Ruby Tuesdays: A Mighty Woman (part six)

“She opens her arms to the poor and extends her hands to the needy.” (Proverbs 31:20).

I carried them last night.

Four names, scrawled onto a scrap sheet of paper just minutes prior to my departure. Four of your names representing four different requests … four different pains … four different hearts from four different homes. Four lovely women in need of one thing…

A great big God who loves them individually and who is well pleased to receive their names and requests before his throne.

I took them there … carried them in my hands and cradled them tenderly during the entirety of our nightly revival gathering so that I wouldn’t forget; hands are a good place to keep things when forgetfulness is our portion. Why?

Because we depend on them; we use them with almost everything that we do. Thus, when I shook hands in fellowship, when I opened up the hymnal to sing, as I cradled the Word of God, and when I bowed my knees at the altar in prayerful pause, I was deliberate in my remembrance of the four lives that I carried within the palm of my hand.

It was my privilege to do so. When lives behind the names are in need, and my hands are tied as to how much I can “do,” then opening my hands up to receive them for my prayerful consideration seems fitting … feels good and walks better.

I can go about my day, occasionally thinking of names; perhaps even scheduling some times of specific prayer therein. That too, is a fitting discipline for the life of a believer. But when needs are pressing in, when the weight of a world’s intrusion falls heavy and full upon a brother or a sister, sometimes the cause of Jesus Christ is better served by dropping our agendas and by picking up the needs of the brokenhearted … immediately.

Not tomorrow. Not when life slows down or becomes more manageable, but now. Today. The twenty-four hours that lie in our wake. Going into a day, we cannot foresee the needs that will present themselves to us, but we can be sure that they will … present themselves. Our goal in that moment of their arrival is to pay attention, to receive them as our own, and then to fill our hands with a doing that will seed eternal rather than temporal.

That seeding plants in a variety of ways.

Fixing a meal.
Working the carpool line.
Making a phone call.
Writing a note.
Running to the grocery.
Sitting bedside with a loved one.
Sitting beside to a stranger.
Wrapping a need with a hug.
Folding two hands in prayer.

Regardless of the doing, a “mighty woman”—a person of noble character worthy of ruby’s bestowing—is a person who fills his/her hands with the needs of another and who can be trusted with their worth.

Needs are worthy of more than our casual commitment and pleasant platitudes. Needs are worthy of our trust—our reliable convictions that lead us to active participation rather than passive inactivity.

Thus, I carried them last night. Four names. Four of your names to the gathering of the saints in eastern North Carolina, where not only our hearts were revived, but also where your names were presented before the King for his good and holy consideration. Your needs were carried; your needs were heard. Your needs were received by the One and only God who can best service your heart in this difficult and uncertain season.

Some of you have carried my name to Jesus in recent days. Some of you have “picked up” on a few of the signals via my writings and called me to let me know that are cradling my heart before the Father (thank you Sassy…). Some of you have sent e-mails, said some prayers, and have taken me seriously when I asked for your consideration.

You bless me by your sincerity. It is more than I deserve, and yet it is exactly as God intends.

We are the body of Christ; our hands were meant for the helping, for the receiving, and for the carrying of one another’s burdens. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for the times when you have carried mine. It brings me joy and peace to do the same for you. Thus, I pray…

Show me, Father, how I can help my friends. Keep my hands and my heart open to receive the needs of others as they present themselves. Give me the wisdom and grace to willingly embrace the gift of their trust and then keep me mindful of that trust as I go and as I do. Thank you for placing my life within the palm of your hands; may I always be found faithful in leading others to your embrace. Amen.

Copyright © May 2009 – Elaine Olsen

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PS: Join us over at Refreshmoments for more Ruby Tuesdays’ posts. Let me know how I can pray for you today.

In addition, I wanted to let you know about our blogging sister, Denise, who recently lost her blog, “Teacups and Time” for some unknown reason. Can you even imagine that, friends, losing your blog? You can find her at her new address, A Sacred Longing. I know she’d love a visit from friends, new and old.

