Peace for the Journey | Elaine Olsen

Running my Peace…

August 28, 2010

“… You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body.” (1 Cor. 6:19b-20)

I just got in from my run. It felt good… almost sacred. The time is fast coming when I’ll have to put running away for a short season. I can’t imagine myself running then… after surgery. So I don’t… imagine. Instead, I run in my today, because today is all I have been given and because running is a discipline that has been part of my life for twenty-five years.

I’m a runner. Not a fast one, but what I lack in speed I make up for in obedience. I’m a deliberate runner. A runner who chooses to lace up her shoes even when her heart lags behind. Why? Because running is good for my body. In doing so, it also serves the well-being of my mind, heart, and soul. It’s a way of honoring this temporal flesh that, for reasons beyond my understanding, God has chosen to make for his dwelling.

My flesh doesn’t belong to me. Neither does yours. We think that it does; spend a great deal of time and money pretending that it does, but the truth is…God paid a high price for our flesh—the flesh of his One and only Son. Accordingly, it belongs to him… all of it. No body part is exempt. I understand this more fully now; I thought I had a pretty good understanding prior to my diagnosis, but now the focus has become clearer.

In my quiet time yesterday morning, I handed over my flesh to him again. Over the course of my forty-four years, I’ve come to the altar in the matter of my flesh on many occasions. Time and again, God has been faithful to gather up my remnants and cradle them as his own. Today he cradles them again; today he cradles more of me—my all. What remains of my flesh is all that I have left to offer him. Long ago, I settled the matter regarding my heart. It’s been God’s for as long as I can remember, but I imagine my flesh has been lagging behind.

No longer, my friends. No longer. And here’s what I’m thinking about tonight…

God’s kingdom is an everlasting kingdom. It’s an enduring kingdom. It’s going to go forward regardless of my fleshly surrender. Therefore, I have two choices standing before me in this season:

To be a participant in God’s kingdom or to remain as an outsider.

I’m in… all in with God and his kingdom plan. In this time of change for me and my family, I pray you won’t find me on the sidelines of faith; I pray that, instead, you will find me leading the charge… staying the course and shouting the victory every step of the way. I want to keep running, friends, especially on those days when my flesh cries out for complacency. I want to keep doing what I’ve been doing for as long as I can remember.

I want to keep living Jesus, out loud and on purpose. It’s all I know to do.

I want to close this post with some thoughts from one of my favorite authors, Alicia Chole. In her book Anonymous she shares an important, life-changing truth that embedded its witness into my heart upon my first reading it a few years ago. Almost immediately upon receiving my cancer diagnosis I thought upon it. It’s been my shadow over these last few days. With Alicia’s permission, I share it with you tonight:

Marie was a very private person, but when she opened up the door to her personal life you needed to take notes. I always called her with a journal open and a pen poised. This woman was profound. And like most truly profound people, she was intimately familiar with pain. One day, Marie told me about a friend who visited her in the hospital after her third miscarriage. Trying to console her, the well-meaning friend had said, “You know, Marie, God is going to make you even stronger through this.”

My mentor smiled, thanked her friend, and thought about her words for several days. Relaying the hospital conversation to me, Marie explained that though she appreciated her friend’s intention, she questioned her friend’s conclusion about the purpose of pain. Marie ended our time together that day with the thought: “I feel that trials do not prepare us for what’s to come as much as they reveal what we’ve done with our lives up to this point.”

As Marie considered the pain of her third miscarriage, she realized that her response to this trial was less of a window into her future than it was a window into her past. Her current choices reflected and revealed her past choices. How had she responded previously when her dearest dreams perished in her womb? Did she withdraw from God in bitterness or come near to him with her unanswered questions? Had she tried to outrun the pain, or had she given herself permission to grieve and let the tears wash her wounds? The choices of her yesterdays were revealed through the window of her responses to her current trial.

In other words, trials tell us less about our future than they do about our past. Why? Because the decisions we make in difficult places today are greatly the product of decisions we made in the unseen places of our yesterdays. (Alicia Chole, Anonymous, Integrity Publishers, 2006, pg. 14-15).

