living God’s truth | Elaine Olsen

a tender ache

December 16, 2009

My heart is completely sad—full of a tender ache that exceeds understanding.

But let me rewind to a week ago, where it all began, even though I wasn’t privy to the beginning; only to the heart-stirrings of a young daughter who didn’t forget to remember her.

Her.

The woman from my “by the grace of God next time” post. Perhaps you remember her as well. I first encountered her five months ago—the memory of that day as fresh now as it was then. Her brokenness intersected with my compassion, and we shared a sandwich and some fellowship outside a Bed, Bath, and Beyond store on a hot July afternoon.

I’ve not forgotten her; just buried her a bit beneath the urgency of the moments that bombard my daily existence. Daughter hasn’t forgotten her either; from time to time she asks about her. Last week she asked about her again.

“Mommy, I wonder if your friend Gayle will get any presents this Christmas? I wonder if she has a place to sleep tonight? Do you think she’s hungry? Could she come live with us?”

“I don’t have the answers, baby, but we could pray for her… pray that God takes good care of her this Christmas and that maybe he would allow us to run into her again.”

We did pray and then said our good-nights. I thought a lot about Gayle over the next twenty-four hours, and then buried her again beneath my busyness. That was until yesterday morning when I nearly ran her over with my van.

I never take my children to school; Billy assumes that role, but the kitchen counter guys were coming, and I don’t do “guys” in my house all by myself. Thus, I offered him a trade–my taxi services for his overseeing of home improvement. After dropping my kids off, I decided to make a quick run to the McDonald’s drive-thru for a biscuit. The four-lane road was packed with the usual morning traffic, moving slow enough to force my irritation. It was then that I saw her sauntering between those four lanes, making her way, it seemed, to McDonald’s as well.

After making a hasty swing into a parking space and dashing indoors, I found Gayle sitting alone at a corner booth. I re-introduced myself and asked her if I could buy her breakfast. She heartily agreed, and then she amply consumed. Knowing that God was calling me to further interaction, I offered Gayle a ride to the place where she was staying; she said she was living at a local motel not far from our location.

We made a quick detour to a local store for some clothing and toiletries before heading “home” to Gayle’s temporary shelter. Upon arrival, I quickly surmised that Gayle had nothing to call her own at this motel—only a recent stay that left the owner questioning whether or not she should be allowed to stay there again. He finally agreed and gave me a reduced rate for two nights with the understanding that Gayle was not to smoke in the room.

I signed my name to the receipt and then drove her to the designated location at the back of the motel—an isolated locale away from the other “guests.” We unpacked her purchases, had a prayer together, and then hugged our good-byes. As I drove away, Gayle was heading back through an alley way to the front of the motel to secure some ice for the Pepsi liter I had purchased.

My heart was fragile in those moments; so much so, that I didn’t notice the commotion going on around me at the motel. I only noticed the empty rooms on the backside of the motel, an open door to one of those rooms, and the gaunt figure of my new friend in search of some ice. I spent the rest of my Monday in contemplative hurt for the entire situation. I couldn’t quite put parameters around my feelings, wasn’t quite sure as to the “underpinning” of my strong emotions, but I felt them… all day.

And then this morning, after dropping our kids off at school, my husband called to tell me about a report he’d just heard on the radio. A double homicide at the very same motel my friend called “home.”

Yesterday, somewhere in the neighborhood of 10:00 AM (the exact time I was unpacking Gayle and leaving the premises), a couple was found shot in their room—employees of the motel, family to the manager that I had spoken with earlier. A couple in their 60’s; apparently, they lived there, worked there, died there—most likely a robbery to blame for their deaths.

I’ve spoken with the police twice today about the details of my excursion to the motel. Thankfully, Gayle is safe. The police told me that she was still carrying her ice bucket around when they spoke with her last evening. Thankfully, I am safe as well. Funny thing, in all my interactions yesterday morning, never once was I scared, felt threatened by my environment, or worried at all about the details of my interactions with Gayle. It wasn’t until I left her that my heart began to experience an extreme heaviness—the weight of our encounter.

Today I better understand the reason for that weightiness.

Evil.

Pure and prevalent and within reach of where my feet walked yesterday morning. Two dead, less than ten doors down from me… close to me, yet kept from me.

And my heart is completely sad because of it all.

