Peace for the Journey | Elaine Olsen

the ugly, beautiful truth…

April 5, 2010

The next day, the one after Preparation Day, the chief priests and the Pharisees went to Pilate. “Sir,” they said, “we remember that while he was still alive that deceiver said, ‘After three days I will rise again.’ So give the order for the tomb to be made secure until the third day. Otherwise, his disciples may come and steal the body and tell the people that he has been raised from the dead. This last deception will be worse than the first.” (Matthew 27:62-64)

I gave my daughter a gift this Easter. While other kids were unwrapping chocolate bunnies and cramming marshmallow peeps into their mouths, my daughter was chewing on something different. Something that didn’t swallow as easily as chocolate or taste nearly as agreeable. This Easter I gave my daughter a taste of the “ugly, beautiful truth”—as the Pharisees and chief priests would describe it some 2000 years ago in Matthew’s gospel, the “last deception.”

Let me explain.

My laptop computer usually runs throughout the day and on display at the dining room table (alas, my kingdom for an office to call my own!). My blog’s “home page” sometimes serves as the screen saver, displaying the most recent post I’ve written. This past Friday was no exception. Curious child #4 (aka “Miss Amelia”) was interested in the previous writing “the exactly-why-we-need-Easter post”, especially the youtube video that includes scenes from The Passion of the Christ. You know where this is headed, don’t you?

Her curiosity led to a mouse click and then to her partial viewing of some of the graphic depiction of Christ’s crucifixion. Her sobbing and her “Make it stop!” was indication to me (currently in another location in the house) that something was terribly wrong. As I entered the dining room, I understood the reason behind that wrong—

the ugly, beautiful truth that was playing itself out on the fifteen-inch screen in front of her.

I stopped the video, cradled my daughter in my arms, and prayed for the right words to tell her. I suppose some parents would immediately try and soothe the ache by changing the subject, diverting attention elsewhere, or by shoving more promises of peeps and chocolate into the hands of their children so as to bring a measure of peace into the chaos. That’s not the way I roll, friends. Instead of trying to brush the truth under the rug, it’s always been my inclination to deal with the truth, however and whenever it comes. I’ve not always done it picture perfectly, but I’ve never found there to be much profit in pretending that truth doesn’t exist or that truth’s cause is better served by pushing it aside for another day.

Today is always a good day for truth whether it’s ugly or beautiful or a combination of both. Such was the case on this occasion. Thus, we spent some time together exploring my daughter’s questions, her tears, and her pain. Then we talked about Christ’s questions, his tears, and his pain. And when she asked me about the level of physical pain that Jesus felt and how she wished he didn’t have to “do it,” I told her the truth… the ugly, beautiful truth. Something along the lines of…

Yes, baby, they hurt Jesus badly. But more than the blood, more than the whips and the thorns or the crown that tore into his flesh, Jesus’ pain came from the fact that, in those moments, he was completely separated from his Father. And separation from the Father is far worse than any pain we will ever experience in our flesh. You see, Jesus had been with God since, well, forever. Never had they been apart. Even when Jesus came to us as a baby in Bethlehem, even then he had his Father’s eyes and attention. But on that day of the cross, Jesus was all alone, for in his flesh and on his body he carried the fullness of an entire world’s sin… past, present, and future. On that day, his Father looked away; Jesus knew it and that was far worse for him than the pain he was experiencing in his flesh. He did it for all of us, baby. For you and for me, for all of the sinners in this world. If he hadn’t, then we wouldn’t have a way to get home to God.

“I want to get home to God, mommy. I want everyone to get home to God.”

Then you, my daughter, must take your place in the story. Christ’s painful walk to the cross now belongs to you. You’ve been charged with the telling, even as I have been. You can no longer step away from the ugly, beautiful truth of the cross because truth has now been revealed to you, and you will spend the rest of your life working it out, asking some hard questions, and living the story that has now become a part of your reality, your history… past, present, and future.

“Yes, mommy, I think I understand.”

Yes, baby, I think that you do, and mommy will be praying for you as God begins to prepare your heart for the living out of his story.