What decisions are you making in your today that will better prepare you for your tomorrow? Are you currently complacent regarding your faith? Are you tending to your soul? Are you taking time to study God’s Word and to be in fellowship with other Christian believers who are building your faith rather than tearing at your resolve? Are you working in your churches? Are you praying every day? Are you listening to the promptings of God’s Spirit within? Are you participating in God’s kingdom cause? Are you speaking your faith? Are you loving God, knowing God, celebrating God, believing God?

If you are, then you can be certain that when tough times role your way, you will be well-equipped to handle the struggle. If you’re not, then it is time to start making some better choices today. Time to start deliberately living your faith, friends. Time to step it up and keep pace with the King. It’s what I plan to do in my “next.”

Cancer may be my “next,” but so is Jesus. I’ll be doing them both—cancer and Jesus together. I’ll be living them both with a kingdom view in mind. I pray your willingness to join me on the road. As always…

Peace for the journey,

~elaine

PS: I cannot begin to express to you my heartfelt thanks for all the many kindnesses you’ve extended to me in the past few days. There simply isn’t any way to make it around to all of your blogs and weigh in with my paltry “two-cents” right now, but as I can, I will visit you, because I dearly love you each one. Every now and again, I’ll give you a health update. Here’s the short version for tonight:

I had an MRI this morning in Greenville. After much thought and prayer, we’ve made the decision to stick with the breast oncologist there. He’s incredibly kind, and the man knows breasts! He’s also a man with a plan who is ready to move on with surgery, etc. We’ll be traveling back there on Monday to discuss the results of the MRI and how we will proceed. I imagine that things will move quickly. I want to take a moment to thank Rev. Homer Morris of Jarvis Memorial UMC for graciously gifting us with a motel room in Greenville last evening so that we wouldn’t have to endure a lengthy travel time this morning prior to my 7:00 AM appointment. I also want to thank my good friend, Judith, for receiving my many cancer related questions like “What is an MRI?” and “What should I wear?” (The bedpants and warm socks were a life-saver friend!). And of course, I want to give a special shout-out to my parents and Billy’s parents for being willing to make the trip to help us with childcare. Truly, you know what it means to “circle the wagons,” and we are so blessed to have you with us to love us as only a momma and daddy can do.

Praying my Peace…

August 24, 2010

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Phil. 4:6-7)

Before I write my heart to you this morning, I need you to know this one thing up front:

I’m writing from a place of prayerfulness and peacefulness in the Lord… emphasis on the “fullness.” With prayer comes peace. It’s God’s promise to us as his children. Several years ago, I memorized this portion of Scripture because it was a promise I could hang my heart on—a truth that has proven truthful to me time and again as I have been faithful to meet the requirement therein…

To pray about everything.

Prayer is directly connected to the thoughts of our hearts and minds. Keeping connected to the King in prayer is a fail-safe way of taking all thoughts captive and making them obedient to Christ. When we’re talking to him, listening to him, sharing life with him in the most personal of ways, we experience one of the purest, most holy avenues of worship we’ll ever know on this side of eternity. When we pray, we acknowledge our humanness and our righteousness all in the same breath. Prayer is the link between our flesh and our faith, between our hearts and God’s.

Prayer is a gift and a privilege and the one reason I am able to type this next sentence with a strong measure peace in my heart.

My good and kind friends, I have breast cancer.

Yesterday marked the beginning of my official diagnosis. Today marks the beginning of my living within the reality of what all of that means. I imagine it’s been with me while—the cancer—hiding quietly in the lower quadrant of my right breast. Three weeks ago a mammogram detected a discrepancy which led to further tests which led to a biopsy which led to yesterday’s labeling. And while it has come as a shock to my family (and rightly so) there is a deep sense of understanding and “settling” within my spirit. I can only attribute that kind of personal peace to the prayers and the faith that have been lived out prior to this moment in time.

God has well-prepared me for the road ahead, friends. I haven’t a clue as to the particulars, and I’m certain that there will be times of confusion, pain, questions, and tears. But I’m also certain that there will be times of clarity, answers, joys, and victories. This morning, I’m reminded of something that God scripted onto my heart a season back when a similar “threat” loomed on my horizon (first written in this post). He has embedded it into my thoughts over time; it will serve as an anchor for me in the days to come.

“It doesn’t matter how long God chooses to preserve my earthly life. What matters is how I choose to preserve him in the earthly life I’ve been given.”