For Gayle. For the couple who were needlessly slain. For the manager, who moments just beyond our encounter, would learn of his relatives untimely demise. For everyone tonight who sleeps without a roof; for those who sleep with one knowing that come check-out time tomorrow, they’ll be back at it again—panhandling for another night’s rest, another day’s food.

Tonight as I sat around my dinner table with my family, the tears poured down my cheeks. The food wasn’t the richest of fare; we live on a budget, and with Christmas just around the corner, there isn’t always the extra we’d like. But we’re satisfied, and we’re safe, and Lord willing, we won’t have to worry about where we’re going to lay our heads for the next season. According to the world’s standards, we are richer than most, and yet my heart is completely saddened by it all. There is a gnawing discontentment that roots deeply within, and I’m wondering what to do with it.

I am exceedingly grateful for all that I’ve been given, but I’m a bit sickened by the disparity that exists between my good and Gayle’s. It doesn’t sit well with me, and while I’d never in a million years want to be her, I imagine she’s thought at least a million times that she’d like to me be… be you.

Be someone who matters to someone else; be loved and cherished by a good man, adored and dutifully honored by her four children. She’s not there yet; I don’t envision that she ever will be. But I am, and my heart is completely saddened because of it.

For her. For my world. For those who’ve never known the truth of the kingdom that is intended for their gain, their ownership, their joyous impartation.

I don’t know if justice will ever roll down for Gayle on this side of eternity. I wish that it would… that in some large way she’d find deliverance at the hands of her Father. But my feeling tonight is that she will have to wait. And that wait is the saddest lingering I can imagine. To not know freedom here but to have to wait for it until her arrival “there,” is a long, arduous, and depleting journey to get home. I hope she makes it.

I am haunted by my experience, friends; this one this time around will not bury soon. I suppose God intends for it to simmer until next time, and I can honestly say this evening, I’m not sure my heart can handle a next time. Not sure I want a next time.

I prayed for a next time back in July. God gave it to me yesterday. And now, I don’t have clue what to do with it—with Gayle and the holy rest of them who walk a similar path.

An odd Christmas ache, friends, that has found its way to my heart this year. It’s found its way to our Savior’s as well; and somewhere between the two—the ache and the heart—Christmas tells its story all over again. It shouts its everlasting witness.

Its glory; its gain; its good; its grace.

And therein, my tender ache finds the smallest inkling of some peace…

for the journey.

Thanks for listening; thanks for praying as you will. May God show himself faithful to the cries of the saints this night. I love you each one.

homecourt advantage…

December 13, 2009

His words made me cry this morning.

He told me, along with the surrounding congregation, that I was his “home court advantage.” That no matter how dreary the many matters surrounding him in his outside life become, at the end of the day, I was his safe harbor. His cheerleader; his anchor; his best defense against his critics.

It’s hard to think of my husband having any critics. If you’ve ever met my man, then you would heartily agree. Never have I known a more compassionate, loving individual whose willingness to lay down his heart and life for just about anybody far surpasses the norm. Truly, the love of God resides in his inner being.

He’s…

A giver, not a taker.
An encourager, not a “deflater.”
A healer, not a wounder.
A lover, not a fighter.
A defender, not an offender.
A faith walker, not just a faith talker.
A mature man, not an infant.
A forgiver, not a grudge-keeper.
A “do-er,” not just a listener.
A pastor, not just a preacher.
A father, not just a sperm-donor.
A husband, not a controller.

So much of what he is, is what I am not. I suppose this is main reason God decided to grace my life with Billy’s. He knew, better than me, just what I needed at just the right time… just in time.

I nearly gave my heart and years to another the second time around. What a disaster that would have been. But God reached down into my dreariness and drew me out; set my feet on higher ground and set my sights in a better direction—a course that would push my feet along a path that would eventually intersect with the path of a man named Billy on his way to becoming a preacher named accordingly.

Preacher Billy.

There’s none finer. And that’s the truth of the matter.

So when the critics arrive as they have arrived in recent days, their “truth” holds little water on my turf. I’m a home-team gal with a whole lot of home-team pride surging through my veins. Sometimes I wish my man would let me in the rink to go a round or two on his behalf; he’s certainly stood in the rink for me on a number of occasions and has the scars to prove it.

But his “better” usually wins out over my “bitter”, and I’m reminded, once again, of why I need him so much.

