Category Archives: theology

Bethlehem’s Light

Bethlehem’s Light

“Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the LORD rises upon you. See, darkness covers the earth and thick darkness is over the peoples, but the LORD rises upon you and his glory appears over you. Nations will come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn.” (Isaiah 60:1-3).

We’re here. We’ve arrived. At Bethlehem, and if you’re reading this, you’ve arrived intact and, undoubtedly, with some relief.

Me too.

And of all the greetings I could send your way in the earliest hours of this occasioned day … of all the clever and enchanting ways I could paint this moment with my words, none would suffice to adequately capture the truth of what this pilgrimage has meant and continues to mean to me.

None, except, perhaps this picture.

They say a picture is worth 1000 words. I say this one is worthy of a few more. Not because of its superior quality. It comes close to failure in that department. But rather because of the eternal truth it scripts.

Our Light has come … has entered into our darkness. Not to shatter us into a pile of irretrievable pieces, but to illuminate us with the single truth…

of Bethlehem’s pause.
of creation’s purpose.
of our reason for being given this season of influence in our lives.

Never will our God shine brighter, loom larger, or beam bigger then when he is given the permission to illuminate his heart and love through the likes of you and me. At least not on this side of eternity.

There is coming a day when our faith will be made sight, and our fleshly attempts at being his light will fall prey and bow down to the weight of his inapproachable light. But until then, we are given the inconceivable privilege of housing his grace and his eternal flicker of hope.

We are the keepers of God’s Light. The tenders of a sacred wick that is meant to flame with the heat of a Father’s holy passion. Our failure to understand the depth of such a holy privilege not only leaves us as we are, but also succeeds in leaving others as they are.

In the dark and without hope. Confused and groping for the way home.

When we fail to reason God’s unreasonable as our assigned portion and to allow his living pulse to become our living breath, we live less. We walk smaller and not as God intended. He intends for us to live within and beneath the shadow of his accompanying presence each day and in full and unsuspecting ways. He means for others to see him through us. Thus, our membership in his household called faith and in his kingdom called Christendom.

We live selfish when we shine God’s Light in isolation. We mock Bethlehem and its mangered pause when we neglect to walk the fulfillment of its illumination … when we turn a deaf ear and a blind eye to the Matthew 5:14’s and 26:18’s of God’s Holy writ.

Nations have been assigned to God’s Light via our vessels. There are those who will walk home to Jesus because our candles have been the faithful radiance to shine the way. When we bow in holy submission to such Light, we pay high and holy honor to our created purpose. When we walk proud and with little regard to such privilege, we damper God’s illumination.

Does he really need us in order to shine big?

Not really, but his grace allows us the consecrated participation. And when it happens, when our exposure allows Christ his, we experience a fullness that exceeds the solitary whispers of a single flame. We land our lives squarely in the middle of a roaring, Holy Spirit, Jesus-breathing, burning bush kind of revelation. Not the kind that burns to ashes, but rather the type that burns to pure.

To perfection and to a knowing that rests easy with the flaming wick and that concedes the heart to the tending therein.

I don’t know about you, but I want to be the luminary that shines forth our Father’s light. I want to be pure, and I want the joy of seeing others see him because of my privileged participation in the matter. The one God who shines brighter, looms larger, and beams bigger because I’ve allowed him a home in my heart.

Today I will watch young and old come to the manger to receive the gift of Christmas. Together, we will unwrap another year’s worth of spending and doing in short order. But when evening comes, when the bows and paper and plates have been cleared away and my head finds its rest, I pray that my loved ones will have unwrapped more than my meager attempts at love. I pray that they will have seen God in our midst, casting his high and holy shadow through the single flame of my willing heart.

If I can show them Jesus this Christmas, then holy intention has walked its course, and my life has served good purpose.

