow I pray to remember the same—to never walk a single day without the grace of Calvary pulsing through my veins. I want my life to be the lavish expression of the life that he lived and breathed and walked and surrendered some 2000 years ago on my behalf. To offer any less to him, is to live less. And the last time I checked, “less” didn’t fit with God’s agenda of more.

It’s been a long time since my “long ago and far away” moment of “going public” with Jesus. There are few remaining persons in my life who actually remember that moment. I don’t imagine they think on it very often. The water that poured down my head has long since dried up, and the godly man who put it there? Well, he walked home to Jesus not long ago. But there is One who thinks on it very often. His memory is clear, and his rejoicing still resounds throughout all of heaven to announce that I am his, that his working grace continues on my behalf, and that the indwelling power of his Holy Spirit has found a good and spacious rest within my soul.

{lisa leonard designs}

I am the living temple of God’s living Spirit. So are you. In wearing him, we wear our “going public” display of his witness for all the world to see.

Wear your baptism this week, friends. Remember it well, and walk it into a world that needs the pulse of Calvary moving through its midst. As always…

peace for the journey,

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PS: Friends, please refrain from allowing our comments to become a heated debate regarding the practice of baptism. This is not my intent with this post, but rather to allow us remembrance and reflection regarding the importance of wearing our “baptism”–whatever that has been for us–as a living witness to the world. Shalom.

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