living God’s truth | Elaine Olsen

Lunching with the Ancients

August 13, 2008

For my Tuesday ancients. I’ve written of you before, but today you caught my heart again. I love you all!

“Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. This is what the ancients were commended for.” (Hebrew 11:1-2).

I ate with the ancients today.

Now before anyone takes offense, you need to know that by my calling them “ancient,” I do so in the spirit of Hebrews 11:2.

Ancient. Presbuteros meaning “elder; of age; the elder of two people; advanced in life; a senior.”[i] And in the context of the scripture, an elder bearing the witness of a life built on the solid foundation of faith.

Yep. Those are my ancients—women seasoned with the grey and the wisdom of walking a long life with Jesus. We are in our fifth year of “doing lunch” on Tuesdays. We began gathering upon my family’s arrival to this community, and rarely have we missed a week in that time.

I seek them out wherever I go. The ancients. I suppose it won’t be long until others might consider me as one of theirs. It is a label I will humbly accept, for to be numbered alongside my ancients of today and the pilgrims in Hebrews 11 is, indeed, an honorable tribute.

The pilgrims that gathered today walk deep. On the surface, we may seem a little shallow, for rare is the occasion void of our laughter. We do our fair share of discussing politics, current events, doctor’s visits, and offering up of ideas on how to “fix” the problems in our church. Mostly, I just listen to their thoughts, and I am glad to do so, for they have stored up a lifetime of memories worthy of my pause.

But underlying all of our chatter, there runs a sacred thread of a well-spun truth that anchors us all to the table and keeps us coming back every Tuesday for more.

Faith, and the certainty of things therein.

For all of the changes that flood their current, there are a few things they would voice as certain. Things like…

This life is full of pain.
This life is full of joy.
This life is but a breath.
This life is not the end.
This life is to be celebrated because…
This life is a gift from God.

I bet that you have lived long enough to voice a few of these certainties as your own. It takes awhile to come to some conclusions in these matters. Our youthful immaturity and need for reasoned parameters often prohibits our clarity.

When pain is our present, it’s hard to reason the joy. When life fades to the certainty of death, it’s difficult to vision beyond the grave. And when celebration goes unnoticed—seemingly forgotten and pushed under because the urgent and desperate blankets the party with wet—well, life unwraps more like a tragedy rather than the sacred wrapping of a gracious God.

Indeed, it takes years of well-worn living to reach some conclusions in this matter called faith. My ancients have lived those years.

Some years have authored sad. Since moving here, three of my friends have buried husbands. One of them has buried a son. All of us have walked to the grave on behalf of loved ones—friends, family and one of our own named Maxine. Many have been escorted to the hospital because their bodies have betrayed them. Surgeries and procedures have been their portion. There are tears and remembrances a plenty that speak the witness of such sadness.

Some years have authored joy. Untold numbers of marriages and babies and graduations and birthdays have passed through their hands in our time together. There have been parties, vacations, and family reunions enough to fill a scrapbook the size of heaven. There are pictures and newspaper clippings that speak the witness of such treasured milestones.

My ancients know about years and about the threading the weaves them together. They know Jesus, and they are wild and wonderful and just on the other side of “crazy enough” to believe that He is the one who holds the needle that sews them ever closer to their eternal home.

They walk toward heaven, not from it. And if they harbor any fear in the matter, they keep it from me. Somehow, they realize that their faith, their hope, and their certainty about the season soon to come are needed commodities in a world that suffers from self-centeredness and short-sighted visioning. They’ve lived long enough to get over their bitter, to live with the unanswerable, and to surrender their need for control.

They simply live by faith, and not by sight. And they would all tell you that this is a really good way to live, considering that their temporal vision seems to fade with the passage of time. They have caught the vision of their forever, and that, my friends, is reason enough to lunch with the ancients every Tuesday.

I need to see, and they need to color the sacred canvas of their witness while the brush is yet strong and the paint is still wet. Like the saints of Hebrews 11, theirs is a portrait worthy of the throne room of heaven, and thus I pray this night with tenderness in my heart,

Thank you, Father, for surrounding my life with the ancients on Tuesdays. They breathe the witness of faith unlike any other women with whom I share my life. You knew I needed them, Lord, and with gratitude I accept their influence in my life. Script my heart with the certainty, hope, and faith in the truth of who You are. They are sure of their tomorrow. Let my life breathe with the same measure. And when we all finally reach our home with You in heaven, it sure would be nice to have a Tuesday table with our names on it. Please tell Maxine that we won’t be long in coming. Amen.

[i] http://studylight.org/desk/view.cgi?number=4245

~elaine

I would love to hear about the “ancients” who surround your life. If you don’t have any, find some! They are a treasure trove waiting to be discovered. Shalom.

