Beyond Zero

Beyond Zero

“My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” (Psalm 139:15-16).

“Mom, when I was born was I zero?”

I knew what she meant even as she spoke these words from her tender heart. Three other children had prepared me for such a question. She wanted to know when we began to count her days. Did her days begin on August 5, 2002, or did some other time span factor in? I was quick to respond.

“Honey, you have never been a zero. We began to count your days long before we saw your face. God began to count your days even before then.”

She stared out the window, her curiosity satisfied, as mine began its ascent.

When does life begin? Is there ever a point of “zero-ness”? A moment of nothing that suddenly explodes into everything? How would you respond to such a question? Your answer embodies your theology.

Long before Amelia made her entrance into our lives, she stole the stage of her Father’s thoughts. I never imagined having a daughter. If it had been up to me, there would have only been three. But in a moment unbeknownst to me, God imagined her. He determined her entrance. He determined her exit. All of her days he determined…before one cry resounded from her lips.

For some mysterious reason, he chose the confines of my womb to house her unformed body, as he carefully put frame and flesh to his wild imaginings. He fashioned her in my likeness and implanted within her emotions of the same severity. He knew this would bring me delight, as my three sons bare only a slight resemblance. Indeed, she is cut from my cloth by the same hands Who cut me from my mother’s. Who knitted me together and adorned my life with splashes of untamed color and limitless possibilities.

He set eternity into her heart long before I would hear its pulse (Ecc. 3:11). Indeed, who can fathom what God has done from beginning to end? His thoughts are not my thoughts. They are higher and far more sacred than mine. They are innumerable and vast…outnumbering the grains of the sand (Psalm 139:17-18). And yet it is those thoughts…that one thought in the mind of my God…that shatters my known realities and brings me to surrendered knees every time I think upon it.

Human life has never been a “zero.” Those who speak chronologically…politically and correctly…well, they give us a starting point. Life begins at birth. But I have never quite understood political correctness. I speak the language of my Father, and I believe that life begins before birth. I believe that life begins before conception. Life begins in the thoughts of God.

In the genesis of all beginnings, God hovered over his waters. Somewhere in the vast brushstrokes of this earth’s conception…between seemingly “nothing” and everything…God’s breath began to move the waves in rhythm with his will. Somewhere there…in the mind of the most mysterious and yet One and only accessible God, we were in his thoughts. We were the intended outcome of his six day extravaganza. The first five days were simply a prelude to our unveiling—to our center stage moment that received a “very good”…from the lips of our Audience.

He knows the thoughts he thinks toward us. Thoughts of peace, and not of evil. Thoughts of an expected end. Plans and a future filled with prospering hope and possibilities (Jeremiah 29:11). He determines the times set for us and the exact places where we should live. The generation in which we will live. He did this so that we would seek him (Acts 17:26-28). So that we would reach beyond our known realities and search for deeper Truth. Better Truth. Truer Truth. The only Truth that matters in the end. For in the end…

Jesus is the Way…the Truth…and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through him, and I want to meet my Father…face to face. So I will accept the unknowns of this life, knowing that one day I will have my answers. For all of the mysteries that he holds hidden within his heart, there is one mystery that is perfectly clear within mine.

I am not a zero. Never have been. Neither have you. You are the creative genius of a God who ordained all of your days before one of them came into being. Your life took planning. Even if your parents did not plan your existence…your God did. He has spent an eternity watching you take shape in his mind, and now he is pleased to introduce you to his world. You are the sixth day punctuation point of your Father’s heart. Never underestimate your beginning. Never “get over” Who awaits you at your end.

In closing, I ask you to consider, once again, the question of my daughter’s heart.

“Mom, when I was born was I zero?”