Paying Attention

“While he [Peter] was still speaking, a bright cloud enveloped them, and a voice from the cloud said, ‘This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!’ When the disciples heard this, they fell facedown to the ground, terrified. But Jesus came and touched them. ‘Get up,’ he said. ‘Don’t be afraid.’ When they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus.” (Matthew 17:4-6).

I didn’t want to go to sleep last night.

Not because I was scared of the dark but because in doing so … in succumbing to a night’s slumber … I was concerned about missing something. A Jesus kind of something. A something that sometimes comes to us in the deep of night when the rest of the world has kindly found its quiet so that we can find our God.

Last night I tossed and I turned and I thought about God. He was there, ever present before me and stirring my imagination in incomparable measure. I couldn’t shut him down. I didn’t want to, so I fought it. Vigorously. Painfully and willfully, until I could no longer force my flesh to the contrary.

My sleep was fitful; I had the “groggies” and the dark circles to prove it this morning as I rolled out of bed to prepare my heart for worship. But it was worth it. Who needs sleep when Jesus is on the brain? Who indeed?!

I’m not sure how I arrived at my late night wrestling, but I have a clue. Prior to going to bed, I spent some time perusing some of my favorite blogs. I came across this one. Its author always makes me pause. She’s eloquent in her delivery of her heart and never ceases to stop me in my tracks and make me think. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I laugh, but most of the time, I simply read and absorb and speak my whispered “yes” to her pen and to my God.

It’s not that her life is overly fantastic. Like most of us, she’s a “day in, day out” kind of person. Her life doesn’t live on the stage nor does she wear a title of fame and fortune. She simply walks her days and writes her thoughts and allows her readers to join her on the road. Even though we’ve never met, I feel the tug of the thread that ties our hearts together despite the miles and choices that separate our journeys.

I thought a long time about my friend last night … about the connection that we share and why her words strike a chord within me. And in the midst of my pondering, just as clearly as I’ve ever sensed the voice of God speaking to me in my spirit, I heard him saying this…

Laura pays attention to life.

“What? Could you say that again, Father? I’m not sure I heard you correctly.”

Laura pays attention to life.

“What does that look like, Father?”

Like details. Like pausing long enough to consider the noises around her. Like being willing to bend to those noises and to pay homage to the moment. Like wrapping up all the truth of a single encounter and writing its worth with all the tenderness a heart can hold. Like finding me in the details. Like…

paying attention to life.

“Well then, Father, teach me to pay attention. Teach me what it means to bow to the moment and to live my life with a richer understanding that you can be found in each one of them.”

And with that, friends, my night’s contemplation began. A conversation with God. A face to face encounter with the only God who can be known and who longs for us to feel the rhythm of his heartbeat as we go and while on the road.

Paying attention to life. It starts for us even as it started for the Apostle Peter.

“Listen to him.”

When we do …

when we stop our mouths from running and our selfishness from needing,
when we refuse our agendas their consumption and our preferences their pleasure,
when we silence our minds from chaos and our determination from willful control,

then we, like the privileged three, will look up and see our exceptional and only Jesus in all of his glory, knowing that we have stood in the presence of sacred moment.

Paying attention to life. Stopping long enough to pay homage to a single moment. That is when we will see our Jesus unfolding his extraordinary kingdom into our ordinary everyday. And to hold that? To walk the soil of that kind of sacred sowing?

Well, for that, my fellow pilgrims, I will labor to fight sleep. I will entreat a night’s wrestling in hopes of receiving a Father’s beholding. I will toss and turn and struggle to override my flesh so that I can take hold of the face of God and carry his glory with me down the mountain into the valley below.

Oh, that we would fix our gaze in intentional pause before our God this day. How he longs to show himself faithful to each one of us when we do. Thus, I pray…

Father, help me to pay attention to life; stop me, pause me, push me and prod me to my knees and to my silence until I can no longer see me but only you in your extravagant splendor and holiness. Embed your glory within my frame. Splash the truth of your living witness all over me until I’m dripping wet with you, Jesus. Forgive me for thinking that my words, my agenda and my needs, are more important than your presence. Break through the clouds this day for my friends, and show them your glory. Penetrate the enemy’s schemes to steal, kill, and destroy, with the awe-inspiring and conquering witness of who you are. Surround our lives with your presence, and then move us forward in obedience to share your truth with a world that needs to stop talking and to start paying attention. You, alone, are worthy of our heart’s pause. Humbly, I concede mine to your revelation this day. Amen.