***

The day after Jesus was crucified and subsequently laid in the tomb, fear was present amongst those who had the most to lose should Christ make good on his word and rise from the grave. While the disciples may have forgotten about Jesus’ promise of a third-day resurrection, the chief priests and the Pharisees had thought of little else since first hearing the proclamation. They were determined to make sure that nothing would further perpetuate the rumor—the lie—that Christ was, indeed, the promised Messiah. What they didn’t count on was the fact that the lie was, indeed, the truth. And truth, no matter how offensive it may seem at the time of its revealing, will not remain buried forever.

Truth tears off the grave clothes, shakes the foundation of the earth, and shatters the darkness with the marvelous light of God’s amazing grace and plan for his creation. Truth speaks louder than the silence that surrounds it, and truth cannot be contained within a tomb. Truth walks free from the tomb… back then, right now.

Perhaps the Pharisees were right when they said, “This last deception will be worse than the first.” Christ’s conquering of the grave has, indeed, escalated the exponential increase of the ugly, beautiful truth of God’s kingdom come. It swells and amplifies and enlarges with every passing encounter between his heart and ours. What began on Judean soil back “there and then” continues through to our “here and now.” To a little patch of eastern, North Carolina soil, where a little seven-year-old girl and an almost forty-four-year-old woman bow to receive some kingdom seed for a future harvest.

The ugly, beautiful truth of Easter.

The final, truth of the kingdom that is stronger now than it has ever been.

My ticket home; yours as well. Thus, I pray…

Reveal your truth, Father, to me, in me, and, subsequently, through me for the remaining days of my earthly pilgrimage. I don’t always understand you, Lord, but I know you and believe you, and therefore, harbor enough faith to carry me home to you. Take the seeds of this past week—the ugly, beautiful truth that has been revealed to me and to my precious daughter—and grow them into a kingdom harvest that exceeds our limited imagination. Strengthen our hearts for the “holding” and our lips for the “telling.” When we are tempted to trade in your truth for the lies of the enemy, secure our foundation with the fortification of the cross and the reality of your resurrection walk 2000 years ago. You’re still walking it, Lord. You walked it this passed week, straight into the dining room of my life, straight through to the heart of my daughter. Keep me faithful to the tending of the seeds that have been planted in all of my children; keep me mindful of what a privilege it is to water those seeds with the ugly, beautiful truth of your kingdom come. Amen.

peace for the journey,

PS: I’m likely to be MIA this week in blog land. Kids are on spring break; there’s a lot of fun to be had that I don’t want to miss. Love you all, and just in case I haven’t told you lately, thank you for spending some of your day with me. You are why I am here at my cyber address. Shalom.

the "exactly-why-we-need-Easter" post…

April 1, 2010

Would that I could escape the sin of this world.

I would, but I can’t. It surrounds me, invites me, terrorizes me, and reminds me of everything that is wrong about this world. Read about it in the headlines, see it on the television, hear it in the Wal-Mart, wherever we live and move and have our being, sin is the order of the day. A blatant and firm reminder of exactly why Jesus and his cross are needed, not just 2000 years ago, but today.

Today.

My heart is a tangled-up, jumbled-up mess this morning. I went to bed a mess; woke up a mess all because of a single headline that has, yet again, gripped my emotions with all the fury and fuss of hell’s intention. A seven-year-old girl has fallen prey to the sadistic schemes of the enemy, brought about through the hands of her step-sister and several young men intent on satisfying their sinful lusts via her innocence. I’ll spare you the details. They’re enough to turn your stomach, and if you’re stomach remains upright and unturned by them, then your heart has grown cold, calloused and unmoved by the sin-sick condition of this world.

This isn’t my happy Easter post; friends. Would that it could be. This is my exactly-why-we-need-Easter post. It would be nice if Easter dresses and egg hunts were the focal point of my heart this day, but they aren’t. Instead, I’m thinking about the unsanitized version of Easter—the one that’s ugly, repugnant to the senses, and that steps all over our need to keep Easter lovely and between the lines of our religious décor. As Christians, we are sometimes tempted to skip over the fuss and fury of Friday’s hell in order to arrive at Sunday’s conclusion.