What do you think? Does she look like a zero? Search your heart, even as I have searched mine. Do so with some fear and trembling under the mighty guidance of your Creator. Casual pondering leads to casual theology. And so I pray, alongside you…

Father, search my heart. Deepen my understanding of my beginning. Give me a sacred theology, one that most closely resembles who you really are. Let me not be swayed by earthly opinion…by tainted religions and philosophies that demean the process of your Creation. Give me your perspective on human life. A higher and clearer perspective that values your thoughts more than man’s limited realities. Shake my realities, Lord, until they fall in line with the Truth. Thank you that I have always been your constant thought and never a zero. May you always be my Constant. Beginning to end…all of my days belonging to you. Amen.

peace for the journey~elaine
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Sacred Tuesdays

Sacred Tuesdays

“As you come to him, the living Stone—rejected by men but chosen by God and precious to him—you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.” (1 Peter 2:4-5).

Sacred days. Days set apart as extraordinarily different. Special. Unique and consecrated for purpose. Sabbath days. Twenty-four hours given to God for God’s intended end. Some would call it Sunday, and indeed, Sundays are meant for all things sacred. But there is another day in my week…a Tuesday…that receives the seal of God’s sacred authenticity.

What makes a Tuesday sacred?

Tuesdays are my stone laying days. Days when I stand alongside my sisters in Christ to build a spiritual unity. Days when we lay our precious stones beside and upon one another because our Architect has a plan in mind. A building he’s building. A spiritual house resting on the foundation of his Calvary love and built with the nails of his surrender.

A holy priesthood of believers. A collective unity comprised of unique individualities. Living… breathing…flesh-walking stones. Stones with names. Stones I call friends. Stones who are willing to lay their lives alongside me as a corporate sacrifice to our God.

Sacred Tuesdays began soon after my arrival to this community four years ago.

They began with a group of women called the “lunch bunch.” It was an accidental gathering. A first lunch shared with two of my senior friends at a local café. God stirred our hearts for fellowship on that warm summer day, and rarely has there been a Tuesday when we have neglected that stirring. The lunch bunch has grown to include anywhere from six to twelve women. I pride myself on being the youngest, but I am humbled by their exceedingly great wisdom.

Years of walking with God have taught them much about living life at a sacred level. I glean abundance from their teaching. They don’t impose it upon me. They simply live it. And through our laughter and eating and talking and listening, God is pleased to continue with his build.

He joins us at the table and consecrates our lives for sacred living. One stone after another, until a sturdy portion of faith finds its home along the walls of his house.

These lunches are a gift to me and would have been enough to qualify any of my Tuesdays as sacred. But my God is a “more than enough” kind of God, and he decided to punctuate my Tuesdays with another portion of his sacred build.

He gave me Bible study. Just as quickly as the “lunch bunch” weaved their way into my hearts, so did my Bible study group. Tuesday nights seemed a good fit with our church’s schedule of “doings,” and thus began our gatherings to study God’s Word. Ten Bible studies and 103 Tuesday nights later, we are still gathering. We number in the 20’s, 30’s, or 40’s on any given night. It matters not our numbers. What matters is that we come seeking God, offering up our worship to him as sacred sacrifice.

God is faithful to meet us around our tables. He consecrates our lives for sacred living…one stone after another…until a sturdy portion of faith finds its home along the walls of his house.

Indeed, from beginning to end, my Tuesdays are sacred. They belong to God and to the women he has so graciously scripted into my life. Apart from him, Tuesdays would simply be another day. A day when all manner of lunches and gatherings take place. But days and moments that include him? These are sacred days. And when he graces them with fellow pilgrims alongside, we are in for a build of the most sacred kind.

We are being built into a kingdom. A kingdom that cannot be shaken or destroyed. A kingdom constructed by the hands of a King who lays our stone alongside another’s and cements our purpose with sacred and sturdy surety.

Alone, my stone remains simply a solitary piece of rock incapable of supporting little more than my lofty ideals and feeble faith. But my stone alongside another and another and another? Well, we become a wall in the great house of God! The temple where he chooses to make his dwelling. And for that consecrated privilege, I willingly cast my stone at his feet.

