Peace for the Journey | Elaine Olsen

a view from my window…

April 21, 2010

I’m sitting in a place this morning where I’ve sat many times before over the past six years. I’m perched at my dining room table, looking out at the highway that runs in front of our home. The azalea bushes across the street greet me with their rich dressing of whites and pinks and corals—colors that will quickly fade in coming days. The rain is falling as cars are carrying their occupants to the busyness of a new day… this day… April 21, 2010. None of us—those who are on the road and those at home—can accurately forecast how this day is going to live itself out on the pages of history, but all of us have some expectations along those lines.

Mine are wrapped around the “big event” of the day. It may not seem like “big” to other people, but to me, it’s about as large as I want to live today. Tonight, I’ll be showing off the parsonage to the new clergy couple who will take up occupancy within these four walls come June. There’s not much “showing off” to do. The house is old, the rooms are small. To those accustomed to high class, this house wouldn’t make the cut. Still and yet, it has a beauty all its own… not because of its outward attractiveness but rather because of its inward pulse.

You see, my family has crammed a lot of living into these four walls over the past six years. To date, our time here has been the longest tenure of our ministerial lives. All four of our children consider this “home” and rightly so. Many personal milestones have been achieved while living here, too many to chronicle in this moment, too many emotions for me to personally deal with and still be able to finish this post in tact. Safe to say, the best part of this house hasn’t been its amenities; the selling point of this house has been the history that’s been written by its occupants over the past seventy-two months.

Family is what gives a house its character… its worthiness and its value. Could this one use some cosmetic work on the exterior? You bet, but you’d have a hard time improving on its interior. And that’s what I will tell the new clergy family tonight when they come to imagine their lives living here within these four walls… not to major on the “externals” but to realize that for every way it might fall short in their expectations, God has expected bigger. That he can take the simplest of dwellings and make it into something extraordinary. That being a “home” has less to do with the four walls that encase it and more to do with the inward pulse that exists within it. That this place has been a good place to grow a family and to mark the passage of time with “stone upon stone” of God’s faithfulness.

Like the Israelites who were crossing the Jordan River in order to possess the promise of Canaan, we’ve collected and gathered a gracious plenty of stones from the riverbed along the way so that in days to come, when our children and our grandchildren ask us regarding the story behind those stones, we can sacredly and reverently say,

We have crossed the Jordan on dry ground. For the Lord our God did to the Jordan just what he had done to the Red Sea when he dried it up before us until we had crossed over. He did this so that all the peoples of the earth might know that the hand of the Lord is powerful and so that you might always fear the Lord your God (paraphrase of Joshua 4:21-24).

The memories we’ve made in this place will serve as our stones of remembrance for years to come. None of the six of us can accurately forecast the eventual depth and witness of those stones, but we can all be sure that they matter. That the collective life we’ve lived here beneath this roof has shaped us, strengthened us, matured us, and furthered us along in the pilgrimage of faith. What’s been lived here writes as history for tomorrow, and that fact alone, my friends, should make the living of our todays (wherever that might be for you) a worthy investment of our hearts.

Home truly is where the heart lives, and mine has lived here for six years. My family and I are better for having pitched our tent upon this soil and for allowing it to penetrate its worthiness into our history. It’s a good perspective to hold as I move throughout my day and begin the imaginations of my heart regarding my next home. I haven’t seen it yet, but I can feel its worthiness sight-unseen. Why? Because I’m bringing my home with me as I go. I’m bringing my family, and they are enough to warrant a substantial increase in property value wherever they reside.

Would you pray for me that I will be able to do this thing? To relinquish my hold on this temporary dwelling into the hands of another? I want to do it graciously, humbly, and considerately. God has been very good to me; I want to release that blessing and goodness to this new family with no strings attached. I want to leave a piece of my heart here so that in days to come, perhaps in a season when they’ve got a few questions regarding the worthiness of their ministry time here, the inward pulse of my family’s witness will reverberate within these walls reminding them of just how good a life can live upon this soil.