I understand. I’m a Sunday-conclusion kind of gal. It’s how I like to live my faith, in victory and full of the conquering truth of the resurrection. But to arrive there without taking ample pause to reflect on what our Jesus went through in order to allow us sweet victory, is to keep sin’s ugliness separated from grace’s beauty. And that simply cannot be done. They come as a package deal, sin and grace, grace and sin. Without one, there is no need for the other. Life could simply live as it lives with no consequences, no rules, no guidelines except the one that says, “If it feels good, do it and let the chips fall where they may.” Apparently what felt good for at least seven men this past Sunday was a seven-year-old girl, and the chips? Well, they’ve fallen on tender soil—the broken soil of a young life—the consequences of which will be staggering in the end.

We don’t live in a world free from sin and the need for grace therein. As Christians, we sometimes forget our need for grace; the world has certainly forgotten its need for grace, but God has never been neglectful with his remembrance. He knows what we need, even as he knew it 2000 years ago, even as he planned for it pre-Eden on the front side of Genesis.

It’s hard for me to think about God and the “all-knowing” part of his nature—if he saw this past Sunday coming, even from the very beginning, then why did he allow it? Why make her pay for the sins of others? Why should she (the least of the least) harbor the fullness of carnality when she didn’t ask for it? Someone should have loved her better, watched over her better, made sure her “better” was of paramount importance. But “better” she didn’t receive, and now she is left to mourn what’s been lost.

I don’t have perfect answers for my questions, but I serve a perfect God, and by faith, I’m choosing to believe in those answers. I may not receive them on this side of eternity, but if I didn’t believe they’d one day be available to me, then I’d given up on faith a long time ago. Why? Because my almost forty-four years have afforded me plenty of occasions for questions and for the sacred mystery attached to their answers. There are simply some wrestlings of the heart that exceed my understanding at this point. Perhaps with spiritual maturity, I’ll grow in my understanding, but for now, all I can do is concede truth to Jesus and to look toward Sunday.

For Sunday is coming.

Soon.

Resurrection is upon us, closer now than it has ever been.

A Sunday conclusion that reads sinless, sanitized, saved by grace and grace alone.

Grace for all, even them—those seven, Lord—the exact reason why you could not skip over the hell of Friday to get to the hallelujah of Sunday. Oh the depths of where you’ve been for me, for them, for her, for the world. I cannot explain that kind of love and grace. I can only receive it, and in turn, Lord, out of that receiving… give it.

Even to them.

This is the conquering truth of Sunday’s conclusion.

Forgiveness.

Not as the world gives, Father, but as you give.

Even so, make my heart a conduit of yours.

So be it.

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Walking my Peace…

March 30, 2010

“As he approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it, and said, ‘If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace…’” (Luke 19:41-42).

I had a bad dream last night. Not surprising considering the events that preceded my final surrender to slumber. I’d already had my good dose of going-to-sleep, Bible reading and was happily drifting away when I heard the slamming of car doors on my front lawn. I awakened Billy and asked him, “Did you hear that?” As if.

He hadn’t. I ran to the dining room window to discover two trucks on our front lawn. Because of some recent car break-ins in our neck of the woods, I was certain that the bandits were making their rounds to my beat-up van, chock full of remnants from a day’s work in the attic that were soon to find a new home at the Salvation Army. My husband commented it would be a blessing if the robbers would cart the stuff off thus, saving him a trip. After pulling on his britches, he headed outdoors to take a look around. Alas, no bandits, only EMT workers responding to a neighbor’s call across the street.

Once I was back in bed, my adrenaline was still pumping and my mind began to entreat all the possible scenarios of what “might have been.” It took a long time for me to resettle my thoughts and move back to the calm I had previously known, but eventually I drifted off to sleep.

To a bad dream.