Sacred Tuesdays. They are worthy of my obedience. They are God’s gracious gift to me. I pray that you know a similar portion. If not, then you are welcome to this table of grace. Come and sit awhile with my Father and me. It is my great joy to lay some stones alongside you as we yield to the Builder. He is after a masterpiece my friends, and in the end, we will marvel at his handiwork. Your story…your stone…weaves its way into mine. And so I pray,

Weave me, Living God, into your story of grace. This day, I come to you as a living stone, asking for your hands to place me within the wall of your spiritual house. Thank you for sacred Tuesdays—for moments in my life when I stand alongside my fellow pilgrims to build your kingdom. You knew I needed them, Lord…my Tuesday girls. I think they may have needed me, too. Together we are doing far more than we could ever do alone. We are being built into a holy priesthood, and this day I offer you my stone for the laboring. Let it not be in vain, Lord, for I long to be used for kingdom purpose. Guide me to such a sacred end. Amen.

And without further fanfare…allow me to introduce to you some of my Tuesday girls of grace!





peace for the journey~elaine

Losing the Baby Fat

“For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.” (1 Corinthians 13:9-11).

I spent yesterday morning at a kindergarten party celebrating the literary genius of Dr. Seuss. On the menu? Green eggs and ham, of course. Amidst the blending of green and eggs, the conversation amongst the chefs turned to babies. Baby fat in particular. Goals for losing the baby fat, to be more precise. I commented that I, too, was trying to lose my baby fat. When the others asked me how old my baby was, I smiled and answered…

Almost nineteen!

We had a good laugh at my expense. Yes, there have been three other babies since that moment back in 1989. Each one of them has added to my poundage, and they remain my excuse for the condition of this fleshly frame.

Losing the baby fat. As it is with my physical frame, so it is with my spiritual nature.

It’s not always been an easy road…this casting off of childish things. I am prone to my toddler thinking. To my whining and to my possessive nature. To a mouth that doesn’t know when to keep its silence. To selfish play where “my rules” outweigh the common good. To ears that selectively hear. To a mind that egocentrically thinks. Indeed, I have not lost all of my baby fat. Years of living as a child have added to my spiritual poundage. It weighs me down and keeps me from being the woman of God that I desire to be.

I want to lose some weight. I want to cast off the talking, the thinking, and the reasoning of my childhood. I want to speak more thoughtfully, think more carefully, and reason more sacredly. But all of my wanting and wishing will never lead me to a thorough embrace of spiritual adulthood. It’s a good start…this desire within. But unless it is channeled through a heart of obedience that bends to a Father’s shaping, my shape will always remain in a wanton state. Overweight and unfit for kingdom living.

So how do I move on to my perfection? I identify the source of my poundage, and I begin its neglect.

My “source” is linked to my mind and to my mouth. And as this mind thinketh, so it speaketh. Therefore, my pilgrimage to perfection begins with my neglect of these two contributors—a neglect of my words, and a neglect of those unhealthy thoughts that collect dust upon my mind’s shelf.

For me, it means less talking. Less television. Less internet surfing. Less secular music. Less shopping. Less eating. Less of everything that keeps my mind captivated on “less than” pursuits.

On the contrast, it means more silence. More time in God’s Word. More time listening and reading of resources that are birthed from a sacred perspective. More investment in people instead of things. More conscious decisions regarding my food choices. Simply, more of anything that keeps my mind fixed on my “more than” pursuit. My pursuit of Godly perfection. My pursuit of my Maker.

I can remain as I am…a child of God filled with childish thinking. Or, I can make the choice to move on. To grow up and begin to rid my flesh of the weight that loads my journey and hampers my progress. To become a child of God filled with Godly perspective…holier thinking…a more sacred reasoning.

I ask my kids what they want to be when they grow up. God asks the same of me this day. Forty-one years down the road, he continues to probe my heart for a deeper walk of grace. His, is a welcome prod, for I am ready to shed some weight.

It is time to relinquish the baby fat, my friends. Time to give up the milk and to begin our neglect of the “source” of our poundage. Time to focus, instead, on receiving the spiritual nourishment that will feed our minds and our souls for a life of sacred purpose. Time for a mature walk of faith that finds no contentment in making any further excuses.

