Peace for the Journey | Elaine Olsen

the kindness of God

March 10, 2010

They kept asking, “What does he mean by ‘a little while’? We don’t understand what he is saying.” Jesus saw that they wanted to ask him about this, so he said to them, “Are you asking one another what I meant when I said ‘In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me’? I tell you the truth… ” (John 16:18-20)

I saw something this morning, something I’ve missed a hundred times before while reading this passage of Scripture. I didn’t mean to come across it; it simply came across me—my heart and my thinking, and I am deeply moved by what I discovered. This morning in my reading, I saw the kindness of God displayed in a way I’d not seen it before; not just once but twice.

First in his astute observation of the situation. Secondly, with his answer to the situation.

Let me explain. It would be so much easier for me to tell you this via a video, even as I told my Bible study group this evening, but alas, videos take a ton of time to upload, and I’m afraid my energy reserves are at an all-time low. Thus, this is my quick attempt at sharing some truth with you that personally means so very much to me this night. I believe that someone needs the witness of the Word, even as I have needed it.

Our Jesus is kind. He tends to our needs, our questions, and our pains as they come to him; sometimes even before they move from our lips to his ears in the form of a prayer. Did you catch that here? Did you read that even in the midst of the disciples’ tremendous grief and confusion regarding Christ’s soon and certain departure, Jesus interrupted their pain with his answer? He didn’t wait for them to get around to asking the question—about what he meant when he said “in a little while.” He saw, in advance, the troubled nature of their hearts and interjected his witness into the mix. This is a tender, first kindness from Jesus to the children he loved back then… the children he loves still.

The second kindness he offered them was one of words. Five seemingly insignificant words that, when spoken by the Creator, have the capacity to change the direction of all hearts in a single pause.

“I tell you the truth…”.

It really doesn’t much matter the answer that follows. Well, it does to a degree. Christ clearly interpreted the meaning behind his words for his followers that day. But the truth is, when Jesus says, “I tell you the truth…”, you and I can take whatever words that follow to the spiritual bank. His truth is the lavish gift of all heaven; it keeps us, moves us, emboldens us, and points us in the right and good direction. This is a loving, second kindness from Jesus to the children he loved back then… the children he loves still.

Oh would you, Father, tell us the truth? For we are a people surrounded by temporal lies that are eating us alive. Everywhere we turn, every road we travel, everything we see, is littered with a scheme from the enemy to keep us as we are—confused, tormented, consumed by tragedy, blanketed in pain. We are up to our necks with the world’s version of “truth,” and we are drowning in its deception.

Are there any greater two kindnesses we could receive from our God today?

One—his intervention of an answer to our questions even before they are asked, and…
Two—the witness of his truth?

I wish so very much that I could sit with you in contemplation of our Father’s kindness. Something tells me he would be well pleased with the conversation, for where two are three are gathered in his name, he promises to come alongside and interject his thoughts into the mix. When God is the topic of our many words, he bends low to listen; he moves in to make sure we get it right. Get him right.

God is right, and he is kind, and his love for us extends reason and limits. It extends all the way from a moment 2000 years ago to right now, this day, when the truth of his Word still stands as the truth for all seasons. How I love God for interrupting my day with the witness of his kindness! May his kindness reach you this day as well. As always…

peace for the journey,

post signature

Breakfast on the Beach with Jesus (part five): eating what we’re served

March 8, 2010

New day. New week. New beginning to an old life. Who amongst us couldn’t use some new right now?

Today, I offer you part five in my series “Breakfast on the Beach with Jesus.” For some of you, a series of this sort isn’t your cup of tea; I’ve sensed that, and I’m fine with your preference. I love writing with a “series” feel… it helps me better develop my thoughts on an entire section of scripture and, in this case, helps me prepare my heart for an upcoming speaking engagement. Thank you to those of you who are willing to walk alongside me in my ponderings. If you’ve missed the previous four parts of this series and wish to catch up, you can read them here. Shalom.

***
“Jesus said to them, ‘Come and have breakfast.’ None of the disciples dared ask him, ‘Who are you?’ They knew it was the Lord. Jesus came, took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish.” (John 21:12-13)

The closer we move to Christ’s fire on the beach, the deeper the exchange between our hearts and his. We can linger on the waters of certain truth, throw a few nets per his directives, and even recognize and acknowledge him from afar without ever really having to go deeper with Jesus. Offshore is sometimes the safest place for us if we fear the change that might come to us by eating what Christ is serving up for breakfast. Rather than drawing closer to the fire to receive from his hands, we choose the warmth of the fire’s perimeter.

