Category Archives: living God’s truth

A Zoo’s Pondering (part two): Made for the Stretch

“However, as it is written: ‘No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him’—but God has revealed it to us by his Spirit. The Spirit searches all things, even the deep things of God. … We have not received the spirit of the world but the Spirit who is from God, that we may understand what God has freely given us.” (1 Corinthians 1:9-10, 12).

What was God thinking?


I tell you what I think that he was thinking about when he made this magnificent creature.

Perception.

Of all the created land animals God placed in the garden, none stands taller than the giraffe. They frame long and lean. They paint gold and brown. They pattern significant and intentional. They stand strong and proud. And they stretch deep and high with a neck designed…

for perception.
for seeing above and beyond the horizontal.
for reaching high to grasp the provision of One higher.

Of all the creatures I witnessed on my recent trip to the zoo, the giraffes were the ones that garnered my heartiest admiration. They are beautiful beyond description. Seeing them in picture books and movies falls short of the real thing. Pictures don’t breathe as three dimensional. They paint flat. But witnessing a giraffe first hand is like walking into the canvas of a painter’s work in progress. This kind of palette colors vivid and real and alive with a garden’s pulse.

There is something about a giraffe that speaks of Eden.

Giraffes embody man’s impossibility. No test tube or scientific mutation could birth such a divine oddity. Science is too exacting for such an extreme. But God? Well, impossible and extremes are in keeping with his divinity. Eden birthed the limitless possibility of perfection. Its soil grew with the lush and green and abundance of a Father’s creative genius. No creature was too great or too small to pasture its soil. They simply fit.

And woven into that fitting is the one creature that offers a dimensional perspective that completes the picture of sacred visioning.

Giraffes were created with the stretch in mind. Their chins lift higher. Their mouths taste higher. Their eyes see higher. Their thoughts conceive higher, for higher is their assigned portion. Bending to taste from a soil’s dirt is a difficult stretch for a giraffe. But stretching to taste from a tree’s first fruits is an easy and reasonable reach. Giraffes were designed for higher living.

So are we.

God designed us for the stretch. For a perspective that breeds hope and faith and the conceiving of the inconceivable. God intends for us to live tall with our chins toward heaven for the receiving. All too often, though, we are content to mire our thoughts at ground level and to grovel for our soul’s sustenance within the soil of a well-trodden path. Problem is…

Well worn paths have known a good picking and no longer soil the seed of perception.

Giraffes never have that problem. They find pasture with the untasted, less trampled fruits of a higher perspective. Their stretch allows them unlimited possibilities for the feeding. They walk above and beyond the horizontal in order to take hold an abundance that can only be found in high places.

I want to be like a giraffe. I want to find my stretch. I want to see with my eyes, and hear with my ears, and conceive with my mind the sure promise of high living. I think you want this too. But here’s the deal. For high living to happen, we have got to trade in our well-worn perspective for kingdom perspective.

We will never live our stretch until we get our noses out of the dirt and begin to feast on the fruit of an untasted abundance. God has filled our lives with an edenic portion of lush and green and fertile. It seeds in the pages of his Word and in the fellowship of his Holy Spirit.

We have been given everything we need to live at this higher level. We have been given the mind of Christ and the capacity to know the One and only living God. Through the power of his Holy Spirit we can more fully comprehend his thoughts and the spiritual truths that radiate from his core.

This, my friends, is three dimensional living on the canvas of a Painter’s work in progress. It breathes with the palette of Eden’s perfection. It paints with the vertical in mind and with a heart’s stretch that isn’t afraid…

to perceive higher.
to reach further.
to strain for the better.
to press on to take hold of a first fruits’ provision, seeded by the very hands of God.

Indeed, our God was thinking when he made this magnificent creature. Mr. Giraffe has certainly made an impression on me. Thus, I pray…

Thank you, Father, for dreaming the giraffe. I cannot imagine the full measure of your wisdom in the matter, but I am confident that he brings you much joy. He’s led me to my pondering this day and taught me something about living with perception. Forgive me, Lord, when I keep my chin down and refuse the provision of a higher sustenance. Remind me to look up. To live up, and to stretch up in order to take hold of your kingdom perspective. Thank you for perceiving my possibility even when my eyes refuse the vision. You are my mind and my heart’s desire this day. Give me the faith to conceive the inconceivable. Amen.