We have been given everything we need for such a walk. As believers in Jesus Christ, we have been given God’s Spirit, and his Spirit is full of power. It is a power that exceeds the grave. It is a power that has authority and rule and dominion over everything beneath his feet (Eph. 1:18-21). It is a power bestowed upon us because of a Calvary love. It is a power I want and a power I need if I am going to move on to a life of spiritual adulthood.

And so today, I stand on the scales of my “current” for a full assessment. God and I have some work to do; therefore, I commit to the journey of perfection. Perhaps you, too, have a little baby fat left to lose. I invite you to join me on the pilgrimage. Stand on the scales of your current, and ask God to examine your heart. He is faithful to poke and to probe, in order to surface the source of your poundage. Let us begin our neglect of some “things,” and let us embrace the passionate pursuit of the one thing…the one God whose immeasurable love isn’t content to leave us as we are.

I want to put away childish things and so I pray…

“Take my life and let it be, consecrated Lord to Thee. Take my hands and let them move, at the impulse of Thy love. Take my feet and let them be, swift and beautiful for Thee. Take my voice and let me sing, always only for my King. Take my lips and let them be, filled with messages for Thee. Take my silver and my gold; not a mite would I withhold. Take my love, my God, I pour, at Thy feet its treasure store. Take myself and I will be ever, only, all for Thee. Ever only all for Thee.”[i]

Move me on to Thy perfection, Lord, for I am ready to be made mature and complete in You, lacking in nothing. Amen.

peace for the journey~elaine

[i] Frances Havergal, “Take My Life,” 1873.

A Sacred Theology

“Many rebuked him and told him to be quiet, but he shouted all the more, ‘Son of David, have mercy on me!’ Jesus stopped and said, ‘Call him.’ So they called to the blind man, ‘Cheer up! On your feet! He’s calling you.’ Throwing his cloak aside, he jumped to his feet and came to Jesus. ‘What do you want me to do for you? Jesus asked him. The blind man said, ‘Rabbi, I want to see.’” (Mark 10:48-51).

I did not like the song the first time I heard it. I love the singers of the song. I love the melody of the song. I simply do not like the lyrics of the song. I wanted to like it. I have tried to ignore my reasons for not liking it, but when my college age son asked me last night as to my “thoughts” about the song, my spirit confirmed my gut.

Anytime a song invokes the name of God, my ears pay close attention. When God’s character becomes the central theme of a song, my theology pays attention. The more that I come to know my God, the more protective I am about his reputation. My walk with Christ is not casual or coincidental. I do not participate in this faith journey because of convenience. No, my walk with God is an intentional pursuit of the Sacred. Rarely is it convenient, and never is it coincidental.

I take my God seriously. The defense of his character is a sacred privilege. So when a “casual theology” makes its way into the lyrics of a song, I take pause to consider its merit.

The song is called, “God Must Be Busy,” sung by the beloved country duo, Brooks and Dunn. It chronicles the tragedies of life. War, tornados, missing children, and unemployment. Gangs, droughts, and financial woes. Indeed, these topics are the “makings” of a good country song. But it is the fifty-two word chorus that exceeds the boundaries of good country music to voice a theology that does not match up with mine. How does it match up with yours?

“And I know in the big picture, I’m just a speck of sand.
And God’s got better things to do than look out for one man.
I know He’s heard my prayers, ‘cause He hears everything.
He just ain’t answered back or He’d bring you back to me.
God must be busy.”[i]

A busy God. A God who hears, but yet a God whose agenda leads him past a single man’s need to focus, instead, on better things. Bigger needs. A God who does not answer prayers because the sands of the many exceed the speck of the one.

Our God is not too busy. In fact, the characterization of “busy” does not fit with an Almighty Creator. It is a casual and convenient limitation, placed upon a limitless God when life does not make sense. When prayers seem to go unnoticed and, ultimately, unanswered. When blindness boasts its habitation within a soul. No, when we typify our God as busy, we speak of God, as Job would say, “with words without knowledge.”