Pray that I preserve him well each step of the way. And if you would, please pray for my family—that God would give them, each one, a similar measure of peace and strength for the journey ahead. We walk it together, you and me and them. It’s what Christians do best—corporately loving and living out our kingdom conferment. You bless me with the gift of your friendship—your sacred participation in my life; I need it now more than ever. As always…

Peace for the journey,

~elaine

sacred remembrance…

August 16, 2010

“Give thanks to the LORD, call on his name; make known among the nations what he has done. Sing to him, sing praise to him; tell of all his wonderful acts. Glory in his holy name; let the hearts of those who seek the LORD rejoice. Look to the LORD and his strength; seek his face always. Remember the wonders he has done, his miracles and the judgments he pronounced.” (Psalm 105:1-5)

I haven’t told you this story before.

Tonight seems a good fit for the telling. Why? Because tonight I need to remember. Remembering is one of the major mandates that God laid at the feet of his people throughout Scripture, thus becoming a lasting mandate for us as well.

To remember. To recall where we’ve been… where we’ve come from and the faithfulness of God therein. Remembrance is particularly helpful in a season where chaos abounds and our faith proffers more like a molecule rather than a mustard seed. As we become intentional with our remembrance—especially as it pertains to God’s everlasting faithfulness in seasons past when troubles assailed us and we couldn’t determine the workings of his hand only to be surprised in the end by a miraculous return to peace—when we recall those moments of grace and deliverance, then we’re better able to take hold of the doubts that overwhelm us in our current seasons of travail.

God knew back then, even as he knows now, the power that comes with our sacred remembering. Thus, tonight I remember… a day in recent history. A day dated April 14, 2010. But before we get there, let me set the stage.

In early February of this year, my husband received a call from our District Superintendent informing us that we were on the “move list.” No other details were offered, only that we were to begin making preparations for a move, both emotionally and physically. Over the next couple of months we did just that… not only preparing our hearts for a move, but also preparing the hearts of the congregation we’d served for six years. It was a difficult preparation from many different angles. That being said, we’re accustomed to moving. We’re a Methodist clergy family, wholly… holy committed to the itinerant lifestyle.

Fast forward to April 12, 2010. We received a call from our DS informing us of where our next pastorate would be. On paper, all made good sense. Great location; big enough parsonage; thriving congregation; a salary in keeping with expectation. We spent the day contemplating our “next,” but as the day wore on, so did our concerns. Before nightfall, we were a complete mess. We couldn’t put our finger on the pulse behind our concerns, but we knew something was amiss. The next morning, we received an answer.

A phone call arrived informing my husband of a situation surrounding our new appointment. In good conscience and after heavy deliberation with me and with God in prayer, my husband respectfully requested he be re-assigned to a new church. There’s always a risk that comes with making such a request of the Bishop, especially at the eleventh hour when appointments were being set in stone. To say that we were crushed in spirit with the recent revelation is to say too little. We had long felt this would be our moving year. Even prior to us knowing about our moving status, God had prompted our hearts along those lines. We were, however, content to let the process run its course, believing that God would move the hearts of the Bishop and his cabinet if he so desired to move us to a new place of ministry.

The day was fraught with anxiety. Hours went by before hearing anything. And then he called. Not God… the Bishop. He was sympathetic to our concerns and assured us that we could return to our previous appointment without any problem. And then, he offered a postscript.

“By the way, I have another appointment you might be interested in…”—something about a dying congregation, about our coming in as a first, test-case for a revitalization effort going on within the UM church and how our support would be generated in partnership between this new church and the conference. I wasn’t thrilled; I was confused.

Thus began an all night deliberation regarding a “move” not in keeping with our personal expectations. However, by morning, we’d decided to “go” with a few conditions attached to our “going.” Apparently, conditions don’t always mesh well with a Bishop’s offer, thereby creating another five tenuous hours of back and forth between my husband and the Bishop’s cabinet. Not handling the pressure very well, I did what all smart women do when confused.

I went shopping.

I told my husband that my phone would be on and that he should call me should something change. He did… a couple of times. His voice was tearful, his pain palpable. It didn’t look like a move was going to “press through” for us this year. During his final call to me, he said, “Elaine, the DS just called again and wanted to know if he should remove us from the ‘move’ list.” I hesitantly replied with my “yes.” We closed our conversation, and I headed to the dressing room.