I won’t go into the particulars, but safe-to-say, it involved a couple of missing children… my children. Seems ridiculous even typing that now; dreams always have a way of living bigger when they’re “in the moment” and happening upon the stage of the subconscious. At the time, the feelings I felt were very real and enough to arouse me from my slumber. Once fully awake, I went upstairs to check on my children and returned to my thinking… about how the earlier wanderings of my mind might have contributed to a bad dream. About how God tells me to bring all thoughts captive to him and to allow him to reframe them in accordance with his truth.

And when I did, when I began to hash this dream out with God, I remembered my previous going-to-sleep, Bible reading from Luke—Jesus’ words that said,

‘If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace…’

And then I remembered what would bring me peace.

Jesus.

And then I was incredibly thankful for this one truth that I, in fact, do know and do hold as my abiding truth in all my times and situations, both day and night.

Jesus Christ and the promise of his peace.

Jesus no longer weeps over my ignorance as he did on that day when he stood on the threshold of a painful surrender. He doesn’t look down from heaven today and shed a tear regarding my willful neglect of his truth. I imagine he still cries for others who’ve yet to make that leap of faith-filled understanding, but as for me and my faith, I’m securely anchored to Jesus and to the pilgrimage of Easter that we walk together this week. His story is my own. His life and death and resurrection belong to me, even as it belonged to those who stood by to watch it in living color 2000 years ago. The words he echoed through his tears back then are the words he echoes still… words he’s entrusted to me and to you for the telling.

We are God’s peace-ambassadors, his kingdom peace-keepers, peace-makers, peace-tellers. We are the living color, flesh-and-blood carriers of our Savior’s truth, and should we choose to remain silent, the rocks will rise up to take our place. God is just that good. His truth is just that pure. His life is just that real. His love is just that much. So good and pure and real and much that even the stones of creation cannot contain their voices regarding his authenticity.

I want to be found as faithful. I want to herald the truth of Easter, and I want the anchor of God’s peace sustaining me on all occasions, whether the moon or the sun is governing the light. Today, I know what brings me peace because long ago I “recognized the time of God’s coming to me”, and I received his story as my own. I live it again this week as I walk to Calvary to remember, to reflect, and to renew my heart as an Easter child with an Easter inheritance to share.

A very good dream. A very certain reality.

God’s Peace. God’s Son. God’s Gift. God’s Grace.

The Truth behind Easter.

Remember Christ well this week; live Christ all the more. I’ll meet you at the empty tomb. As always…

peace for the journey,
~elaine

PS: The winner of the pay-it-forward giveaway is Leah @ The Point. Congrats, Leah. Please send me your snail mail via my e-mail, and as soon as the book arrives in the mail to me, I’ll send it your way along with a few extras. Enjoy.

paying it forward…

March 27, 2010

Not long ago, I won a pay-it-forward giveaway from my friend, http://thesecretlifeofanamericanwifeandmom.blogspot.com/ These are the goodies I received in the mail yesterday. I’ve never read Captivating but dearly love the work of John Eldredge, so I’m looking forward to diving into this “read” over spring break. In addition, I have a new travel mug for my morning brew and some Nips (another new for me) that, if I’m not careful, might cause me a trip to the dentist! Thank you, Christy, for your kindness. Your package arrived on a good day when I needed a friendly lift.

Now, as a winner of the giveaway, I’m to pick a few of my favorite things and pay-it-forward to one of you. Here is the book that will be included, Alicia Chole’s Anonymous: Jesus Hidden Years and Yours. You can read about it further by clicking here. Also, I will add in a few extras to sweeten the win.

If you’d like to participate in this contest, here are the pertinent details:

Leave a comment to this post, letting me know you’d like to be included in the contest (I have some readers who might want to comment but don’t want to be included, so please make sure you let me know).
If I draw out your name as the winner, be willing to write your own pay-it-forward post once receiving the package in the mail, posting a link back to peace for the journey.
Create your own pay-it-forward package to bless one of your readers and be willing to mail it in a timely manner.
Enjoy each page of Anonymous.

Make sense? I hope so. I’m not very good at this type of thing but feel so blessed to have won Christy’s giveaway. I’m all about paying-it-forward, friends, because the love of Christ compels me to do so.