Copyright © July 2008 – Elaine Olsen. All rights reserved.

post signature

A Zoo’s Pondering (part one): Made for the Roar

“Then God said, ‘Let us make man in our image, in our likeness, and let them rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, over the livestock, over all the earth, and over all the creatures that move along the ground. So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.” (Genesis 1:26-27).

I’ve been to the zoo this week. No, not the one that currently shares my mailing address but, instead, the one that includes real animals. The Asheboro Zoo.

It has been eight years since my last visit. I imagine it will be at least another eight before I muster the “want to” to go again. On this occasion, my “want to” was largely based on my children’s desire. With dad out of the country, I thought it a good occasion to make our pilgrimage. It was. Sort of.

Good because…

*My parents made the trip with us.
*The crowds were way down.
*It was relatively cheap entertainment.
*It wore my kids out (not to mention their three chaperones).
*The animals provided enough fodder for a week’s worth of blogging.

Less good because…

*The temperatures soared to 90+ degrees.
*The real life habitats (while ideal for the animals) required a great deal of walking.
*The animals were apparently notified of the heat and the diminishing crowds and responded accordingly.
*Worn out kids make for ill-fitted companions.
*If you’re not into pondering the sacred possibilities of a zoo’s visit, I may lose you as a reader.

Zoos are not God’s design. They are man’s way of containing and controlling some species that were originally designed for life without boundaries. They’re not evil. They’re simply not perfect. In a perfect world, animals and man cohabitate as one. In a fallen world, they separate and live as individual.

I noticed this tension more profoundly with my visit. Perhaps it is my age. When younger, my fear of the unknown warranted and validated the separation. But as I have matured, so has my desire for some unity with God’s creatures. I want to touch and to talk with and to tend them with the familiarity that was first birthed in a garden. I want the bars of our separation to disappear and the freedom of Eden to breathe its return upon this soil.

But what I want awaits another season—a time when God finally clarifies the matter within beast and man alike. Thus, I’m left with cages and confinement and contemplation at a distance. And the contemplation that most deeply stirs my spirit this night is the realization that…

Cages breed lethargy. Confinement breeds less than.

What I wanted to see was a roaring lion.

What I saw instead was this.

The king of the created four-footers was hot and tired. He had no use for the onlookers and even less use for the roar bottled up within his seemingly gaunt frame. No amount of my cajoling could rouse him from his lethargy. He is simply living as he is parametered.

Less than.

This the way of man’s confinement. It always lives as captive and breeds a posture of defeat. An imperfect existence. A functional one, but never the perfection that God intended on the front end of things.

What God intends for his created is freedom. A posture of victory. An existence that exceeds function to breed and to breathe the truth of a lavish grace that brings all creatures to a completed and perfected end.

He means for us to roar and to take ownership of the liberty that is ours in Jesus Christ. Bars and cages and control have no place inside the kingdom that belongs to the King. For…

“It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by the yoke of slavery.” (Galatians 5:1).

A high price was paid for our emancipation. Walking the value of such a sacred exchange is left up to us. We can allow man his framing of our existence or we can stand firm in the freedom that comes to us through the framing of the cross. Christ willingly embraced man’s confinement via two wooden beams, but even then, nails and timber could not hold him…not forever. They simply held him long enough for love’s redeeming work to walk its course.

And when that course was finished, the Lion of the tribe of Judah had some roar still bottled up within. On the third day, he allowed it the voice that reverberates freedom’s battle cry two thousand years down the road. He broke the chains of confining sin and death so that we could chorus our roar in unison with his. Our choice in the matter remains exactly that. Ours.

We can choose our less than or we can throw our head back, open our mouths, and sound the victory that echoes loud and large and as an everlasting witness to the liberty found in Jesus Christ alone.

I don’t know about you, but that is some sacred possibility drawn from a visit to the zoo. It is something that’s got me thinking tonight and so I pray…

Thank you, Father, for the gift of perspective…for a lesson from a lion. You knew how it would speak even before it was voiced. Keep me from my lethargy and less than, and move me toward the freedom that is mine because of your confinement at Calvary. Thank you for your created creatures that breathe the witness of your magnificent plan. Brings us all to our everlasting that will walk without parameters and that will allow us to live as one. Amen.

Copyright © July 2008 – Elaine Olsen. All rights reserved.

post signature

Concluding Exhortations


“Let love of the brethren continue.” (Hebrews 13:1).

Concluding exhortations.