Copyright © May 2009 – Elaine Olsen

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PS: In honor of my friend, Laura, I would like to honor her with one of the give-away books, “Finding an Unseen God” by Alicia Chole. The other two winners (randomly drawn by my youngins’) are Joanne at Blessed and Sharon at Sit With Me Awhile. Congratulations ladies. Please send me your snail mail via my email, and as soon as I receive the books from Alicia, I will send them to you.

"Finding an Unseen God" by Alicia Chole (a book review)

In January 2008, I had a problem. Not a big one, mind you, but one large enough to force a fix-it. The problem? Not being able to leave a comment on Alicia Chole’s blog regarding her incredible book “anonymous: Jesus’ hidden years and yours” (you can read about “anonymous” by clicking here). At that time, her blog didn’t allow for “anonymous” comments. The solution? Create a blogger account so that I could leave a comment.

There you have it. The sole and initial reason for my entering into this land we call blogosphere (I’m not kidding). It was a simple doing motivated by a simple desire—to be able to communicate with an incredible author whose words had literally changed my heart, almost overnight. There was no immediate desire within me to create my own blog; I just wanted to express my thanks to Alicia for writing her heart so profoundly. Who knew that in doing so, the beginnings of my own “writing of the heart” would surface in a very public way?

God knew. And now you know, and I suppose I have Alicia to thank for that. So thanks, Alicia. But that’s not the fullness of what I want to share with you today. It only scratches at the surface of a deeper sharing. A sharing that springs forth from the treasure of Alicia’s newest book, Finding an Unseen God: Reflections of a Former Atheist.

I received an advance copy last Friday around noon. By 3:00 PM, I had finished my first consumption. I have since read it a second time so as to more fully absorb its truth and, therefore, be able to offer you a few reasons about why this book resonates with me. I’ve decided to take a “cue” from Alicia as to how I might most effectively put my thoughts into words.

Alicia concludes the book with the “five things in particular that this former Atheist really likes about God.”[i] I would like to share with you the “five things in particular” that this avid fan of Alicia’s writing really likes about Finding an Unseen God.

#1. The author.

Alicia is a woman on a mission to serve her God, her family, and her world through her many giftings and graces, in particular … her words. She doesn’t waste a one. She doesn’t write fluff; she simply writes the truth in a way that precisely cuts through the layers to root at the issue of understanding. As I’ve said before (at least a bagillion times), Alicia makes me want to be a better…

writer.
thinker.
mother.
seeker.

God hasn’t grown a more authentic and genuine story-teller than Alicia Britt Chole. She lives what she writes. She writes what she lives. That alone, is enough reason to read anything she’s authored.

#2. The subject.

Our reading choices are mostly mandated by personal preferences, many of them worthy for many different reasons. But as for me, I prefer the non-fiction truth of Jesus Christ over any other genre of literature. I’m not a big reader; for me to read an entire book in one sitting, the subject matter must be compelling. Finding an Unseen God is chock full of compelling and truth.

The “behind the scenes” coming about of Alicia’s faith speaks to the power and providence of a God who is ever-present and profoundly willing to weave the threads of a single life into a strong and powerful conclusion. Alicia’s life is a living-witness to that conclusion. For readers who are struggling with the “bigger picture”—with desperately wanting to trace God’s hands within a murky that currently clouds personal perspective—Finding an Unseen God sheds light and hope toward that end.

What God has done and is continuing to do for Alicia, God is doing for us … shaping perspective and hearts for his kingdom purposes.

#3. The needful knowing.

Many Christians balk at the word “atheism” and are tempted to run in the opposite direction when presented with its position. Why? Well, atheism is sometimes an “odd” fit with our religious speak. We are offended by it because it rubs against the grain of everything we hold sacred—our belief in Jesus Christ. Confronting the truth of Jesus Christ with the antithesis of that truth isn’t an easy swallow. Does that mean we should forego the discussion?