Thanks, friends, for taking this journey with me. For being willing to entreat these soul-stirrings of mine and for allowing me to flesh out my “faith” while still living with my “elaine.” All of “this” would be so much harder if I didn’t have you to come alongside me and lend me your strength for the road ahead. May the presence of our Father and the “endurance and encouragement of the Scriptures” (Romans 15:4) be the anchors that bring your heart hope this day. As always…

peace for the journey,

a view from the Jordan…

April 19, 2010

“… ‘When you see the ark of the covenant of the LORD your God, and the priests, who are Levites, carrying it, you are to move out from your positions and follow it. Then you will know which way to go, since you have never been this way before….’” (Joshua 3:3-4)

Never having “been this way before,” at least not exactly, it occurs to me this morning that I just might be standing in the middle of the Jordan River… awaiting the promise of Canaan, yet so completely overwhelmed and awestruck by the demonstration of God’s power in the moment that the view from the “middle” writes as promise just as much as the view from the other side does. The view from where I’m standing this morning feels right and good and in keeping with God’s plan for my life—our lives. You see, a walk to Canaan is never isolated from the presence of others. There will always be those who go ahead of us in order to point us in the right direction, those who look for our leading from behind, and those who take our hands mid-stream feeling every inch of understanding as we go and along the way.

Promise-land living is corporate living, where all pilgrims willingly take ownership of the responsibility of the priesthood—to carry the presence of the living Lord along for the journey and to interject his witness via the feet of faith. Faith feet aren’t afraid of getting wet and are strengthened in their resolve to stand firm so that others might walk through on dry ground. In many ways, those feet belong to me. In other ways, those feet belong to my husband. Together, we’ve made some deliberate choices in recent days to take those first steps of faith into the Jordan. But long before we ever imagined this “route” to Canaan, there were and still are a few people whose feet walked this route first. They have gone ahead of us and have been waiting for us to follow their lead and to join them on the march to Promise.

My dear blog readers, hear me and hear me well. As people of faith, each of us is currently standing in one of three places on the road to Promise:

Viewing Canaan from the opposite side of the Jordan;
Viewing Canaan while standing in the Jordan; or,
Viewing Canaan beneath our feet.

Not one of these vantage points holds precedence over the others. None. All are worthy points along the way in our faith journeys because all of them have Canaan within sight. Our walkabouts in faith are cyclical trails of trust. No one currently living in the flesh holds the treasure of his/her eternal Canaan in its fullness right now. That crossing over occurs when the last vestiges of the flesh surrender their pulse to the grave. Therefore, while moving toward God’s kingdom to come, there is room enough for us to move within-and-around this process of faith’s progression. In the past week, I’ve seen Canaan from all vantage points, and my faith isn’t “less” because of it. My faith is stronger because of it.

We are doing a great disservice to a great many Christians when we try to put parameters around what “Canaan” should look like for other believers. I’m a firm advocate of abundant living, but I can never live abundantly until I have first known poverty of soul. One of the greatest tragedies of a walkabout in faith is for complacency to root in our hearts while living in Canaan. God doesn’t intend for us to set up our tents on the banks of the Jordan as a permanent place of residency. Certainly, he intends for us to rest there, gain perspective there, but eventually, he’ll require us to move deeper into the heart of the Promised Land. And for that to happen, friends, we must be wiling to keep the tent pegs pliable regardless of how firmly they’ve become tethered to the soil beneath our feet.

I don’t know where you and your faith are standing this week; it’s likely that, before it comes to conclusion, you’ll experience Canaan from all vantage points. Regardless of where your feet are planted this morning, let me be a voice of encouragement to you that as long as Canaan is your goal, then your faith is well-placed and will keep you moving despite your willingness to stay where you are. God will tend to the issue of your faith’s progression; he won’t make you move, but he’ll be certain to allow you the opportunity to keep in step with his best plan for your life.

How I pray for God’s strength, wisdom, and endurance to be your portion and mine as we continue to live out the calling of the priesthood that he’s placed on each one of us! We are the living witnesses of faith whose names are being written into a history that will, one day, read like the stories of our spiritual ancestors from long ago. They didn’t know then what the fullness of their faith would mean to us now, but they lived it anyway. Not for us, but for the promise of the One who authored their lives.

Always for the promise of the One. He is why I’m here this morning, taking time out of a very busy day to remind you of your kingdom conferment and of the joy that comes to God’s children as we are faithful to keep our focus forward and our feet all the more.

Love you each one. Go in the strength you’ve been given, and until next time…

peace for the journey,

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a quick word from the mountains…

April 16, 2010

Hey blogging friends! Just a quick word for you this beautiful Friday afternoon.