Jesus Christ shattered such a casual theology on the day that his feet hit the sands of an inconvenient, intentional walk of redemption. Scripture is seasoned with occasions when Christ prioritized the need of the one over the needs of the many. It was not an approach that his disciples easily embraced. After all, Christ was a sought after commodity. He had places to go. People to heal. Parties to attend. Seas to walk. Crowds to feed. Hillside podiums and temple classrooms to mount.

But along his scheduled way to the masses, Jesus always made his way to the one. To the bleeding. To the dying. To the lame and to the shamed. To the leprous and to the lonely. Wherever Jesus walked, his mercy companioned his steps. And it was this mercy that led Jesus, some 2000 years ago, to stop along his Jericho pilgrimage to answer a blind man’s cry for help.

“‘Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.’”

The disciples wanted to push on. Jesus wanted to pause, and over time, his disciples would learn that Jesus’ pause always trumped their push.

“But Jesus stopped and said, ‘Call him.’ So they called to the blind man, ‘Cheer up! On your feet! He’s calling you.’”

The blind man was summoned to his Savior’s side and was given the opportunity to voice his need.

“‘What do you want me to do for you?’ Jesus asked him.”

His response was the right one.

“‘I want to see.’”

Jesus gave him his heart’s desire. He gave him his sight. And in a moment’s pause, a beggar once blind, opened his eyes for the first time to embrace the eyes of Mercy…face to face. His intentional pursuit of God was trumped by God’s intentional pursuit of him. One on one. Creator to his created. A sacred theology that I can, and willingly do embrace.

God has always been about us. From the beginning of time, he has been in holy pursuit of us. He listens for our voice as we cry out to him for mercy. Never once does he “push” past our pain. Never does the need of the masses hinder him from stopping to tend to the need of our one. He is faithful to pause in the midst of our cries and to ask of us what he asked of Bartimaeus so long ago…

What do you want me to do for you?

This is not the question of a busy God. This is a question of entreaty from a God who lovingly waits for a response.

How would you answer his question this day? What do you want him to do for you? He made the journey to Calvary so that you would have the sacred privilege of voicing your answer. He will never force your reply. He only asks because he is our Abba Father, and our Daddy longs to give good gifts to his children.

Oh friends, be of good cheer this day! Come to your feet and cast the cloak of your want aside. Jesus the Savior is calling you. This is the day to receive your sight. To embrace a sacred theology…a better and bigger theology that extends beyond the temporal. Our God is big, and he is worthy of our defense. Let us press on to know him more, so that when the world asks, we will be able to give a reason for the hope that we have.

No higher privilege exists for us as his ministers of reconciliation, and so I pray…

Mold my mind to understand the fullness of your character, Lord. Never let me limit Who you are. Quicken my spirit to false theologies, so that I may defend your holy and sacred Name. Thank you for all the times that you have paused to consider my pleas. You are ever with me, Lord. You are ever listening, Father. You are ever shaping my vision for kingdom living. Thank you for bringing sight to these weary and blinded eyes. Let the words of this mouth and the meditation of this heart be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my Strength and my Redeemer (Ps. 19:14). Amen.

peace for the journey~elaine
[i] Brooks and Dunn, “God Must Be Busy,” Cowboy Town, 2007.

A Sacred Song

“Then King David went in and sat before the LORD, and he said: ‘Who am I, O LORD God, and what is my family, that you have brought me this far? And as if this were not enough in your sight, O God, you have spoken about the future of the house of your servant. You have looked on me as though I were the most exalted of men, O Lord God.’” (1 Chronicles 17:16-17).

He was a composer of music. A poet of lyrics. A singer of songs. A man in pursuit of his Maker. His name was David, and he was God’s beloved. He talked to God in the way that I want to talk to God. With real words. With truthful intent. With raw, unedited emotion that trusts the process…that believes that the One who is on the receiving end will receive my words with grace…with mercy…with love.