I pray the same for you, my friends. Holy intention and good purpose lived through you with every package opened, with every smile given, with every difficult relative loved, and with every kindness offered. May God’s Light within you be the flame that lights up your home this Christmas with the warmth and the truth of Bethlehem’s sacred pause.

Arise and shine, for your Light has come.

Merry Christmas, precious friends. From my home to yours. It is my joy and privilege to break bread with you in this season of my life.


As always,

post signature

The Increasing Truth

“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and peace there will be no end. He will reign on David’s throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever. The zeal of the LORD Almighty will accomplish this.” (Isaiah 9:6-7).

 

In a world seemingly content with its fluctuation between hot and cold and highs and lows, and with a Christmas season that houses a propensity for the same, I need some truth. Hot and cold is not my preference. The shifting sands of uncertain seasons prickle my spirit with discord and blanket my flesh with a fresh dose of frenzy. Be it the political arena, the stock market, international unrest, or the changing “wish lists” for Santa on the home front, I need a hope. A fully substantial truth that will sustain me through this season and into the next.

Finding the real and what’s true amidst the wrappings of a temporal flux rarely surfaces by accident. Truth’s finding comes through intention. Through a deliberate focus that refuses the chaos and, instead, accepts the responsibility to chart one’s course accordingly. To slice through the wrappings and the trappings of a decorated peace in order to find the pure, unadulterated truth that breathes raw and undefiled and full of the living, breathing pulse of heaven.

Truth is our needful portion and to arrive at its core, we must be willing to break pace with the world’s cadence—a rhythm that is leading to our quick and certain suffocation. Time to cut the junk. Cut the flap. Cut the verbiage that so willingly spews its polished spin so as to make “all that currently is” an easier swallow. Just give it to me straight, for I am bit weary from the strain of making “all that currently is”… make sense. I simply and profoundly need…

simple and profound.

Thankfully, the prophet Isaiah is willing to afford me both.

He tells me about the promised Son. About a Wonderful Counselor, a Mighty God, an Everlasting Father, and a Prince named Peace. Lingering in the truth of our Savior’s multi-labeling is enough to wrap my weary into a manageable portion. After all, who couldn’t use some of God’s counseling and mighty and everlasting peace in this season?

But Isaiah takes it further. He tells me something more about my Jesus. Something so simply profound that I often miss it in favor of his divine labeling.

My Savior’s kingdom and his peace are on the rise.

“Of the increase of his government and peace there will be no end.”

Never once have they diminished, even though the world continues to offer its voice to the contrary. With every passing moment since Bethlehem’s arrival, the weight of our Savior’s cloaking has increased. The government that rests upon his shoulders is bigger now than it has ever been—2000 years and counting worth of increase.

No matter the critics. No matter the chaos. No matter the sin. No matter all manner of fluctuations that breathe with the only certainty that life is uncertain. Hot and cold is of little influence when it comes to Christ and his government.

It’s growing. With every passing day and in wild and unimaginable ways, our Father’s peaceful “kingdom come” is coming closer, pulsing louder, and feeling the weight of a full gestation. What is soon to be birthed will far exceed our understanding. We cannot see it now. Our world is filled with clouded confusion. But we will see it soon. Until then, of this we can be sure.

The length and width and height and depth of God’s loving and lavish conclusion will blanket the earth with the simple and profound truth of what’s been growing all along.

His increase. Every time…

A prayer is whispered.
His Word is read.
His name is spoken.
An offering is made.
A hymn is sung.
A child imagines the Sacred.
An adult imagines the same.
A sinner bows.
A prodigal returns.
A surrender is made.
A tear is tendered to throne.
A deed is done in God’s name.
A heart believes.
A mustard seed is planted.
A miracle breathes.
A miracle waits.
An altar is filled.
The truth is felt.
The truth is spoken.
The truth is lived.

Every day, in chosen and in unseen ways, our Savior’s kingdom increases. And lest we think otherwise, lest we are tempted to believe that hell is gaining the upper hand, let us remember that where and when sin increases, grace increases all the more (Romans 5:20-21).