Why? Why in the world might we distance ourselves from Jesus when it’s clearly obvious that the Lover of our souls lingers in anticipation for us on the beach? I think for a few reasons.

First, the deepest intimacy we will ever share with our Savior comes to us when our hands touch his. We cannot partake of his breakfast without receiving it from his hands, and we cannot receive from his hands without our hands touching his corresponding scars. For many of us, that is too real… too vulnerable… too much of an inward look at personal sin and shame. As Peter must have felt in those early morning hours after denying Christ three times, we also feel the weightiness of our guilt when our flesh reaches out for a plate from his hands. We cannot abide the look in his eyes, because in his reflection we fear seeing the unworthiness of our “all” staring back at us.

A second reason many Christians stand at a distance from Jesus’ invitation to breakfast is that they aren’t comfortable with the morning menu. Sometimes what Jesus is serving isn’t in keeping with good digestion. Certainly, all food from the Father’s plate is for our good gain, but with that goodness sometimes comes a heaping dose of holy confrontation—questions our Jesus isn’t afraid to ask us to chew upon and then to swallow and questions that are in keeping with his regime for our continuing good health. If we were being honest (and really what profit is there in pretending other than to side-track the issue and stunt our growth altogether), there are days when we’d rather go hungry than to have to digest a hard teaching from our Father. Our good enough becomes breakfast, lunch, and dinner fare rather than his plate of our moving onto perfection.

A third reason (and perhaps the poorest excuse of them all) for us not coming to shore per Jesus’ invitation is that breakfast with Jesus means giving our nets a rest… means taking a break from our daily demands and schedules and, instead, choosing to spend one of life’s most precious commodities—time—at the feet of the Father. We are a busy people crammed and overflowing with the tyranny of the urgent. Where one need ends, another stands in line to take its place. Rarely is there time in our days for a leisurely stroll on the beach with Jesus. We reason his understanding in the matter; we think he “gets it,” and because of his grace, will wait for us. We tell him “Soon, Lord, just a few more minutes” when in reality we’re simply saying “This is more important to me than You.”

Can you even imagine saying that to Jesus? That your “this” is more important than what Christ is serving for breakfast? Many of us wouldn’t dare say it, but friends, we live it every day. Every time when we choose…

busy over best.
schedules over the sacred.
distance over deeper.
chaos over Christ.

And with our “No, thanks…” and “Not now…” we grieve our Savior’s heart, for we forget that he has been up all night, stoking the fires of a good feeding, waiting in anticipation for our arrival come morning light. When we choose to stay off shore—whether because of our fear of intimacy, a breakfast menu not to our liking, or because of our busy schedules—we miss out on the most intimate fellowship we will ever experience with the Divine on this side of eternity. Instead of feasting on the fare of his hands, we waste it. We leave it, and before day’s end, it has grown cold, has lost its flavor, and has become the wasted remnants of a grace that was meant to be tasted and lived and enjoyed on the front end of a day.

Thankfully, our Savior waits for us… at least a while longer. Even when we forsake a morning rendezvous on the beach with Jesus, he consigns himself to another night’s watch on our behalves, another night’s fire, another night’s roasting of fish, until another night has passed, and morning light brings new anticipation to his heart for our acceptance of his invitation to “Come and have breakfast.” His patience is great and his love far reaching. He, greater than us, understands our need for intimate times around a fire and for nourishment from his hands. That is why he is faithful to a shore’s lingering.

Can you see him there, stoking the fire and casting a far glance in your direction? He lingers still. He lingers for you. Come and have breakfast with your Jesus today. There is no excuse you can offer that is worth missing out on the offer of his heart and hands. It may smell like fish, but it feeds like grace.

Even so, Lord, fill my plate and fill it up again. As always, friends…

peace for the journey,

~elaine

know that you know that you know…

March 3, 2010

“Be still and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.” (Psalm 46:10)

{photo compliments of Shirley}

I hadn’t planned on being here this week, but I couldn’t let today go by and not give witness and praise to the tenderness and care of Jesus who interrupted my pain last evening with the gift of his presence.

Last night, I gathered with my Bible study gals. Together, we’re working through Jennifer Rothschild’s “Me, Myself, and Lies.” Our weekly homework landed us in Psalm 46:10 for some pondering. We spent time discussing what it means to “be still” before the Lord and “know him.” I asked them when that happened for them—when are those times in their days when they know that they know that they know their God is present and reachable.