Shifting Seasons

August 11, 2008

“To everything there is a season, and time to every purpose under heaven.” (Ecc. 3:1).

Seasons.

Appointed segments of time parametered around specific occasions. Times in life that float in and out. Some with awareness. Some with little thought.

I’m about to enter into a new season, and, indeed, it comes with much thought this night.

My kids are returning to school tomorrow. It both delights my heart and fills my mind with a new set of thoughts. Every new school year brings changes for all of us. Some change I can control, but mostly, the changes that will come fall outside my realm of manipulation.

It is the way of seasons.

They cycle and spin around us as an inevitable force of nature, and the only control we can levy in the process is the one that voices our response.

How will we walk it? How will we embrace the unknown with a measure of grace and purity of heart that is our requirement as a people who are called to live by faith and not by sight? Will fists and stomps and “refusals to move” be our portion? Or, will we instead, step into it with a calm resolve that whispers the surety of Solomon’s wisdom?

There is something oddly diverse about shifting seasons. Our appointed segments of living can hold both hard and soft. Pain and joy. Full and empty. Difficult and easy…all at the same time. We cannot avoid a new season’s arrival, nor can we fully calculate its end, but we can be sure that while walking it, our emotions will run the spectrum’s extremes.

Tonight, my emotions run tired and worried. Not because my kids are entering into a new school year, but simply because of what they leave behind as they go.

Me.

A mom without focus. A mom with some free time on her hands, and yet with little understanding of how to fill those hands. A mom who has dreamed for so long of one day finally realizing what she wants to be when she grows up. A mom who could do a hundred things in a hundred different ways to make the time pass, and yet a mom who isn’t interested in just filling time.

Filling time with a hundred things is of little value to me, for time is precious and it is marching its cadence in quick measure. No, what I’m after in this new season of living is filling my time with a few pursuits that hold timeless value—investments that save sacred and reap dividends far into the future. If not my future, then the future of those who will come behind.

Tonight, I’m not sure what that looks like or how it breathes. But I’m fairly confident that it will include the paper and the pen and the ink that draws from the life-giving well of God’s holy Word. I’m certain it will breathe with people—those individuals who’ve been so wonderfully deposited into my life by divine intention. And I’ve got a feeling that it will also pulse with the quiet hush of heaven—times of orchestrated isolation that will allow me the room to pause and to ponder the one thought that stirs my heart the most.

My Father.

And my God is anything but filler. He’s timeless. An investment in Him is an investment that reaps as sacred and yields dividends long after the seed has been sown. He holds the highest value of all intended pursuits, and in the end, He is “how” I want to be when I grow up.

I don’t know what season you are walking right now. Perhaps, like me, you are about to enter into a new segment of living. And while yours may not step like mine, all shifting seasons bring pause to our spirits.

I am thinking about you tonight, even as I think about all of the ways that I want to honor God with my life in this new chapter called today. I don’t want to simply “get through” it. I want to fully live while in it. I don’t want to rush time. I want to savor the aroma of minutes and hours and days that are given to me because God deemed them purposeful and worthy on my behalf.

I don’t want to look back on this season with regrets. Instead, I want to look forward with the understanding that this season is the solid seeding of my next. That choices made now will matter for tomorrow. That this shifting segment of time is my necessary portion if I am to grow into the woman that God intends for me to be.

I’ve been anticipating this new chapter in my life for nearly three months now. The chapter entitled “summer” has come to an end. The page has turned, and I have arrived on the scene of my next. The deepest and truest desire of my heart is to live it like I mean. To walk it like I talk it. To inhale the beauty of God’s eternal and then to exhale him with every breath that I breathe.

If that can be my punctuated “amen” at the end of this season, then I will have lived the wisdom of King Solomon and will have walked the grace and promise of King Jesus. May it be so for all of us, and thus I pray…

For this season of change, Father, I thank you. For all that will be accomplished toward your perfect end, I thank you. For your willingness to allow me this season, I thank you. And for your grace that affords me the privilege of walking it with you, I thank you. Bring clarity in my confusion. Calm in my chaos. Focus in my fledgling. Mercy in my mistakes. Grace in my growing. And peace…always peace…in my journey. You are my Peace and the highest esteem of my heart this night. Amen.

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a very good morning!

Perhaps you, too, are embarking on a new season of living. I would welcome your thoughts in the matter. I would also appreciate your prayers for me as I seek a writing focus for the next few months. I have some ideas but need some clarity in the matter. How may I pray for you this week? It is the privilege of my heart to do so. Shalom.

A "Mighty" Quick Word

August 4, 2008

I have about “zero” time to blog today. Life is in full swing here with school starting next Monday, daughter having her real birthday tomorrow, and VBS starting tonight.