We stand on the winning side. God’s increase is on the rise. Always. His is not a decreasing kingdom but rather one of a lush and gaining abundance. And that, dear friends, is the pure, unadulterated truth that I need this season. He is the Anchor I can hang my hope on for always.

Long ago, I cast my lot with God’s kingdom. I’ve not always witnessed the increase in my own walk of faith, but I am certain of his. And somehow that frees me from the burden of needing to see it all up front. When I cannot imagine the wealth and bounty of this one moment, he can. He does. He carries it with him wherever he goes, from Bethlehem to now and into the great, wild beyond.

That is substantial. That is the Truth. That is, simply and profoundly, all this heart needs to know to make “all that currently is”… make sense. Thus I pray,

When I cannot see your increase Lord, remind me of your shoulders and your weighty worth that allows you to carry the unseen treasures of your coming kingdom. Thank you for a glimpse of the imponderable … for an imagination that imagines such beauty and for the faith to believe it most certain. Carry me there, in the middle of your abundance, on your shoulders and as your prize. Forgive me when I am tempted to limit your increase by visioning less and by believing less. You are more and big and beyond the articulations of my understanding. Keep me in captive awareness of your hugeness, and let your growing peace be my portion in this season. How I love you more for allowing me your profound amidst my simple. Amen.

post signature

 

How’s your season unpacking, friends? I’d like to unpack it a little further with a prize or two. Just leave a comment, and I will surprise you by week’s end. Also, if you have a special need or prayer request, please feel free to email me or leave it in the comment section. I would love to pray for you this week. Shalom.

A Morning’s Reminder…

What does an early morning obedience yield?

Reminders.

#1—My story is part of a bigger drama.
#2—There is coming a day when the graces and ills of said story will weave a completed and understood work.
#3—My full participation in that story has come with a costly price tag.

But for now, in this moment and on this day, I only see glimpses. I feel them in part. I hear them in fragments, but rarely do I fully grasp them. They are but reminders of an unseen reality that is working diligently on my behalf. Yours too.

And lest you think that you don’t need them—that your faith is so strong, so deep, and so mature so as not to look for them—then may I suggest that your faith bleeds weak? A faith that doesn’t look for reminders is a faith that poses little threat to the enemy and his many schemes for destruction. A faith that refuses its growing is a faith that falls prey to its burying. A faith that doesn’t need moments of breath-taking glimpses of God’s glory is a faith that expects little. Hopes little. Lives little.

I want a big faith. My today longs for it. I desperately need the hope of the faith that I so boldly proclaim. Why is today’s need more profound than yesterday’s? What prompts the search for faith?

Hurting hearts, that’s what. And mine is breaking today on behalf of a friend. The doctor’s report didn’t spin they way that we had hoped. The longed for conclusion was for remission. The reality spoke otherwise, and today, she is left with her questions and her decisions and with a heart in need of a few reminders that her God is good and that he has her in his watchful care. I am in need of a few myself.

Thus, I went looking for some of God’s sacred reminders this morning. First, in a book. Second, in God’s Word and thirdly, outdoors in God’s creation. I found them—my glimpses of hope; not because they weren’t there all along, but rather because my eyes and my heart were inclined toward perception.

#1—John Eldredge’s book Epic: the Story God is Telling, is a reminder to us that our stories are part of a bigger drama. That we were created with that drama in mind and that our individual parts are the central and key components in making the story come alive with a richness and depth that bring color and texture to the whole. Without our participation, the story reads with gaps. Your life and mine were meant to fill in those gaps. We were intended to be a part of God’s story. Epic gives us the permission to participate accordingly.

A gentle reminder of the bigger picture around 1:00 AM.

#2—Exodus 15 was the Scripture text for my morning devotion. A song of deliverance sung by Moses and the Israelites after walking their faith through on dry ground.