Preacher Billy and I are currently en route to Mount Airy, North Carolina, to meet our dear friends, Bill and Beth. A blogging friendship that began over two years ago culminated into a meet and greet last November between Beth and me and our two Billy’s. Guess what, we’re doing it again and are thankful for the thread that binds our hearts as one—Jesus Christ. Even more so, we’re grateful that we happen to really like them and don’t get on each others’ nerves too badly!

God is good; his timing is perfect. He knew, long before we did, that we would need this weekend. To say that this has been an exceedingly difficult week for me and my man is to say too little (as evidenced in my last post). Thankfully, and only by God’s grace and mighty intervention on behalf of his children’s many prayers, we’re on the other side of our “difficult.” I imagine I’ll be sharing about all of this more fully in days to come, but for right now, I wanted to tell you, my faithful friends, how very much your prayers and support have meant to our family this week. You stormed the gates of heaven and stood in the gap for us, and God has moved.

Not in the way we expected. But, rather, in a way that he expected, anticipated, and planned for behind the scene that unraveled before us this week. It took many twists and turns to get us to the place that we’ve arrived at today, but faith has won out over fear, and come June, our family will take to the streets of Fayetteville, NC, to live out the calling of the New Testament Gospel. To break free from the “church” walls that will surround us to be the church that is within us and that compels us to sow kingdom seed.

And so, for those of you who might be visiting me today from Fayetteville, your new pastor and his wife are exceedingly grateful and overwhelmed with the privilege of being able to come to the fertile soil of God’s sacred ground in Fayetteville and to join hands with you and him to interject his light into that darkened place. You are not alone; you are not forgotten. We love you already, and we are praying for you this day.

You’ve brought a fresh wind of hope to our spirits, and we are rejoicing over a God who would so creatively craft this crazy, wild adventure we’re about to take together. Only he could think it up; only he can make it happen. Let’s lean into God’s strength and take hold of all of that for which he has taken hold of us. And just in case you don’t know what that “all” includes…

It includes everything. With God we get it all. How thankful I am to him for giving us you. Until we get there, and as always, my blogging friends…

peace for the journey,

a morning "word" from the shores of Galilee…

April 14, 2010

This morning my heart is heavy. I didn’t sleep much. Heaviness of heart seems to serve as fertile ground for sleeplessness. Such was the case for me last evening. Instead of awakening to the freshness of a new day, today I awoke to my tears and my husband’s arms around me assuring me of his love that will endure despite the chaos going on around us.

I also awoke to something else this morning.

The picture above. This morning’s sunrise over the Sea of Galilee. My friend, Stephanie, sent this picture via her phone to a few of us who have been praying for her during her missionary travels in Israel. Her words that accompanied this picture (as if any would be needed to add to its beauty)…

“I’m having fish for lunch today along the shores of Galilee after we take a boat ride there! I’ll be sure to get out of the boat when I see Jesus walking on the water! Tell Elaine this one’s for her! Shalom…Stephanie”

Shalom, indeed. A little piece of “peace” for the journey when peace is needed the most. And so, with Stephanie’s prompt ringing in my ears and the words of my “breakfast on the beach” series freshly racing through my mind, I once again turned to John 21 this morning and re-read the familiar story I’ve spent a great deal of time studying in recent days. This time, my focus fixed on verses 18 & 19:

“I tell you the truth, when you were younger you dressed yourself and went where you wanted; but when you are old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.” Jesus said this to indicate the kind of death by which Peter would glorify God. Then he said to him, “Follow me.” (John 21:18-19)

When was the last time you heard a similar “truth” from Jesus? When did he last remind you that on your odyssey of faith there will be times when you will be called upon to travel to places of his expectation rather than yours? When did you last feel the weightiness of your kingdom conferment as it pertains to your place of service? When did what “God wanted you to do” serve as the catalyst to your wrestling out a few things before him on the floor mat of heaven?

I imagine we all have a moment of vivid recall along these lines. We don’t travel very far with God before coming to a crossroads where the path of our choosing contradicts with the one he’s chosen instead. When we arrive there, we have a choice to make…

Follow him; follow not.

I’m there, friends. Today is my “follow him” moment. God has opened up the kingdom closet this morning and is asking me to dress myself with a plan that I wasn’t prepared to wear. He’s stripped me of my previous expectations and has presented me with his instead. To be honest with you, it’s not a comfortable fit for me… not yet. You see, I’m not a big fan of trying on a new set of clothes. I much prefer the ones that are currently hanging in my closet and lining my dresser drawers. At least with them, I know what to expect. With this new set, I’m not sure I like what I see. Rather than experiencing the warmth and familiarity of my “comfortable,” God is asking me to trade it all in for a new set of clothes that initially feels foreign and stiff.