That being said, I wanted to take a moment to share this with you.

It’s a bracelet I’ve been wearing for a year now. I had two made, one for a friend going through cancer issues and one for myself as a reminder to pray for her. If you look closely, you’ll notice the scripture reference engraved on the tag as Judges 6:12.

“When the angel of the LORD appeared to Gideon, he said, ‘The LORD is with you, mighty warrior.”

God is with us, friends. He’s named us as mighty, and he’s entrusted us with the battle! A winning combination all around, even in the midst of our tumultuous and our busy.

We can face it all…the front and the forward…because our Father has forged the way. He stands at the helm and he guards from the rear. Our job?

Finding our rest somewhere in between (see Isaiah 52:11-12…one of my favorite scriptures…I’m tempted to wander on about it, but time dictates I save it for another day).

I like that. It’s a picture of peace I can walk into without hesitation. I hope that you, too, can find enough faith this day to paint yourself in the scene. We’re breathing this journey together, and I count my life richly blessed for having you alongside.

Enough said.

Go in the strength that you have because you’ve been clothed with the Almighty Spirit of the One, Living, and True God.

And Grace (comment #14),

you’re the winner of Alicia’s book “Anonymous.” I trust that if it is a duplicate for you, you’ll find a good home for it. Email me the snail mail, and I’ll get it to you in swift measure. Grace is one of my favorite blogging stops. She always leaves me with a smile and is worth your visit.

As always,

~elaine

If you think about it today, pray for the young lives that will be attending our VBS this week. I’m in charge of the “story room.” Tonight’s focus? None other than a mighty warrior named Gideon. Shalom!

Saturday Stress

August 3, 2008

“… let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.” (Hebrews 12:1-2).

Saturday stress. My portion. How about you?

What do…

paying bills,
school shopping,

hosting a birthday party,

staring at a non-functioning blog (thanks sitemeter),

and working on an upcoming Vacation Bible School have in common?

Absolutely nothing from a worldly perspective. But add God into the mix, and the thread weaves clearer.

Temporal things.

I’ve got them. You’ve got them. We are all living and breathing them until we’ve nearly choked to death from their stranglehold.

We have got some pitchin’ and some throwin’ to do if we’re going to press into God’s eternal. There’s a real danger in holding tightly to “things” that were never meant to last. Good things, perhaps. Necessary things, but in the end, things that won’t follow us to our forever.

God knew we would struggle with kingdom focus. That is why he gave us the witness of his Spirit and the power of his Word. Let me stray one day from his presence, and I can almost guarantee a mired perspective. Martha is alive and well in my house this night and looking a great deal like the woman I see in the mirror. Mary? Well, she’s here too. At least her heart is, but her sitting and her seeking have fallen prey to the urgent and the immediate. She doesn’t mean to hide. She simply has succumbed to the pressing necessary.

It is hard to be a Mary in a Martha necessary. Wouldn’t you agree? I was born a Mary, but there are times when I must embrace my Martha and walk my required portion of essential living.

And therein lies the rub.

Essential versus non-essential. Who decides?

Hebrews 12 gives us the answer. The “who” is Jesus. He authored our beginning. He will punctuate our ending, and the life lived between the two chronicles the journey of our perfected faith. Rarely does it read pretty, but always should it read him. He is the essential and should remain our focus despite our propensity for either a Mary seeking or a Martha doing. Everything else is just filler.

My filler has been full to overflow today. As I look over my list of “doing” I don’t think that God is displeased with my choices. I simply believe that he wishes for a little more of my heart in the midst of those choices. To take time…

*to thank him for the provision to pay my bills and to do my children’s school shopping.
*to slow down long enough to enjoy the candles and the cake and the beautiful daughter who was fashioned by his hands in my womb over six years ago.
*to realize that “sitemeter” and “blogging” is sometimes less about him and more about me tracking my ego.
*to relish another VBS occasion when the greatest story on earth and in heaven will take to the stage via my words and my actions.

We will never completely resolve our temporal with our eternal. Not on this side of heaven. There will be a constant tug between our casting off and our pressing on. Between our Martha and our Mary. Between our immediate necessary and our eternal necessary. It is the way of our fleshly now.

But there is coming a then. A joy that exceeds the stress of a Saturday and replaces the chaos of our current. Even as it was set before Jesus, it sits before us…behind us…all around us.

Eternity. The essential, urgent, and necessary pulse of our Father’s heart. One beat after another in perfect cadence with the Creator’s plan.