I don’t think so, nor do I think that our Father would have us avoid the confrontation. The Apostle Peter admonishes us toward that end…

“But in your hearts set apart Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect,”. (1 Peter 3:15).

You and I are the keepers of an extraordinary kingdom. Accordingly, we are commissioned with its worth, with its telling, with its defense, and with its love. How can we properly dispense its grace without confronting its contrast? Finding an Unseen God beautifully explains that contrast without all the academic trappings that can sometimes confound the process of understanding.

#4. The permission to unpack

I really like this one. Finding an Unseen God gives us the permission to unpack our faith before our Father. It quietly encourages us to examine our own foundations of truth—how we arrived at the point of believing what we believe. By following Alicia’s spiritual sketching along these lines, we, too, are confronted with the underlying challenge to frame our spiritual history.

#5. The conclusion of truth.

Finding an Unseen God leads to a convincing conclusion:

That in fact, there is an unseen God intent on being found.

Alicia arrives at that conclusion after many years of struggling through the questions that voiced to the contrary. I’ve arrived at the same conclusion. And although our journeys have walked through different strides to get there, both of us have conceded our hearts and lives to the One and Only God whose truth sows certain. Whose love measures endless. And whose grace weaves the threads of the most “unlikely” of us into a masterpiece worthy of the throne room of heaven.

The author. The subject. The needful knowing. The permission to unpack. The conclusion of truth. Five things I like about Alicia’s Finding an Unseen God.

Alicia’s life started with questions that led her to faith. My life started with faith that led me to questions.

Both of us (at 43 years old if I’m correct) have landed here, at this moment in time, applauding and lauding the Lover of our Souls and desperately desiring for you to know the same. We’ve been fashioned for the find, friends. God has commissioned our interior with a “need to know.” And one of the things that both Alicia and I find most likeable about our Creator is that he is the only God who can be known. This sets him apart from every other “god” in the universe.

“This is what the LORD says: ‘Let not the wise man boast of his wisdom or the strong man boast of his strength or the rich man boast of his riches, but let him who boasts boast about this:

that he understands and knows me, that I am the LORD who exercises kindness, justice and righteousness on earth, for in these I delight,’ declares the LORD.” (Jeremiah 9:23-24).

Find your unseen God this day while he still may be found, and know him. He is the only worthy boast of our lives.

As always,

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[i] Alicia Chole, Finding an Unseen God (Minneapolis: Bethany House, 2009), 141.

PS: The winner of the bronze pearl earrings by Lisa Leonard is … Mary at Refreshmoments. Congrats Mary; please send me your snail mail via my email. But wait…

I have 3 autographed copies of Alicia’s book to give-away. Leave a comment, and I will announce the winners next week! Shalom.

A Building Matter…

“Go and tell my servant David, ‘This is what the LORD says: You are not the one to build me a house to dwell in. I have not dwelt in a house from the day I brought Israel up out of Egypt to this day. I have moved from one tent site to another, from one dwelling place to another.’” (1 Chronicle 17:4-5).

I have little time to be here today, friends. Still and yet, I’ve been stuck in 1 Chronicles 17 for the better part of an hour and feel like I want to say something. Nothing new on my end; “saying” something seems an easy fit with my personality. That being said, not all my “saying” is worthy of the “saying.” Are you following me?

Even if you’re not, there’s something I want to say to you. Something I think that God would like for us to remember as we go about the business of our day, desperately trying to “build” a life that matters. We’re all busy building something.

Careers.
Bank accounts.
Families.
Ministries.
Reputations.
Kingdoms.
Faith.
Followers.
Futures.
Agendas.
Selfishness.
___________________ (you fill in the blank).

Regardless of the “dressing” we’re wearing this morning, whether it be a hard hat, a whistle, and briefcase, some overalls, or, perhaps even our pj’s from the night before, you and I woke up to build something this morning. And while our intentions may operate from the purest of motives, nothing will build as lasting … nothing will frame as enduring… without the hands of God in the mix.

Here’s the deal. As Christians, we’re tempted to think that “If we build it, He will come.” Sometimes it seems to happen that way. But there’s a danger in thinking that the work of our hands and hearts can contain the holy presence of Almighty God. Our “building” may sound good on paper … might even match up with the truth of God’s Word and even receive the prayerful support of a well-intentioned committee or a home-team advantage.