That was the topic of this morning’s adult Sunday school class. I am not on the circuit of regular teachers for this group of mature seniors, but I have been attending their class for nearly three years. I dearly love them, both collectively as a group and as individuals. Their words drip with wisdom, and their love breathes as genuine. They’ve lived long enough to find their compass—to anchor their hearts within a centered peace and an abiding faith that are not easily shaken.

So when I was asked to offer my voice as their leader, I welcomed the opportunity. Problem was…the invitation was issued a few months back, and in the busy of my past two weeks (i.e. vacation in Gatlinburg), I neglected its remembrance. Mid-week of my mountain retreat, I remembered and was tempted to bail. After all, I had left my curriculum guide at home and was weary with my lazy.

God gently reminded me that no curriculum was necessary. The truth of his Word, alone, was enough to carry me through. Thus, I contacted one of the class members to retrieve the scripture.

Hebrews 13:1-16.

A to-do list of sorts. Some final thoughts to punctuate the previous twelve chapters detailing the supremacy and sufficiency of Jesus Christ.

Loving one another.
Entertaining strangers.
Remembering those in prison.
Keeping sexual purity at a premium.
Keeping a love for money at a minimum.
Finding contentment in the “have”, realizing that the “have”—Jesus Christ—is all we’ll ever need.
Receiving the truth of that “have” as changeless—yesterday, today and forever.
Imitating the faith of the saints.
Guarding the Gospel as the truth.
Bearing the reproach of Christ.
Offering the praise of sacrifice.
Doing good and sharing that goodness with others.

Indeed. Some final, heavy thoughts, packed into sixteen verses of scripture duly categorized by modern-day translators as some…

Concluding exhortations.

And for all of the ways I could have taken the lesson this morning, sticking with the theme of this one phrase was the right way to go. Even though these words of organization are not included in the original manuscript, they are rich in their application, especially as it pertains to the contents of Hebrews 13.

I asked the class to consider their concluding exhortations. Exhortation, as found in Hebrews 13:22, is the Greek word paraklesis. It is a word meaning “encouragement, entreaty, consolation, admonition, importation, refreshment, and persuasive discourse.”[i] Thus, I challenged my pupils (whose wisdom and maturity surpass me by at least three decades) to pause and to consider what they might like to say as a concluding word of encouragement to those whom they love and to a world who desperately needs the exhortation of such Godly influence.

It is a tough question to ask, especially to souls who are aging and who, undoubtedly, live with some memories and pains and regrets that have shadowed them into these golden years of living. But tough is not always wrong, and this morning, tough was very right and became the tender soil of God’s plowing. I witnessed my students’ tears of understanding as we marshaled our way through sixteen verses of “forget-me-nots.”

They laced the discussion with their laughter, with their memories, with their truth and with God’s. And as quickly as the ten o’clock hour arrived, it left, and I was stunned by the provision of God’s grace and presence who arrived on the scene to partake in our discussion.

It is his promise to us, straight out of Hebrews 13:5-6.

“Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said, ‘Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.’ So we say with confidence, ‘The LORD is my helper; I will not be afraid. What can man do to me?’”

Indeed, if there is one exhortation that breathes from the hearts of the Friendship Sunday School class, it is this simple truth. For all of the years traversed upon this earthly sod, there is God who has journeyed it with them. Fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty, and almost ninety year’s worth of walking it through with the LORD, Covenant God. Helper and Sustainer of life.

Man has already done his doing over their lives–years worth of doing that have left some scars. But the fear, well it is mostly gone now, for they have learned the secret of being of content. In little and in much. In sorrow and in joy. In sickness and in health. In the present and in the tomorrow yet to come, for with each day comes Jesus. And they have all reached the conclusion that Jesus is, in fact, worth their living.

This is why they were there this morning, present and accounted for in a “doing” that they’ve been doing for a long season. This is why I was there this morning and will continue to attend the senior-adult Sunday school class at my church. The class members live and breathe a concluding exhortation worthy of my pause…worthy of my embrace. They warrant my time and my preparation, for they are my brethren, and my love for them and their love for me…continues.

Deeper. Stronger. And more fully with every conversation that we share. We are a Hebrews 13:1, loving kind of people. We’re working on the other verses, but this love thing?