“‘In your unfailing love you will lead the people you have redeemed. In your strength you will guide them to your holy dwelling…. You will bring them in and plant them on the mountain of your inheritance—the place, O LORD, you made for your dwelling, the sanctuary, O Lord, your hands established. The LORD will reign for ever and ever.’” (Exodus 15:13, 17-18).

God’s mighty and outstretched arms were more than enough to lead a people from captivity to freedom. This has always been his way. His arms and his stretch, reaching long and wide and high and deep on our behalf and for his kingdom come. His strength will lead us home. To the mountain of his inheritance where breath-taking glimpses of his glory will be viewed in their entirety, forever and for always.

A gentle reminder of the bigger picture around 6:30 AM.

#3—The F-15 Strike Eagles were out in large force this morning as I took to the streets for my usual run. They are hard to miss. Their noise makes it so. Living in a military community requires my frequent notice of these tactical fighter jets that are designed to penetrate enemy defense and to outfight enemy aircraft. They hold my wonder and my constant gratitude.

The F-15’s fly with a bird’s eye view of their below and with a breathtaking view of God’s above. The men and women who pilot these aircrafts are doing so on our behalf. For the freedoms we now embrace and for the freedom we hope to remain. It comes with a hefty price tag. That is the way of freedom.

It costs. It exacts a price. It requires a sacrifice. It is a gift undeserving, yet willingly given. As it is with the F-15’s so it goes with my Father who willingly paid the price for our spiritual freedom through the sacrifice and his one and only Son.

A gentle, yet forceful reminder of the bigger picture around 8:00 AM.

A book that weaves a story of Epic proportions. A song that sings a story of deliverance. A plane that flies a story of protection. Three sought-after reminders. One conclusion.

God’s still writing the story … with his deliverance, with his protection, and with the bigger picture in mind. And while I cannot always fully see his hand in the matter, I can see the tracings of a greater Epic. One that allows me a few lines of participation and a few minutes on the stage. And the stage, my friends, is always a good place for a few humble reminders.

Today I am humbled, even as I am hurting. I am reminded, once again, that the best is yet to be and that I walk toward that best with God’s deliverance as my cloaking, with his holy intention as my guide, and with his protection as my shield against the enemy’s plans to the contrary.

I can walk home with a bigger purpose in mind. So can my friend. So can we all. Thus, let us walk it with God’s truth as our song:

“Depart, depart, go out from there! Touch no unclean thing! Come out from it and be pure, you who carry the vessels of the LORD. But you will not leave in haste or go in flight; for the LORD will go before you, the God of Israel will be your rear guard.” (Isaiah 52:11-12).

Our covenant Father, Yahweh, sets our course as he leads the way. The Creator of the entire Universe, Elohim, guards our steps and keeps watch over us from behind. From beginning to end, we are nestled in between the Sacred. Find your rest in this reminder today.

Amen.

~elaine

Copyright © November 2008 – Elaine Olsen. All rights reserved

I was so blessed by my reading of John Eldredge’s Epic, I want to make a few copies available to my readers. Simply leave a comment, and I will pick the winners by week’s end. Shalom.

My Father’s Heart

“‘For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.’” (John 3:16).

My father’s heart.

It sat for examination yesterday under the microscope of the learned. A blockage was found. A stint was inserted, and today he rests in the care of his beloved wife who’s been tending to his heart for nearly fifty years.

He didn’t know what the scrutinizing would yield. He only knew that he must submit his heart to the process of thorough assessment because earlier indicators urged him accordingly. He didn’t relish the idea going in. Who would? After all, heart business is hard business.

It requires.
It relinquishes.
It refuses.
It reminds.

Requires submission. Relinquishes control. Refuses the easy road. Reminds us of the fragility of life.

Indeed, heart business is hard business, and for those who are unwilling to bow to the authority of the learned, a heart’s health is often ignored. Left unexamined, a heart can become the fertile soil for a terminal disease. A death—physically, and even more so, spiritually.