And then it happened… a moment I couldn’t have planned… a moment I didn’t anticipate. As I live and breathe, I was standing before the mirror in the Belk’s dressing room, arms extended into the air in preparation for trying on a blouse. As the blouse enveloped my frame, so did a warmth I’ve never experienced before (even typing this now, I feel the witness of the Holy Spirit running throughout my body). From head to toe, I was wrapped and energized in the marvelous light and life of God’s Spirit within. I immediately retrieved my cell phone from my pant’s pocket and speed-dialed my husband.

“Honey, text message the cabinet and tell them we’ll come… no strings attached.”

He thanked me and immediately sent this message to the cabinet:

“We’ll go and we’ll go with God. No strings attached.”

We were later told that with the receiving of that text, the climate in the conference room immediately shifted and every one of our “attachments” were not only met, they were exceeded. Now here we are, almost eight weeks down the road, and I’m telling the story again. Not only for your sake, but mostly for mine. Why? Because I need to remember tonight; need to be reminded that for all the unknowns that currently torment me, there was a day in recent history when God firmly and beautifully gave me his “go” to be in this place.

I’d be lying if I told you I haven’t wondered a least a thousand times “why?” over the past eight weeks. It’s been a difficult “fit” with my heart. That being said, I’d also be lying if I tried to deny that dressing room moment. I can ask “why” all I want, but the truth is, I cannot deny the Spirit’s presence on April 14, 2010, in Belk’s. It’s almost as real to me this day as it was then, and friends…

Who of us doesn’t want some of that?

Remembrance is a good thing. It keeps us moving in a right and holy direction, even when we cannot see our next step. Remembering the presence and faithfulness of God in our past better enables us to move forward with our future. It’s one of the strongest tools we have in our spiritual arsenal to fight the enemy’s schemes for personal disaster. Tonight, I’m wielding that sword. Tonight, I’m writing my faith, out loud and on display for all the world to read. I don’t know if you needed it, but I certainly did, and I happen to believe that there might be a few of you who need to remember as well.

Remember God. Remember him well. Remember where you’ve come from, where you’ve been, and where you’re headed. Remember how he’s been there each and every time. He’s in it all—past, present, and future, and his faithfulness never ends.

Remember God and find your thanks, sing your praise, and tell of all his wonderful acts of kindness toward you. Your deliberate remembrance this day will be the spontaneous hallelujah of your tomorrow! As always…

Peace for the journey,

~elaine

PS: Thanks to Sandi Patty’s wonderful marketing crew, I have three copies of her newest book to give-away. The winners are… Cheryl B., Teresa, and Joan. Send me your snail-mail girls, and I’ll get your book to you this week! Enjoy.

a prayer for my Amelia…

August 13, 2010

***See update below…

Would you do me a favor? Would you pray for baby girl… my Amelia? Today was the first day of school for my two youngest at their new school. Jadon fared pretty well, but Amelia… well, not so well. She got sick at lunch, played by herself at recess, and didn’t go to the bathroom all day. She’s extremely fearful regarding the making of new friends and of “doing” her papers correctly. She was inconsolable the entire evening, pleading with me not to make her return to school tomorrow. In addition, she’s experiencing bouts of anxiety that somewhat resemble panic attacks.

This tears at my mother’s heart, and I’m completely exhausted with it all. I don’t know how to help her; in many ways, I relate to her pain and have had my own difficulty navigating these days of change. It’s my heart’s desire to live with a “thumb’s up” approach to daily living. Some days, however, it’s tough to keep upright. I’m praying my way through this; I’d appreciate yours as well.

In addition, I’m awaiting word of recent, personal medical tests… never an easy wait.

May God grant each one of us the daily grace we need to push past the confusion and rest peacefully in his good and tender care. Blessed weekend to you and yours. As always…

Peace for the journey,

~elaine

PS: To the relief and praise of her parents’ hearts, we were met with a smile this afternoon when picking up Miss Amelia. Thank you, friends, a thousand times over for blessing us with your prayers. It may seem insignificant to some, but to us it means everything. Blessed weekend to you all!

"a little bit of money…"

August 9, 2010

My daughter celebrated her 8th birthday this past week. At the top of her wish list?

A little bit of money (her words, not mine).