He forces the issue of my faith. He pushes me to my perfection. He understands the greater gain that can come from a surrender rather than from a frontal assault. He is my knight in shining armor, and I am his damsel in distress. He’s saved me from myself, time and again, and pulled me through the dark forest into the marvelous light of an extraordinary kingdom.

I don’t know how long our lives will extend together on this planet—how much time God will grant us to live our love story—but with my dying breath, I will still be cheering his name.

It’s what a home-team wife does… how a home-team family lives.

You’ve found your home court advantage with us, Preacher Billy. We love you more than words can write; you make our lives a place where we want to live. Thank you for giving your heart to us on a hot July afternoon almost thirteen years ago.

Only God could have known the depth of what that would mean for all of us.

Only God could love us that much.

It’s you and me, babe, from this day forward, through to forever. The line has been drawn, and I know where I stand. How grateful and humbled I am to call you, not only my preacher, but most importantly, my man.

I love you…

~elaine

PS: The winner of Alicia Chole’s book, Intimate Conversations, was drawn by my daughter this afternoon…Congrats, Denise at Free to be Me. Please send me your snail mail, and I’ll get this to you in time to put it under your tree! Shalom.

wisdom through words

December 11, 2009

One of the greatest gifts that has come to me over the years is often void of a price tag—at least not one calculated in dollars and cents. It may have cost the giver greatly because such a gift usually issues forth from a place of deep understanding often brought about through great suffering.

The gift?

Wisdom through words.

I’ve lived long enough with humanity and bared my soul openly enough therein to realize that not everyone within earshot harbors the gift of wisdom. A rare few possess its strength. I’ve developed some filters along these lines, carefully gauging my pursuit for depth of insight. I’m not quick to trust others with the “answers” I seek. That, in itself, has been a painful lesson to learn, for not everyone I’ve consulted along the way has my best interest in mind. Good intentions, perhaps, but not intention based on the absolute truth of the absolute God.

Thus, before consulting others for advice, I’ve learned to bring my concerns to the Father. He always has my best interest in mind. Accordingly, he has selectively allowed a few individuals to intersect my life with their Godly wisdom and influence. These are the people I trust with my heart… my best interest. Some of them I know personally; some of them I will never meet. Some have preceded me in death; some are currently living but not circulating within my physical realm of contact. All of them, however, share a common thread.

Wisdom through words.

Perhaps more than any other mode of “influence” that works in and through me and, therefore, eventually out of me is wisdom given to me in the form of words. A simple phrase woven with integrity and depth enough to solidify a change of heart—a new way of viewing life, doing life. When my personal perspective shifts in an alternate direction—a right and good direction (and I can almost feel it happening in real time as if a switch is being manipulated)—peace and assurance quickly find their way to my spirit. I am grateful for words that change me, and the more intentional I am about finding them, the more intentional they become about finding me.

I found some words not long ago; in turn, they’ve been working their way in me and through me, and hopefully out of me in some small measure. They came to me via one of my favorite authors, Alicia Chole. Her recent devotional book, Intimate Conversations, is chock-full of devotional pause and contemplative thought (two of my favorite pastimes). In one of her devotions entitled “Near Not Far,” she shares regarding some personal wisdom that arrived in her own heart at a leadership conference through the speaker, Dr. George O. Wood. His advice?

“Focus your vision on what is small not big; what is near not far.” [Alicia Chole, Intimate Conversations (Grand Rapids: Revell, 2009), 150.]

Read those words again slowly to absorb the depth of what God might be saying to you through them.

For Alicia, and for me, it means personally tending to those things, those people, who are within reach. Those activities and lives that can be physically touched by our immediate influence. It sounds relatively simple, “matter of fact” and, perhaps, an obvious approach to daily living. However, the true fact of the matter is that most of us don’t live there, don’t tend to the dailyness of our lives. Most of us live abroad—out there and unaware of the importance behind our everyday “things” and everyday people.

I can only write that last statement because I’ve lived that last statement. Time and again, my focus strays outward believing that the important “stuff” resides somewhere beyond the four walls and the small life that belongs to me. I’ve been a dismal failure in these regards in many seasons of my life. I’ve allowed the lure of “otherness” to rob me of the tangible moments that can best receive my influence—my wisdom and understanding. Otherness is just that. Other things, other people, other ministries, other opportunities that belong to others; not me.