My mind tells me that with time, the “new” will soon wear like the “old,” but my heart momentarily tells me something else… that I can’t do this. That this is too much. That this is going to be an uphill battle from the get go and that no matter which way I (or anyone else) tries to “spin” this, it’s still going to be a difficult fit for me. What I imagined and expected would be my next best steps are now being detoured along a path that had, previously, never been on my radar.

Still and yet, the path is clear, and like Peter, my heart is concerned, heavy-laden, and full of a few questions… not just for the clothes that I’m being asked to wear, but also for the clothes that my brother and sister are being given to wear as well.

“Lord, what about them?” Are you asking them for a similar obedience? Why is it that their dressing doesn’t look like mine? Comparatively speaking, it doesn’t seem fair, Lord. Why am I being asked to navigate these strange waters when it seems they’ve been given smooth sailing? Why does “following after you” live differently for those of us who are called according to only one, high and holy purpose? Why does it seem that my expectations rarely measure out in accordance with yours? Am I not listening closely enough? Living faithfully enough? Praying fervently enough? I thought I knew how this was going to go, Lord; it’s apparent that I don’t… know as much as I thought that I did. Forgive me for asking, Father, but what about them?

And for all of the questions that I could ask of God this day, for all of the chaos that’s been interjected into my life in the past twenty-four hours, Christ’s response to me this morning is the same as the one he gave to Peter on the shores of Galilee nearly 2000 years ago:

“What is that to you, Elaine? You must follow me.”

Follow me. Don’t concern yourself with your brother’s portion. Concern yourself with me and all will “feel” right in due season. All is right in this season, but all will “feel” right very soon. The “new” will fit like the “old” and the path that wasn’t previously on your radar will write as perfect history—your history, Elaine. Our history—yours and mine. Follow hard after me, child, and see if I cannot be trusted with the outcome. I have called you. I am faithful. I will do it. Now, follow me.

Breakfast on the beach with Jesus, again. Thank you, Stephanie, for taking me there. Thank you, Jesus, for meeting me there. I hear the waters lapping against the shore; I smell the fire burning in the distance; I see Christ’s arms beckoning me forward to receive the food that he’s prepared for my consumption. It’s not been an easy swallow… this eating from the Lord’s fire this morning, but it’s been good for me and will be my strengthened understanding for the path that lies ahead. How grateful I am for a faith that sustains me through the night and that brings me into the glorious light of a new day! As always…

peace for the journey,

~elaine

letting go at "44"…

April 12, 2010

“And we also thank God continually because, when you received the word of God, which you heard from us, you accepted it not as the word of men, but as it actually is, the word of God, which is at work in you who believe.” (1 Thessalonians 2:13)

My boy turned twenty-one this past weekend. I turned forty-four. Together we celebrated our milestones at my parents’ house on Saturday. Mom made sure we each had our own cake (only a mother would do this), and dad made sure we had steak (only a dad would go to some out-of-the-way butcher and pay $85 for the filets we enjoyed).

The food was tasty, and the fellowship was rich. I come from good roots, friends, and I am mindful and grateful for the privilege of what it means to have grown up in a household that promotes generosity and faith, all in the same setting… not just on birthdays but, consistently, on every occasion over the past forty-four years. What a joy it is for me to be surrounded by those who know me the best and love me still—those who birthed me, those whom I’ve birthed, and those who’ve married into the crazy lot of us. It was a good memory and one that has me thinking, yet again, about the one, consistent theme that has followed me all the days of my life.

Letting go.

A hard portion of Christian obedience, yet perhaps, the greatest “tool” our Father uses to shape us more perfectly into his consecrated people. “Letting go” comes in all shapes and sizes. Letting go of…

Children.
Parents.
Friendships.
Careers.
Dreams.
Money.
Time.
Childhood.
Carefully planned agendas.
Distractions.
Addictions.
Selfishness.
Consistency.
Routine.
Ministries.
Concerns.
Expectations.
Regrets.
Anger.
Unforgiveness.
Life.
_______________.