I read her list aloud to my precious group of “ancients” back in my former town (I had to return this week for a Dr.’s visit, scheduling it on a Tuesday to make sure I didn’t miss the weekly lunch gathering). When I finished reading her list, not only were there chuckles a plenty, but also there was money flying at me from every direction.

“Give this to Amelia… a little bit of money from me, one of the ancients.”

On and on it arrived into my lap, and in the end, Amelia had more than a little bit of money. She had forty-two dollars worth of money! Needless to say, her heart smiled big as she opened up her unexpected treasure. The moment reminded me, yet again, of an important truth regarding our God and his surprises.

He always surpasses our expectations. He can’t help himself. He’s God. Exceeding expectations is a quality built into his character.

We can’t always see it; further still, there are seasons when we refuse to believe it. I know. I’ve been there recently. My little bit of money has seemed paltry at times. Accordingly, I’ve kept my expectations pretty low. These are the steps I’ve lived. I’m not proud of them. I’m just keeping it real with you.

But so is God… keeping it real. And just this morning, he surprised me with a little bit of something…

Himself… right around 11:45 AM while sitting amongst the few saints gathered in corporate worship at Christ UMC.

I don’t know if it was the text that was being preached from John 4—the interchange between Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well. Or, perhaps the preacher—he has a way of making my heart skip a beat from time to time. Or, maybe the fact that my family was gathered all around me. Regardless of the externals, somewhere around 11:45 AM, my husband’s words admonished us to consider “true worship” and the “audience of One” who awaited our worship on Sunday mornings—the One who rends the heavens in order to get a closer look at the two or three gathered to entreat the Lover of their souls. As the words were falling from his lips, I felt the tremor of all creation radiating through my body. From head to toe, outward and in full measure, the Spirit of God resonated with his Spirit living in me, and I was surprised by the gift.

Not just a little bit of God. A whole big bunch of God. And for the first time since being in my new house of worship, I felt a pulse—the living, breathing pulse of heaven, convincing me that God is alive and active and on the move amongst our lampstand. I think others felt it as well, and I am glad for some corporate understanding at this level. I don’t think God’s pulse beats in isolation. There’s something about the gathering of two or three hearts in unified purpose that seems to manifest the presence of the Almighty—one of the primary reasons for our “doing church” as a family.

“I’m counting on the probability that when our Sunday gatherings commence, there will be at least two or three others who have gathered with a similar intention. I want my children [as well as myself] to be in the path of other believers, giving them the opportunity for the sacred intersection of their hearts with the heart of the living God, who knit them together in his likeness.” (pg. 135, “peace for the journey: in the pleasure of his company”).

God is not “dead” in this place. God’s pulse has never been absent from this new congregation. Rather, God’s just been waiting for his children to put his presence at the top of their wish list. To dare to ask for a little bit of himself in hopes and in expectation for eventual fulfillment. Today, I received an inclination of just what that might mean for all of us in the days to come—one sacred dollar at a time, collected and gathered over time, until our laps are overloaded with joy and merriment for the lavish outpouring from his heart into ours. He just can’t help himself. He’s God, and exceeding our expectations is built into his character.

Today, you and I stand on the threshold of a new week. Many are the plans we’ve made; many of them based on necessity, on survival, on making it through another 24/7. Some of us enter the week full of expectation; some with little more than limited hope to make it through. Some of us have God’s presence at the top of our wish list; some of us have asked for lesser things. Regardless of what we’ve asked for or how the level of our anticipation currently measures, God, too, stands at the threshold of our new week. He walks it with us; not apart from us, and if we could get an inclination of just how much he wants to bless us with the revelation of his presence, I’m certain that we’d ask for more. Not just a little bit of God, but rather a whole big bunch of him. That kind of asking is in keeping with our God and his “real.” That’s just how much he wants to be known by his children.

Oh for faith to ask him for more. For faith to trust him more. For faith to expect his more. For faith to unwrap his more. May God extend his heart of mercy into your faith this week and surprise you with a little bit of himself until his pulse multiplies and gathers to become the great expectation of your heart.

Let’s unwrap our awesome God together. I’d love to know how our Father reveals his presence to you this week. As always…

Peace for the journey,

~elaine

PS: The winners for Sandi Patty’s new book will be announced with my next post. There’s still time to enter. Just add a comment to that post, and you’re in! Shalom.