But unless God builds it, we labor in vain … in our prideful attempts at trying to make God happen rather than simply letting God be. Where he will. When he will. Moving from one tent to another as he will.

You and I are that tent. As New Testament believers, we house the presence of the living God in this covering of our flesh—a temporary covering that will soon trade in for the eternal cloaking of a forever structure. Wherever we walk, he walks. God inhabits our flesh in order to build his kingdom through us, most days in spite of us. Most days we get it backwards. Most days we move ahead of God’s process.

We build and then we ask and then we wonder what went wrong. Why isn’t it working? Why isn’t the all-consuming fire from God descending upon our precious altar of hard work and sacrifice and causing it to burn with all the fervor and purpose of heaven? Why do the offerings of my brother or my sister’s heart seem more pleasing to God? Where is my payoff for doing something for kingdom?

Oh friends, we mean well. Really we do, and I believe that God honors our meaning well. We can’t always see on the front side of our laboring which way it’s going to go. Sometimes we just jump in with all the wild and wooly of a well-meaning trust, and rather than smacking us down immediately, God tenderly esteems the “want to” behind our building. He sees our hearts that are eager to do something … to be something … to work toward something that will matter in the end.

He doesn’t balk at our desire. Instead, he simply asks us for the shaping of that desire. For us to bring our desire before him … to sit with him in uninterrupted pause and consider the “building” together. As the “tent holders” of an extraordinary King and his kingdom therein, we carry the weighty responsibility of bringing Jesus into the mix of our everyday doings.

Wouldn’t it be better to consult him before dragging him into the work of our hands? In doing so, we might save ourselves a heap of heartache and disappointment on the front end of a long labor.

Regardless of your current building project, God is with you. Whether you started it in vain or whether you’ve sensed his fingerprints from the very beginning. God doesn’t abandon us mid-stream. He may not be a fan of our plan (and therefore calling us to change course), but God has and always will be a fan of our hearts. He understands that we won’t always get it right. That sometimes we let our dreams about “building something bigger” eclipse his dreams about “building something lasting.”

And I don’t know how you stand on the issue, but as for me, I’m after a “something” that is going to last. God determines the size of the building, and whether it is a big thing or a small fraction of that big, it will be a perfect fit into a perfect plan that constructs a perfect kingdom within a perfect forever.

I can live with that. Indeed, I can run with this one. Thus, I’d better get out of these pj’s and get on with my moving on. God’s got something to build through me; you too. And while we may not be able to see the fullness of the plan in this moment, we can be confident that there is one. May we all have the good sense and willing heart to sit before our Father this day and ask for it rather than assuming our wisdom and strength enough to build it. Thus, I pray…

Forgive us, Father, when we think ourselves worthy of building our lives in isolation. Your hands build everlasting. Mine build to dust. Keep me mindful and humble of the chasm between the two. Keep me thankful for the grace that covers my willful ignorance accordingly. Amen.

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PS: Whew… that’s a lot of saying for someone who doesn’t have much time today! That being said, I believe someone needed to hear it. I certainly did. If you want to take further time with this concept, please read 1 Chronicles 17 and see what God might be saying to you about your current “building” project. Mine looks a whole lot like a WIP (work in progress) near completion, but that’s another post for another day. Shalom.

The Amazing Confrontation of Grace

The Amazing Confrontation of Grace

“On hearing it, many of his disciples said, ‘This is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?’ Aware that his disciples were grumbling about this, Jesus said to them, ‘Does this offend you? What if you see the Son of man ascend to where he was before! The Spirit gives life; the flesh counts for nothing. The words I have spoken to you are spirit and they are life. Yet there are some of you who do not believe.’” (John 6:60-64a).

I made a two-year-old cry this morning.

I didn’t mean to make her cry. Singing about the amazing grace of God isn’t supposed to bring one to tears, at least not her kind of tears, but this morning … it did.

Perhaps I sang it too loud. Perhaps too shrill. Perhaps too full of a truth that exceeded the silence of the moment. Regardless of the reasons behind her tears, they came in full measure toward the end of my song, accompanied by her tender proclamation to her grandma, “I don’t like that song.”