Just this morning, I was reading in John 12:1-10 about Jesus’ anointing at Bethany. As a way of preparing my heart for this week-long pilgrimage to the cross, I’m re-reading The Final Week of Jesus by Max Lucado. It includes seven days worth of reading, all recaps of chapters from his book, And the Angels were Silent. Saturday’s readings focus on Simon the Leper’s dinner for Jesus, along with the lavish anointing of Jesus by Mary. Again, I am moved by Jesus’ response to the dinner guests who thought little of her extravagant worship…

“Leave her alone,” Jesus replied. “It was intended that she should save this perfume for the day of my burial. You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have me” (John 12:7-8).

Extravagant love loves abundantly. I can’t help but recall a piece of godly wisdom I received from my mother several years ago regarding the wealth and worthiness of our words and actions toward others. It went something like this…

Elaine, we all do a really good job of sending people flowers once their dead. We send them to the funeral home and litter the graveside with blooms of extravagant remembrance. But rare are the people, Elaine, who send people flowers while they are still living. Be one of those people, daughter, send flowers now while you still have the recipients with you.

Mary gave a rich bouquet to Jesus that day. It came in the form of a costly anointing. She gave Christ her lavish worship because she understood, better than most, that his death was imminent. She didn’t concede her grief to an “after the fact” moment. She gave it to him while he was yet living, and it has been remembered to us these last 2000 years. It’s a story that teaches us about giving God our best now while today is yet today–about loving others as we love Christ, for what we’ve done in his name for others, we’ve done as unto him.

This week, I was given a bouquet by my friend, Christy. I’d like to do the same for you. In turn, I imagine that there is someone in your path today who needs the witness and kindness of heaven given to him/her via your heart and hands. Would you be willing to pass on God’s love to one of his created? It doesn’t have to cost you a year’s worth of wages, but it should cost you something… your time, your prayers, your deliberate attention, and yes, perhaps your wallet. We have been richly blessed by God with great abundance, so let’s get to the “flower shop” and start putting together a bouquet that will let your neighbors know that they matter to you and, therefore, matter to the kingdom.

Pay-it-forward, friends, and see if God is not faithful to plant a beautiful garden on your behalf and for his renown! As always…

peace for the journey,

PS: In your comments, please make sure you indicate whether or not you want to be included in the giveaway, which indicates your willingness to pay-it-forward. Winner will be drawn with my next post. Blessed Sabbath rest to you and yours this weekend. Shalom.

Good Gravy and the Beth Moore Closet

March 24, 2010

“Oh good gravy!”

(My newest expression used in times of frustration. Please don’t tell me there’s something wrong with it; I could have said something else, have often said something else, but please don’t take my “good gravy” away from me. Thanks to Jet and Cord, cowboy brothers currently running “The Amazing Race” on CBS, I have a new expression for my moments of frustration. It’s nice watching two brothers being kind to one another on this show, considering that most of the other paired contestants are challenged when it comes to kindness and to finding alternate expressions for the four-letter expletives that flow like water from their mouths. Yes, I love me some clean-shaven, boot-wearin’, nice-talking, momma-lovin’ cowboys.)

Back to my “good gravy.” (Which, by the way, I couldn’t make any to save my life. I’m not a cook. On Monday I ventured into the kitchen to make spaghetti for my family and set the smoke alarms off… I’m not kidding. But I digress, again. I imagine it might happen to me a great deal over the next three months. My brain is being pulled in a thousand different directions. Bear with me, K?)