But when a heart is allowed the light, when a heart is laid bare beneath the scope of understanding and superior wisdom, disease is quickly detected and a regimen toward heart healing is put into action.

Here’s the verdict according to John 3:19-21:

Light has come into the world. For a reason. For our heart’s examination. But men love darkness. Why? Because light exposes evil—the diseases that are eating away at the health of a heart. And quite frankly, we are a people prone to the easy of our hidden rather than the hard of our exposure.

We fear the light because of what it will require. Because of what we must relinquish. Because light always refuses the quick road to recovery and because light reminds us of our tenuous and frail condition. Light is our necessary portion, but often it remains our continual refusal because light insists on the truth.

And the truth about truth is this: Truth is the holy ground where the enemy will always wage his fiercest battles.

Evil thrives in the deep and in the dark and in the secrets that cower in perceived hiddenness and silence. Perceived because, even in the hidden and the quiet, Satan would have us to believe that this is where evil will remain. But this is his grand and unholy lie. Evil is never silent. Evil is never hidden. Evil insists on its own voice and evil persists in its peeking in and around the corners of our hearts until we can no longer refuse its anonymity.

Evil is the penchant of an unexamined life, and until our hearts are laid bare for a thorough assessment by the learned, evil will fester its growth and will foster its fatality into a life that was never meant to die.

Here’s the good news:

We were not made for the darkness. We are a people of light. A people who do not shrink back from the embrace of its exposure, but rather run toward it and bask beneath the light’s illumination because our faith dictates such a response (Hebrews 10:39). Jesus is the Light of the world, and it is for freedom that he has set us free.

Freedom to come into the light. Freedom to expose the deeds of our former darkness, and to walk in the truth of just how far we have come in the journey toward heart health and kingdom perfection. When we stand in the unveiling light of God’s truth for all the world to see, we stand as a witness to the transforming work of a lavish grace that bled for our release.

And here’s the truth about that Truth:

If our Father had never allowed his heart a thorough assessment—a full surrender to the process of a world’s heart cleansing through his son Jesus Christ—we would still be stumbling and fumbling around in our dark … in our death.

Unlike us, God knew what the scrutinizing would yield. It would necessiate his Son’s obedience to a cross. A Son who willingly chose the hard of an exposure that required his submission. That relinquished his control. That refused an easy road, and that painfully reminded them both about the frailty of the human condition.

Our condition. Yours and mine. A heart disease that required his heart’s submission, even unto death upon a cross.

My Father’s heart.

Who can fathom the depths of such a wondrous love?! Light has come into the world, my friends. He calls for our surrender today. Not to embarrass us or to shame us, but rather to free us from the chains of sin’s darkness. We can walk in the light because he is in the light (1 John 1:7), and he is our Father whose heart bled long and wide and high and deep in order to bring his children home. Thus I pray,

God of Light, illuminate my darkness. Shatter the lies of my sin with the truth of your grace. Strengthen my steps for the journey into the light, even though my flesh cries out for the secrets and for the dark. And when I am scared Father, about my exposure and the hard business required of me for my heart’s health, remind me of your Son’s willingness to sit for examination under the microscope of Calvary’s purification. Humbly I bow my heart to your authority and to your scrutiny this day. Amen.

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

~elaine

If you have the occasion today, please re-visit John 3:1-21. Read it again with fresh eyes. There’s a treasure trove of truth revealed through the Apostle’s pen and our Savior’s words. Shalom.

Setting the Table for Communion (part four): A Worthy Invitation

“As they approached the village to which they were going, Jesus acted as if he were going farther. But they urged him strongly, ‘Stay with us, for it is nearly evening; the day is almost over.’ So he went in to stay with them.” (Luke 24:28-29).

When was the last time you urged Jesus to come and to stay with you?