That doesn’t mean I don’t engage with “otherness” when otherness presents itself as an option; it simply and profoundly means that otherness isn’t the driving focus behind my dailyness. Rather, current living, current situations, current people are. They are the stuff of my “small and near”—the tangible touches within reach intended for my greatest investment. When I take the time to devote myself to the “small and near,” then seeds are planted for a future gain that harvests “big and far.” I may not be around to see it all come to fruition, but my seeing it isn’t my goal.

Seeding it is. Doing the work of the kingdom, believing that what is sown today in the “small and near” matters for all of eternity.

It’s taken me a long season to get there… to come to a place of accepting the routine of my life that seemingly proffers more in the “small” rather than the “large.” But through the wisdom of others and the power of God’s Spirit living within me, I am moving closer toward accepting what my life has to offer me. And the last time I checked in with my life, it wasn’t half bad. In fact, it is quite good. Very good.

Wisdom through words.

How thankful I am for those who write them and who live them all the more.

May God continue to invest the power of wise words, his and others’, into our lives as we are faithful in our intentions to seek them out. Have a blessed weekend ministering to your “small and near,” friends. I’ll see you on the other side of mine. As always…

peace for the journey,

~elaine

PS: Hear a bit of Alicia’s heart regarding Intimate Conversations, and leave a comment regarding your “small and near” for an opportunity to win a copy of the book.

adoring faith…

December 9, 2009

Faith.

Mine has been challenged as of late. My spirit has been burdened by a great many things in recent weeks. I suppose the challenge to my faith has always been there—alive and present within me. But as I’ve paid closer attention to faith’s cultivation, to its proving genuine in my life from the “inside-out” rather than the other way around, I’ve noticed a shift in the temperature. The heat is on, and God is in charge of the thermostat.

Anytime one makes a commitment to growth in and with Jesus Christ, God’s going to run with it—all the way through to a good and final finish. When we put our hands to the plow and our hearts to the task of personal sacred transformation, God is faithful to do the same. His hands and his heart operate from pure intention, and he, better than us, understands the length and breadth and depth of what is required to “fit us for heaven to live with him there.”

When we offer our lives to the refining fires of faith, we make a costly surrender. Rarely will it be a smooth ride; instead, it will be a journey fraught with difficulty. Not because our Father delights in our pain, but rather because he delights in our perfection—in our drawing ever closer to his image. Thus, he takes the dailyness of our routine and interjects it with ample opportunities for faith’s cultivation.

We can squander them, or we can throw out the welcome mat to them believing that their entrance into our lives is good training ground for kingdom come.

I don’t know about you, but I want some kingdom come in my life, friends. Some “down the road” kind of glory that shines with the witness of a life that matures with the struggles rather than breaks down beneath their strain. I don’t want these past few weeks in my life to “read” as wasted, unaccounted for, needless and without purpose. Instead, I want God to strengthen me with his power, his resolve, his might, and his fierce determination to make it all count.

I may not like the “tests,” but I adore the One who allows them their work in me. I hang onto that truth when nothing else makes sense and the pain of it all nearly scatters my faith to the wind. Nearly. When my faith threatens its retreat, when it screams its resistance and its questions all the more, I cling to this anchor that has held me, kept me, grounded me, and sustained me through some of the darkest seasons of my journey.

The one fact that doesn’t retreat, doesn’t resist, doesn’t ask questions.

I adore my Father.

I don’t always understand him, but I adore him. I can’t always hear him, but I adore him. I may not always be able to see him, touch him, feel him or find him, but I always adore him. And because of that I adoration, I choose to bow to him. I choose to fall forward rather than backward. To look ahead instead of behind. To believe that today’s adoration is enough to carry me through to tomorrow’s continuation of the same, and that whatever agenda finds its way into my faith’s cultivation, it won’t be enough to shake my adulation of the Divine.

I may not have the certainty and surety of how this season in my life is going to finish, but I am certain of my adoration for the One who will finish it with me. And, perhaps, that adoration says more about my faith than I currently understand. Perhaps my faith is stronger, more potent and more vibrant than it currently feels.

Perhaps adoration is the precursor for exponential growth in and with Jesus Christ.

If so, then I’m on my way to something bigger, friends. Something grander. Something far beyond what my faith presently believes. Tonight, I’m anchored in my adoration for my King. I cannot escape my love for him; I can only give in to it and offer it to him as the best and truest witness of my heart. All else may burn to ashes, but my love for God remains.

From today until tomorrow. From this year until the next. From now until forever.