David’s life was meant for a song, for indeed, he had known the grace and mercy and far-reaching love of his God. David knew what it was to be exalted among men. Greater still, he lived his journey knowing the exultation of his Father, and in the end, we benefit from the remnants of such a gracious knowing. We are left to the great examination of David’s life by studying the song he left behind—his walk of grace as sung to us through the words of scripture.

Many of his melodies are recorded in the Psalms—a book of songs that lead a heart on pilgrimage. They are meditations for the soul that harmonize with our emotions to orchestrate a tune of perfect pitch. We cannot help but be moved by their effecting power. No matter the season of our current living, we find our story within the Psalms and take our place alongside our spiritual ancestors to chorus its truth.

This generation boasts some modern-day Psalmists—poets who pen God’s truth with the same raw emotion of King David. Psalmists who create songs that span the spectrum of human preference and personal taste, but who remain unified in their purpose to move our emotions and our wills to a higher place of worship…of acknowledging the Song-Giver.

I asked my Bible study friends regarding their preferences for worship…for songs that quickly move them into the presence of our Father. Some preferred contemporary songs, while others chose the hymns of their youth. Songs like…

I Can Only Imagine. This is the Day. You Raise Me Up. Shackles. His Eye is on the Sparrow. I Know My Redeemer Lives. He Lives. It is Well. How Great Thou Art. Great is Thy Faithfulness. Believe. Open the Eyes of my Heart. Awesome God. Beyond the Sunset. Praise You in the Storm. The Anchor Holds.

These are just a few of the pilgrimage songs that mean so much to the women in my life. But there was one song that received more press than the others. A top vote-getter. A song well familiar to pilgrims for nearly three centuries.

It was penned by the heart of a psalmist named John Newton. John grew up in England during the 1700’s where he was groomed for a life at sea. John worked as a crewman on fishing vessels and would later stand at the helm of many slave-trading ships. His conversion to Christ came through the hardships that he experienced while at sea. Tempestuous storms and fevered sickness carried John on pilgrimage to Jesus, and once he arrived at grace, his heart turned to the pursuit of the grace-Giver.

John would spend the rest of his years preaching about this God—this water-Walker who met him in the storms of life and who offered him such an amazing grace. It was a sweet-sounding grace that permeated his wretched condition and brought him home to his Father. In 1772, as John was preparing for an upcoming New Year’s Day sermon, he pondered the thoughts of King David as found in 1 Chronicles 17:16-17:

“… ‘Who am I, O Lord God, and what is my family, that you have brought me this far?’ … ”

John’s heart echoed with the similar sentiment of King David, as he penned his thoughts to write what would become one of the most cherished pilgrim songs of today. Amazing Grace. Grace Amazing. A favorite song…psalm…scripted by the hands of a man who had experienced the fullness of such a sacred bounty.

I, too, have known such a portion. God’s amazing grace began its work on my behalf long before I had the heart and the will to receive its effecting power. But there came a day when I did perceive it and, thus, received it and began my pilgrimage home to my Father.

I may not be able to write a tune like King David or John Newton, but the Song of their hearts persists deep within me. He scripts my days and pens my purpose. He punctuates my life with meaning. He is the melody of his Father’s love. His name is Jesus, and, indeed, his grace is amazing.

Today, I sing because of it. Not out of requirement, but because this listless and stammering tongue can think of nothing or no one more worthy of my praise. I want to be a psalmist like David…like John. And so I pray…

Father, take my words…my raw, unedited emotions…and script them for your eternal purposes. Let me not be afraid of my voice. Instead, let my voice be the instrument that you use to sing your peace, your grace, and your love to world that longs to hear a better Song. A world that needs to sing a better Song. You are that Song, Lord. You have written your melody upon my heart. Today, I release my voice to sing its grace. Amen.

And now…sing with Chris Tomlin—one of God’s most anointed psalmists of our day—this familiar song of old.

peace for the journey~elaine

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