Regardless of the object behind the fierce and determined “holdings” of our hearts, it’s only in the letting go of those objects that we begin to fully participate in the life of faith to which God has called each one of us. By nature, we clothe ourselves with the outward manifestations of an inward pulse. What beats on the interior, wears openly and outloud on our exteriors. And while not all outward attachments are inherently detrimental to our faith’s progression, a tight-fisted grip on them can be. When what we’re holding becomes more important to us than the One we’re holding, then a readjustment of perspective is often needed.

God is faithful to bring that readjustment; we, however, are not always faithful to submit our hearts for his evaluation. Rather than releasing our grip on worldly attachments, we cling tightly to them in hopes of managing and manipulating them for a season longer. Sometimes we are successful in doing so, but rarely does it last and most always is it to our disadvantage. When we refuse relinquishment of our “stuff” (whether people or things), our clutching often becomes the stumbling block that prevents us from moving forward with Jesus and his plan for our futures.

Paul understood this. His heart was primarily tethered to his calling in Jesus Christ, but secondarily to those who stood on the receiving end of God’s truth. The church at Thessalonica represented one such group. His time with them was brief, thus prompting his later concern regarding their “continuing in the faith” and not succumbing to the persecution and false teachings that were circulating in their midst. He felt, perhaps, that they could have benefited from further discipleship under his tutelage. I understand. How many times have I longed for further mentoring from a beloved teacher or have thought that, perhaps, those sitting under my mentoring might benefit from our spending more time together? It’s a valid concern, but even more valid and potent is the truth that came to the Thessalonians while in the presence of Paul.

That truth cannot be contained within dates on a calendar or parametered within the context of a mentoring relationship. God’s truth is timeless and is too big for confinement. Once it is released, it exponentially manifests its worth into the lives of all who come in contact with its witness. His truth is stronger than our concerns regarding its diminishment and tightly anchors itself within the soil of a receiving heart. Paul planted those seeds in Thessalonica; God was faithful to water and to grow them—a truth later verified by Timothy after his visit to the church there:

“But Timothy has just now come to us from you and has brought good news about your faith and love. He has told us that you always have pleasant memories of us and that you long to see us, just as we also long to see you. Therefore, brothers, in all our distress and persecution we were encouraged about you because of your faith. For now we really live, since you are standing firm in the Lord.” (1 Thessalonians 3:6-8).

Paul experienced “real living” because the faith of the Thessalonians was standing firm, was active and breathing and increasing daily despite his absence. Paul worried about his “letting go” on the front end of his ministry. The churches he had planted were his joy and crown, his children and his delight. It was hard to release them to “go it alone” without his watchful guidance and care, but hearing about their growing in the faith buoyed his flesh for the price that would be paid for their knowledge—his personal persecution. For Paul, it was a fair exchange—their faith for his flesh. It was a calling he willingly chose, lovingly fulfilled, and dutifully wrote about so that we could have a better picture of what it means to “let go and let God.”

I don’t know what you need to “let go” of in this season of living. I know that God is calling me to “let go” of a few things I’ve been clinging to—stuff that is keeping me too closely connected to this earth. I know that I cannot walk completely free from my worldly attachments. God has given me many of them for my benefit. But I can walk free from their hold on me, from their being too important to me. None of them (not one person or one thing) is more important to me than the hold that I currently have on the hem of Christ’s garment. When anything or anyone starts to pull me away from those threads, then I pray for a holy readjustment of my heart. Why?

Because those threads are the ones that will pull me home. I’d rather get there with “nothing” then to arrive there with everything only to be turned away from my kingdom inheritance because my earthly vision was short-sighted and temporarily focused. Yes, I turned forty-four this past weekend. My son is twenty-one, and my parents? Well, they are on the backside of the journey home. The passage of time is evident to all of us. We cannot stop the hands on the clock, and while I love every minute of my life with them here, I’m keenly aware that our “here” is just a foretaste of what awaits for us “there.” “There” is where I want my thoughts and heart to anchor because there is where I will spend forever.

Thus, a letting go. Indeed, a hard portion of the Christian obedience, but in the end, the very best obedience any one of us can yield to the process of our completed consecration. May we all take the time this week to examine the holding of our hands and hearts and then, further, to be willing to lay something/someone down in order to take hold of more of the truth that is ours in Jesus Christ.

Hold loosely the things of this earth, friends; hold tightly to things of heaven; stay focused until the end. And as you go and along the way, may Jesus Christ always and forever be your…

Peace for the journey,

PS: Leah @ the Point is hosting her pay-it-forward giveaway. Please take time to visit her and enter your name for an opportunity to win some fabulous prizes!