Some of them responded with…

when witnessing scenes of nature… rain, snow falling, beautiful sunrises, sunsets.
while working in the yard.
when the kids are sleeping.
when the house is quiet.
while driving alone.
with praise music.
while praying.

It was a lively discussion filled with the palpable hungering of hearts for more allowable moments of stillness before God. And when our discussion closed, I reminded them that they didn’t need to wait for the quietness of a house or the brilliance of a morning’s sunrise or even the serenade of voices to lead them to a place of stillness. I reminded them that God’s stillness is available to each one of us in the midst of swirling chaos—times and seasons in our lives when we can hold a full knowing of Jesus simply by pausing and turning inward to do what Brother Lawrence would spend his life doing—

practicing the presence of God.

And with that admonishment and with loud acclaim, I voiced these words to the thirty-some women sitting within earshot…

“Times, ladies, when we say with all the confidence of heaven, ‘I know that I know that I know that you are God, Father, and I am not.’”

And with those words and in that moment, I received the rich witness of the Holy Spirit’s agreement to my proclamation. Chills ran up and down my spine, the tears came, and my gals were spectators to the truth of God’s Word in living color.

Last night, I stilled my heart before God, spoke truth regarding his witness, and, once again, knew that I knew that I knew. And it was true and perfect and, for a few brief moments, enough to make all of heaven bend low to shout its witness regarding its King.

I pray for you a know that you know that you know kind of moment today. I prayed it for my girls last night. Oh that we would all take time to pause in our schedules to simply breathe our Jesus in and to acknowledge him for who he IS.

Be still and know your God. He longs to validate his witness in your inner being through the power and strength of his Holy Spirit. Take care to notice your King. He is great; he is good; he is here. As always…

peace for the journey,

Sunday morning…

February 28, 2010

The brilliancy of a Sunday morning’s sun.

It beamed through the slits in the mini-blinds reminding me of a new day’s embrace. I needed its witness this morning… needed to know I’ve been given another day to live it right, especially since yesterday seemed to live so completely wrong. From beginning to end, my Saturday was filled with confusion, chaos in my externals which contributed to an internal chaos that remained throughout the day. When I put my body to bed last night, I did so with a simple prayer in my heart:

Lord, visit me in my rest and sort this mess out. Make tomorrow my brand new beginning.

It’s a prayer we can pray in faith, because our Father makes it his business to sort out our messes and to bring new beginnings to his children. We can never out-do his willingness to make sense of our confusion or out-sin his grace therein. God makes himself available to our pleas for the “new” and will always be faithful to follow-through with a “new” that is tailor made to individual needs.

I don’t know what transpired in my night’s pause, but the brilliant arrival of sunshine seemed to punctuate the fact that my Father took my prayer to holy heart and granted me the grace of a new beginning this morning. I couldn’t help but notice him. Morning light has a way of announcing his presence—of saying “I’m here…” and “won’t you join me on the road today?”

Life lives new and fresh and better than yesterday when we join our Jesus on the journey of grace. Certainly, some days flesh themselves out as healthier than others. Some days we operate out of God’s fullness rather than personal depletion. Some days our wills line up with our Father’s and, no matter the schemes of the enemy aimed in our direction, we don’t take his bait; instead, we keep faithful to the truth and to the right and good witness of the Holy Spirit living within us. Some days we live life like God intends for us to live it. Some days we live like Easter people.

And some days we don’t live much at all. Some days we step over boundary lines that we were never meant to cross. Some days we say things, do things, pretend things that aren’t in keeping with kingdom living. Some days we live for self rather than for God. Some days we don’t live up to our potential because we’re too busy living beneath our level. Yesterday was a “don’t” day for me, but thankfully, today is walking better.

Today is living like Easter. Like resurrection. Like light. Like freedom, and I have the brilliancy of a Sunday morning’s sun—a Son—to thank for that.

A resurrected life with a resurrected Jesus… how I want to live each day. How thankful I am for a Father’s grace that covers me when I don’t live with resurrected truth and for his willingness to intervene in my night’s pause to re-work my chaos so that my morning shines new and fresh and with the promise of a better day ahead.

May each day of this new week we’ve been given live with the brilliancy of a Sunday morning’s Son as our witness. He intends for us to live in the truth of Easter and with the grace of the cross as our inheritance. Be kind to yourself when you don’t get it right, and be deliberate about asking for a new beginning accordingly. He loves you far more than you realize; you are his bride, and for better or worse, in sickness and in health, he’s keeping you forever. As always…

peace for the journey,

~elaine

PS: I don’t know how much I’ll be around this week. I have some pondering and praying to do apart from blogging, but I’ll be visiting you and loving you from my own little spot on the globe. If you have anything more specific you’d like me to pray about this week, please feel free to e-mail me. Shalom.