Urge. Parabiazomai in the transliterated Greek meaning, “to employ force contrary to nature, right; to compel by employing force; to constrain one by treaties.”[i]

It’s a strong word carrying with it, in this case, a strong invitation directed toward Jesus. Not to perform miracles. Not to soothe their ache with comforting words of untruth. Not to diminish the happenings of the past weekend, but rather, simply…

to stay.

Stay. Meno in the transliterated Greek meaning, “to remain, abide; to continue to be present; to be held—kept continually.”[ii]

What they asked of Jesus is not unlike what we ask of him in our times of deepest sorrow and confusion. They urged him to participate in their suffering through the gift of his presence. To share more of his heart with them over a common meal. To break bread and to receive the words of life from this one who spoke so eloquently about the One on whom they had hung their messianic hopes.

Everything that had transpired along the road from Jerusalem to Emmaus was ample fuel to warrant their desire for a further taste. And therein lies a truth for each one of us this day as we continue to set our table for communion with our Lord.

When Jesus Christ walks among us on our road to Emmaus and reveals the truth of who he is, a fire is fueled. Either a fire toward repentance or a fire toward rejection. If toward repentance, then our invitation for his lingering presence urges the same as it did for those disciples some 2000 years ago. If toward rejection, then our urges voice otherwise—in a safer, more sheltered direction that refuses the heat of the flames. But either way, when Jesus reveals…a fire burns, and a choice must be made.

Invitation or rejection.

The disciples chose well. They embraced the flames of this burning Truth that seared into their deep and dark with the penetrating light of Calvary’s victory. They didn’t scoff at the stranger’s words; instead they urged him toward further clarification in the matter. They didn’t dismiss him from their walk of grief; instead, they asked him to stay and to minister to their bleeding hearts and wounded confusion.

They didn’t come home empty-handed and empty-hearted. They came home with Jesus. Why?

Because our Savior is a kind a gracious Father whose agenda will never refuse an urgent invitation for his presence to be in our midst.

And so I ask you again, when was the last time you urged your Jesus to stay with you?

True and deep communion with Jesus…

Begins with an intentional walk toward the table (part one).
Continues with the worthy boast of his name (part two).
Deepens as the Word of God is revealed (part three).
Strengthens as an invitation for his presence is strongly urged (part four).

I don’t know where you are in your journey with Jesus this day, but as for me, I’m urging him for a deeper work. For more fire and more truth. Not because I desire the suffering heat, but rather because I know that God has ordained my refining process and to stop short of the flames is to stop short of my perfection.

I cannot always reason this walk between Jerusalem and Emmaus. Between spiritual blindness and sacred visioning. Between doubt and an absolute faith. Between rumors of his death and the reality of his resurrection. The struggle doesn’t make sense, especially since I’ve walked in God’s light for so long and tasted his truth at the deepest level of my being.

Still and yet, it is my struggle. But rather than walk away from God and hide in my confusion, I walk in obedience and with deliberate intention toward Him. With a worthy boast upon my lips and a worthy word within my heart because I know that my Father is faithful to come and to stay with me when my urging voices in his direction.

I’m urging Him today because he is my necessary and my very much needed. I long to sit by the fire and to break bread with him. Thus I pray,

Stay with me, Lord, at the table of my unbelief today. Linger long and with the words of truth that will reclaim my vision for all things eternal. Forgive me my doubts and replace them with the sure seeds of trust that harvest faithful and with the promise of your resurrection within. Let not my complacency be my satisfaction. Instead, stir my heart toward a greater conclusion in the matter…one that includes your magnificent imaginings for my life. Give me grace for the moment and hope for the ‘morrow. You are the sufficiency who keeps me in them both. Amen.

[i] http://studylight.org/desk/?l=en&query=Luke+24%3A28-29&section=0&translation=nsn&oq=&sr=1
[ii] http://studylight.org/desk/?l=en&query=Luke+24%3A28-29&section=0&translation=nsn&oq=&sr=1

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

post signature

error: Content is protected !!