Anyway, yesterday I made the brave decision to venture into one of our closets in our spare bedroom. Not just any closet; the “Beth Moore” closet. Yes, I admit it… I have one. My husband added shelving to the closet several years ago as my Bible study resources began to multiply. Along the way, Beth’s made shelf-room for some of her other author friends. Over the past six years, I’ve accumulated curriculum kits that include:

Beth’s

Jesus the One and Only
John the Beloved
Believing God
Psalms of Ascent
Esther
Daniel
The Patriarchs
Living Beyond Yourself
A Woman’s Heart, God’s Dwelling Place

Nancy DeMoss’s Seeking Him
Priscilla Shirer’s One in a Million
Jennifer Rothschild’s Fingerprints of God & Me, Myself, and Lies
Alicia Chole’s Anonymous

I’m sure I’m leaving something out… help me Bible study gals! That’s a lot of meals out, friends, approximately $3000 worth of eating out or buying clothes or taking a nice vacation with my family, but I’m not bitter, I’m just sayin’, that’s all. And then there are the file boxes crammed with other teachings, ones I’ve developed and ones that I used prior to our moving here (a spiritual gifts study, advent study, Easter study, etc.). Oh, and the “props” attached to the studies (the golden scepter, the crown, the fountains, the candles, the dozen or so table cloths made to match the colors of the bookcovers, etc).

And lest I leave out the rest of the closet’s contents, how about the 100 or so CD’s that have done little more than collect dust over the past six years, and the craft supplies crammed in the upper corner, along with an endless supply of gift bags and wrapping ribbon, and the spiral notebooks crammed with study notes to which I will never again refer; not because they aren’t worthy, but because there is absolutely no organization to any of it.

And this is just one closet, friends (HELP ME, Cindy!). The more I dug, the more I found. Quickly I was surrounded in a sea of struggle, and with tears running down my face, I simply looked up to God and offered my “Good gravy!”

His response?

“Yes, Elaine, a lot of it.”

And as I looked around me, on the bed and stacked all over the floor, I saw the witness of a good investment, some “good gravy.” I could have invested my money elsewhere. Even more importantly, I could have invested my time in a thousand alternate directions, but as I began to sort and pitch—being careful to hold onto the good and eliminate the non-essentials—my heart was tendered by the reality of what God has done through me over the past six years, most days in spite of me.

Not only has he taught me a great deal about his Word via some awesome Bible study mentors, he’s allowed me the lavish fellowship of friends who have come alongside me to share in the teaching. My Tuesday night gals have made the investment worth it. Collectively, we carry the wealth of the kingdom within us, exponentially increasing its value everywhere we go. We may not be able to recall with specificity all the valuable insights we’ve received via the fourteen-plus studies we’ve done together, but we’ve certainly taken hold of the one thread that’s been woven throughout them all.

Jesus Christ and the life-altering truth of his Word.

That’s why most of the participants kept coming back to study on Tuesday nights. They understood it wasn’t about me, but about God. About learning more, seeking more, growing more, living more. About realizing that the “more” is best lived within the context of community, rather than in isolation. Could we have grown in our spiritual walkabouts with Jesus apart from one another? Certainly. God’s Word tells us that he has given us everything we need in the power and strength of the Holy Spirit to grow in our faith and understanding of his truth (see 1 John 2:24-27). But without one another, we would have grown differently, perhaps at a slower pace and without the benefit of sacred participation—of having our hearts intersect for a season so as to bring about a richer, fuller expression of faith.

My Tuesday gals have been my “charge and keep” for a long season, my very “good gravy” and then some. They will continue on without me, for they have seen the merit of what it all means. I’m not sure if I’ll be facilitating another study come fall in my new home, but one thing is for certain.

I’ll carry my closet with me as I go. And should my new home have ample room for a “Beth Moore” closet, I’ll tenderly unpack each study, give them a place of individual prominence, and be thankful for the “good gravy” that has already come to me because of their presence in my life.

Thank you, Beth, Priscilla, Jennifer, Nancy, and Alicia. Most importantly, thank you Tuesday night gals for making Bible study a priority and Jesus Christ, all the more. He is our anchor, our Teacher, and our very great Reward. Keep to him all the days of your lives and see if he is not faithful to fill your plate with enough “good gravy” to keep you well fed for the pilgrimage home. I love you more than words will allow. As always…

peace for the journey,

PS: For those of you interested in simplifying your life and especially your home, Cindy at “Letters from Midlife” has done umpteen posts along these lines. You can find them HERE. Thanks, Cindy. I imagine that I’ll be revisiting your thoughts/words often in the weeks to come.