Breakfast on the Beach with Jesus (part four): bringing what we have

February 26, 2010

“When they landed, they saw a fire of burning coals there with fish on it, and some bread. Jesus said to them, ‘Bring some of the fish you have just caught.’” (John 21:9-10).

One of the greatest joys we will ever know as believers in Jesus Christ is the moment when his provision finds its way into our nets, and we are able to hold it as our own—to know that our obedience played a role in the “capture” of fish—the catching of men and women. As we are faithful to cast our nets in a right and good direction, God is faithful to work that obedience into his kingdom plan for abundance. Sometimes we’re eye witnesses to that abundance; sometimes we see through a glass dimly. But if we continue to yield our nets to the call of the Master, eventually we’ll understand the joy of what it means to be holy fishermen and fisherwomen for Jesus.

Scripture is clear that when the disciples made it to shore that morning, there was already a breakfast cooking to completion over the fire. But rather than Jesus offering the disciples his food in isolation, Jesus instructed his followers to bring a portion of their night’s catch and to add it to the flames. It’s an important mention, and one that I’m glad John included with the story as he was carried along by the Holy Spirit while writing it.

Jesus didn’t ask them for more fish because he necessarily needed more fish. Jesus asked them for more fish because in doing so, he was able to share in the joy of their prior obedience. It is the same with us. When we obey God and out of that obedience our nets begin to fill with abundance, we have the sacred responsibility and holy privilege of bringing that abundance to the heart of the Father so that he might receive the glory due him. Our catch doesn’t arrive at our initiative. It arrives at our Father’s, and when we forget to remember his hand in the matter—when we take the credit for the catch because, quite honestly, fishermen and women are all about bragging rights—we miss out on one of the sweetest aspects of divine fellowship with our God—

The beauty of sacred cooperation between his heart and ours. God invites us to come alongside him and to work with him to bring about a kingdom agenda that doesn’t have to include us, but because of his great love for us and grace over us, allows us a portion of deeded influence. He trusts us with the net; the best we can do is to trust him with the catch—to give back to him what belongs to him and to remember that we are as dust without him.

If I’ve said it before, I’ve said it at least 43 times (that’s one a year for those counting birthdays): If there’s anything good in me, it’s not because of me, it’s because of Jesus. I didn’t always think this; I used to think that I was pretty good all on my own. But then grace humbled me. I walked a prodigal road, and I thought some prodigal thoughts. I lived some prodigal sin, until my prodigal days caught up with me, and I realized my growing depravation and corresponding hunger. It was then that grace finally took hold of my heart, and I realized that I was not as good as I had previously thought. God was better, and if my life was ever going to amount for anything good, I would have to wear his grace openly and without reserve—owning my wretchedness while acknowledging his holiness.

Since that time, God has blessed me with abundance. My net has been full on more than one occasion; I wish that I could say I’m always faithful to quickly acknowledge his hand in the matter. Thankfully, with each obedience comes further understanding. I’m beginning to see the correlation between my submission to his directives and the bounty of my net. And when I do, when I realize that the provision I am holding really doesn’t belong in my hands but belongs in his, I’m quick to surrender it to the fire so that he might receive all the glory and share in the bounty of my night’s catch.

I don’t think many things please the heart of our Father more than when we “bring what we have” and place it before him for the partaking. His hunger for relationship exceeds ours, and when we offer him a “taste” from our nets, we open up our hearts for lavish, intimate fellowship with our God.

The beauty of sacred cooperation—of him bringing what he has and us bringing what we have to the table of grace with the purpose of growing the kingdom.

It’s a mystery, friends. I cannot get my mind around God’s allowing me any measure of influence regarding his agenda. He’s entrusted this mystery to each of us—to the holding of it and the dispensing of it therein. Some days we serve that purpose better than others. Some days we come close to understanding how it all works and other days all we can do is throw our hearts up in faith, surrendering the details and particulars to his perfect understanding.

I’ve stood in both places this week—understanding and faithful confusion. But as long as I’m standing with Jesus, it matters not the level of my perception. What matters is He who is with me in my deliberations over breakfast—him sharing his fish with me, me sharing mine with him.

Sacred cooperation. Mutual joy. Intimate relationship.

Where I want to be this day. I want the same for you. Enjoy your time on the beach with Jesus this weekend. I’ll see you on the other side of breakfast. As always…

peace for the journey,
post signature