We are living it, and it is my great joy and privilege to be living it alongside them. And so I pray…

Make me like them, Lord. Let my life breathe a concluding exhortation that includes love as its anchor. Keep me close to the wisdom of these saints, even closer to your truth, so that we may grow as one body in the unity and grace given to each one of us through your cross. Give me ears to listen, a heart to receive, and a hand to serve these precious friends of mine. Give them, each one, the strength to find their voice and the praise to find their lips so that their final chorus sings with a faith that will melody throughout the generations to come. Thank you for the privilege of their companionship along the road. They have been your grace to me, and I am the better for having them in my life. Amen.

[i] http://studylight.org/desk/?l=en&query=Hebrews+13%3A22&section=0&translation=nsn&oq=&sr=1

Copyright © June 2008 – Elaine Olsen. All rights reserved.

post signature

God has been stirring my thoughts for another mini-study to begin in the near future. Stay tuned for further details. Shalom.

Packing Up a Vacation…Punctuating a Week

Packing Up a Vacation…Punctuating a Week

“You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.” (Isaiah 55:12).


I was ready to come home. Sort of. Vacation is always a mixed bag of everything for me. Good, along with the bad, and a whole lot of other that rests in between.

I was tired going into our trip. I am even more tired coming out of it, and even now I can barely muster the strength for a complete thought. But there is a lingering thought…one final memory of our time in Gatlinburg, that I find worthy of my pen this night.

Trees.

I spent some time with them yesterday afternoon. A storm was brewing—the kind of storm that smells before it swells. I knew that my moments of outdoor devotion would be brief. I am not a storm girl. They frighten me, but yesterday I found my strength in their embrace. I grabbed my Bible and headed out to the deck of our mountain loft. The hot and humid of a June afternoon gave way to the cool and breeze of a better wind.

And through my cluttered and chaotic, God used his trees to teach me a few things about clutter free living. Things like…

Trees are rooted for the wind. Rarely, if never, do they break with the wind’s embrace.

Trees are the instruments of the wind. When the force of a wind caresses the limbs of its instrument, the melody is magical.

Trees rhythm with the wind. They don’t bobble and bumble their way through the song. They sway in step with their conductor.

Trees bend with the wind. For the touching forth and the falling back and the rebounding to center.

Trees are content to share the stage with the wind’s choice of companions. Rarely is its song a solo act.

Trees sing regardless of the wind. Each and every spring they burst onto the scene, budded for new life. Each and every fall, they take to their hiddenness with the barren embrace of a winter’s calling. In season and out, trees are steadfast and true. They do not worry about a spring’s budding or a fall’s stripping. They simply are. They trust God for the song.

Trees have longevity, despite the wind. They’ve been around for a long time. They were the pronounced goodness of a Father’s third day extravaganza. They will follow us all the way to heaven.

Trees submit to the wind. Not begrudgingly, but with the bending and blending of voices that sing in perfect song to the God who made them for his renown because…

Trees understand that their voice sings because of the wind. Left in stillness, their song remains as silent.

Trees and wind. A sometimes unwelcomed coupling.

To the novice—to those untrained in the melodies of creation—a tree’s rustling sounds like little more than the approach of an oncoming storm. But to me, a lover of creation and one in search of the sacred song, the rhythm of the trees sounds like the chorus of heaven.

And in the pause of a yesterday’s shower, I was reminded that there is song that exists apart from me. A song that is sung, sometimes, in spite of me. A song that will continue to sing, not because of me, but because of the One who commissioned its voice for such adoration.

Trees do not sing for man’s approval. They simply sing because our Father has given them the voice to praise. And on the eve of a vacation’s ending, I stepped away from my usual—my crazy and my chaos—to participate in the chorus of the unusual.

It is a song that never grows old. A song that always sings pure. A song that fully and most assuredly breathes grace. And even though I’m home now, if I listen closely…close my eyes and focus tightly…

I can hear the rustled melody of my Father’s kingdom chorus as I walk my way to sleep.

What a perfectly, satisfying way to pack up my vacation and to punctuate my week. And so I pray…

Thank you, Father, for the chorus of your creation that bursts onto my scene everyday and begs for my notice. Open my eyes to see the beauty of your handiwork. Open my ears to hear the chorus of you melody. Open my mouth to taste of your goodness. Open my senses to feel and to smell the splendor of your creative genius, and open my heart to receive the fullness your presence. And when I forget to sing your praises, Lord, stir your trees in my absence. Let all creation voice the truth of who you are. You, alone, are worthy of all my praise. Amen.

post signature

error: Content is protected !!