He is worth our pitchin’ and throwin’ tonight. He is worthy of our run, so let us lace up our shoes, fix our focus, and keep to the path that will lead us home…straight into the arms of the One who authors the perfect ending to a less than perfect journey. I’m so glad he’s the one holding the pen, for he is the only one who can bring peace to my journey, and so I pray…

Write my story, Father, with kingdom perspective. Let not my essential drown out my eternal. Strengthen my frame for the road head. Give me a mind to choose wisely, the feet to run swiftly, and the heart to seek fully the truth and joy set before me. And when I am tempted to mire my focus in the temporal, shatter my vision with the reality of my forever. Help me to let go so that I can take hold. Simply let go and completely take hold. You are the grip of my heart tonight. Amen.

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Pastor Guillermo

July 30, 2008

Until now, regular readers of peace for the journey have known me as Elaine’s husband and her number one fan. Now for the first time I am a guest contributor to her blog, which coincides with another important first in my life—my first mission trip outside the USA.

A team of 16 young adults and chaperones left our church on July 16, 2008, for the South American nation of Bolivia and a new orphanage established by the Methodist Church of Bolivia. The Andes Mountain range is second only to the Himalayas as the highest in the world and is home to the Aymaran Indians, the native people of Bolivia. For ten days we called this harsh, desperately poor but splendid place our home.

Tacachia rests at the end of a forty mile stretch of winding mountain road. My sense of “belonging” in that little village was challenged from the very beginning. As one of Tacachia’s newest residents my name was a problem: “Billy.”

Billy is the name that I have answered to for almost forty-one years of living, but to a rural population that spoke only Spanish and Aymaran, none of them had ever met a “Billy” and had great difficulty pronouncing my name. I had a choice to make: to insist that everyone in my new home struggle with a name that defied their tongues’ best efforts, or I could change my name. The choice was easy. My high school Spanish teacher had us use the Spanish equivalent of our English names in class. Thanks to those lessons from long ago I quickly exchanged “Billy” for “Guillermo,” which is Spanish for “William.”

Instead of loosing any precious sense of my identity, compromising my standards, or watering down the Gospel message, the Lord led me to a deeper understanding of what it means to “deny myself.” When Jesus said to His disciples, in Matthew 16:24 “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me,” Jesus meant that we have to be willing to replace our standards with His standards. As long as we stay close to the place we call home and the local church we call our own, self denial may not seem like a big deal. But what does the Lord require of His people when He leads us among strangers?

I believe that Acts 1:4-8 is concrete proof that Jesus does not use a “sliding scale” in measuring mission work. The idea of local missions, verses overseas missions, and one being better than another is an invention of man and not of God. Wherever you are, if you are a baptized believer in Jesus Christ, you are in the mission field. As missionaries, there is an ever present temptation to value our station in life, our title, our accomplishments, our circumstances, to the point that the world around us feels like they have no hope of relating to us.

To the people of Tacachia, “Pastor Billy” was a name their tongues could not grasp. They could not greet me. They could not introduce me to their neighbors. They could not hope to have any kind of intimate relationship with me, because “Pastor Billy” was the name of a stranger who wanted to remain a stranger. But “Pastor Guillermo” was a welcome guest who wanted to know them and wanted to be known by them.

What about my other names? I am a United Methodist pastor. I am an Elder in the Church. I have an undergraduate degree from Pfeiffer College and a Masters of Divinity from Asbury Theological Seminary. I am proud of all these names—up to the point that these parts of my “identity” might become an obstacle in proclaiming the Good News of Jesus Christ.

Ten days with Pastor Guillermo taught me that my own selfishness has been the biggest obstacle in keeping me from sharing the love of Jesus.

Ten days with Pastor Guillermo taught me that Christians have to be willing to deny the things we often prize the most, for the sake of the least and the lost.

Ten days with Pastor Guillermo taught me that Christians have to love Jesus more than we love denomination, or education, or anything else that might build a wall between us and those He sends us too.

Ten days with Pastor Guillermo taught me that the most important thing I have to offer the Lord on the mission field is my obedience.

As it was with Pastor Guillermo, so I want it to be with Pastor Billy. I want to love others more than myself and to prize relationships over ego…Christ above self.

The lesson of my mission field has not been an identity crisis, but rather has been the fertile soil to finding my true identity in Christ. Not everyone will need a trip to South America to learn how to part with their selfishness, but as Elaine will attest, I’ve never been very good at doing things the easy way. God used Pastor Guillermo to humble Pastor Billy.

I’m so glad for the occasion to have met him in the little village of Tacachia.

peace for the journey~
Billy

If you want to learn more about the medical mission society that helped us organize our trip to Bolivia, please click on this link to Curamericas. Details about the Kory Wawanaca Children’s Home of Tacachia, Bolivia can be viewed at their website.

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