I adore my God. Thus, I pray…

Thank you, Father, for being so easy to love. For the certainty of my adoration toward you that weathers my faith’s cultivation. I cannot explain the depth of what I feel for you. It precedes sense and surpasses human understanding. I am thankful for its continuing anchor in my heart that solidifies my progression toward you and that answers all of the doubts I have concerning my refining process. Keep me to my adoration, to my love and to my worship of you, despite the many challenges to my faith. Faith, hope, and love remain, but the greatest of these (for me and according to your Word) will always be love. Let my love for you be the guiding light to lead me home. Amen.

~elaine

enough…

December 7, 2009

I tucked her under my arm and drew her close to my heart as I whispered,

This is enough, God. This is enough. This is real love… true love; love not based on performance or preference but loved based on personhood… on the truth that I am her mother and that fact, alone, is enough to warrant her affection.

Thank God she doesn’t wait until I get it right—until I jump through enough hoops or stroke her ego in hopes of negotiating her favor. She gives me her favor regardless. She loves me, most days in spite of me, because God has put it in heart to do so. He’s put it in the hearts of my other children as well.

I am a well-loved mother. A well-loved wife. A well-loved daughter. God has surrounded me with a select circle of connections to remind me, in part, of his unconditional love toward me. Through them, I come to better understand God’s “enough.” His enough continually spills forth on my behalf because I am his child, his created delight, his joy and his crown. Never once has he forgotten me, neglected me, forsaken or abandoned me.

God’s love isn’t based on my performance or on his personal preferences, but rather based on my personhood… on the truth that I am his child and that fact, alone, is enough to warrant his everlasting affection toward me.

God loves me because it is in heart to do so, and tonight I am grateful for his unchanging nature and all-powerful ability to keep to the task of loving me, preferring me, especially on days when it seems that the world prefers otherwise. Today, I stand on the truth of who I am in Jesus Christ.

Loved.
Chosen.
Adored.
Preferred.
Royal.
Dear.
Heiress.
Forgiven.
Beautiful.
Righteous.
Needed.
Longed for.
Bride.

This is who you are as well. The world may beg to differ, may stand in line to voice otherwise. I understand. But rather than believing them, would you be willing, even as I am willing, to cast those lies into the pit of hell where they belong and, instead, cloak ourselves with the mantle of what our King has to say in the matter? His witness is the one that counts, friends, not the testimonies of those whose “love” for us is tainted by fleshly focus and personal preferences.

We will never be able to exceed people’s expectations of us. Most days, we’ll fall quite short of what they want, but with Jesus, we find our balance. We exceed human expectation because his expectations for us aren’t based on us, but rather on his Spirit living within us. And when we walk in cooperation with his Spirit, when we understand that “greater is he that is in us than he that is in the world,” then we are able to walk above and beyond the expectations that are being leveled in our direction.

True love comes from God. Every now and again, we taste it via humanity. Most often, though, we miss is because of humanity. If we’re not careful, we’ll “live” there… settle in there, instead of settling in the place of sacred understanding. This is a dismal response to the truth of what God intends for our lives.

I want to love truly. I want to be truly loved. I want to love God’s way; I want to be loved God’s way. And while I cannot control the loving responses of others, with God’s help, I can control mine. I want my love to be enough for my children, my spouse, my friends, my world. I want them and you to be able to tuck my love in tightly and voice it as enough—as comforting, as peaceful, as certain, and as re-assuring as you need it to be.

I don’t want to base my love for you on your performance or my personal preferences; instead, I want the fact of your personhood—your “created in the image of God” status—to be the basis for my affection. I’m not fully there, but I am working on it. By God’s grace and through his Spirit, true love will become my norm rather than my exception.

It’s been a hard day to love, friends. At this point, I’m not sure how to move beyond my feelings, but I am confident of this…

I’ve got a family who loves me, and a God who loves me all the more, and it is enough to carry me through the night. The sun will rise in the morning to bring its witness to the day, and the Son will rise in my heart to bring his witness to my authenticity.

And that is enough. He is enough.

Living in his enough this night…

PS: I need your help… ASAP… I scrolled back through some of my previous older posts (from August of this year backward and am noticing that my comments are being deleted by someone). I have a suspicion it’s coming from a URL in Mountainview, California. I’m not sure this is a blogger issue or not, but if this is coming from another hacker, I’m on to you and will continue to pursue this until I get an answer. Anyone else having this issue?

Category Archives: living God’s truth