It made my heart smile, and then it made my mind think.

The amazing grace of Jesus Christ is a confrontational word. It is meant to stir a response in the hearts of those who sit within earshot of the proclamation. Jesus Christ didn’t go all the way to Calvary and back to keep us paralyzed by its truth. Grace is meant to evoke a response in each one of us.

For some, grace swallows sweet. For some, it’s a longer chew. For others, grace doesn’t swallow … amazing or otherwise. It’s simply too big of a bite for a stomach that is content to gnaw on the stony rations of an uncomplicated understanding.

Just ask them—those “followers” of Christ who were eye-witnesses to the real-time unfolding of grace’s “amazing.” Some would immediately take to its unwrapping. Some would live with it for a season before coming around to acceptance. Some would simply balk at the weight of it and run in the opposite direction. The “them” of Jesus’ day are no different than the “us” of this day.

We like to think that our responses to Jesus would have been different had we been there. That somehow we would have immediately taken to the truth of his living witness. But I don’t think the benefit of a 2000 year hindsight has birthed a better faith in most of us. Why?

Because we have the truth of Christ’s living witness in our midst. He is here among us; he didn’t vanish on a hillside to never be seen again. He’s been presenting himself and his amazing grace to humanity throughout the existence of time. You and I sit on the backside of grace’s redeeming finish; still and yet, its truth isn’t an easy cloaking for many. It is a “hard teaching” in our time, even as it was during its genesis on a Judean soil so long ago.

Does this mean that grace no longer works? That the amazing of John Newton’s 1779 penned reflection lacks in its truthful punctuation about the completed work of the cross? That our many words about the Word have somehow lost their potency … their capacity and strength to transform?

Not at all.

Grace is still amazing. Two thousand years of testing its waters hasn’t diminished its effectiveness. Grace’s truth remains, despite man’s neglect to the contrary. But grace is as grace has always been.

Confrontational.

Thus, some will receive it and some won’t because confrontation pushes the issue of our consent for God’s holy consecration of our lives. Grace stands at the door of a heart and knocks and pleads and invites and offers, but never will it hammer its insistence into the heart of unwillingness. The cross of Jesus Christ will never force its grace into the will of an unbeliever. It only forces a choice in the matter.

Acceptance or rejection. There is no middle ground when it comes to the amazing grace of an amazing God. Hearing his truth requires a response.

As a teenager, I walked my definite response to an altar on a wintry night in Alabama during a youth retreat. In some ways, it was a familiar walk; from my earliest days I have believed in a great big God who loves me beyond reasonable limits. It wouldn’t be the last time I would walk a pilgrimage of surrender. I’m still walking it. I did so today.

Not because I have finally come to the conclusion of what an amazing grace means, but rather because grace and all its amazing is worthy of my bended knee and a heart’s pause that cries out a prayer or two of unashamed thankfulness.

Even when it’s loud. Even when it’s teaching is a hard swallow. Even when it elicits unsuspecting tears. And especially when the fullness of its truth exceeds the worth of a world’s silence to the contrary.

Amazing grace! How sweet the sound!
That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found;
Was blind, but now I see.[i]

How glad I am for the amazing confrontation of God’s grace with my heart. May I never lose the wonder behind its unwrapping. May I always speak the witness of its truth. I pray the same for you. Thus, I offer my plea this day to the One who created us with grace in mind…

Intersect our hearts, Father, with grace’s amazing witness this week. Fill our mouths with the sweetness of its taste. Loudly knock its truth upon the door of our wills so as to drown out the world’s insistence to the contrary. When it’s hard to understand, when it’s difficult to accept, paint grace for us in a way that swallows easy and that portions fully. May our tears pour the witness of understanding rather than the wet of confusion. Gently wrap our faith in the mystery of Love’s redeeming work and then give us the ample courage to tie the bow accordingly. What we now know in part, we will one day fully grasp. Keep us in revenant anticipation of that final revelation. Amen.

[i] Robert J. Morgan, “Amazing Grace,” Then Sings My Soul (Nashville: Thomas Nelson Publishers, 2003), 78-79.

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