For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.
We all know this verse. It is perhaps one of the most commonly quoted scriptures--the trite verse that believers reach for in some debate or another. But how has the most well-known scripture become just empty words? How is it that we quote this verse and then pronounce judgment for our fellow man? Why do we find joy in beating "sinners" over the head with this verse and then turn our backs to them in hatred and disgust?
These are the burdens that have been weighing on my heart these past few days. And it all started in the wake of JoePa's death. Social media forums exploded with an international outpouring of grief, remembrance, respect and honor for a man who had become a legend and who had left behind a substantial legacy. But some who call themselves children of God, chose judgment. "Now he gets to meet his maker..." And with this, my heart cried out in sadness. What an awful god to serve...one who doles out punishment and retribution. One who makes sure that we get what's coming to us. And get it good. Why would anyone want to serve such a terrible god, knowing that we all sin? That we all fall short of the glory of God? Why would He be any more gentle or loving with you when it's your turn? Is not your sin just as great as any other?
And in the midst of my turmoil, my Father revealed to me John 3:16. But His emphasis was on the word world. "For God so loved the world..." The world. Meaning all of us. Everyone. Everything. All of His creation. Not just those who were perfect (because there would be no one to love). Not just those who would choose to love Him in return (because that's what we often do). Not just Christians. No, He loved the whole world!
And once I settled this in my heart, then He changed the emphasis a bit and said "For God so loved the world..." And this is Truth. The gospel, the good news, is just one big love story. In His unadulterated love for us, He sent His Son to die for us. To save us. And He said so Himself--it's just that people don't often quote John 3:17.
For God did not send the Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through Him.
Yes, it's true. God did not come to judge us. Just to love us and to save us. And that is the gospel. It's simple. It's real. And it's freedom. And He offers salvation to the world. Not just the elect. Not just the ones who strive really hard to get it right. But to everyone. His love, His grace, His mercy--they're available to everyone. In any situation. At any time. Always and forever. Some will choose to accept His love and live in absolute freedom. Others will choose to reject His love. But that doesn't mean His love for them has dried up, withered or grown cold. It just means that in His perfect love there is freedom to choose.
So yes, JoePa did get to meet his Maker. But wouldn't you know--that is the one person who loves him more than anyone else ever could. And I bet JoePa had a high old time there in his Daddy's loving embrace.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Snow Day
It finally happened. January became January. The unseasonable 60-degree days finally gave way to the blustery cold sub-freezing temperatures we're used to. And when we woke up yesterday morning, we were greeted by a beautiful white wonderland so still and peaceful. I love snowy lazy weekends where the roads are quiet and we trudge to Market in the stolen stillness of the City's usually chaotic center. Burke is not quite old enough to take interest in the snow, but I'm sure next year I'll have an enthusiastic little snow bunny--a sweaty, tussled boy's boy with frozen fingertips and ruddy cheeks. But, for now, here are some pictures of my sweet snow angel in yesterday's winter snowscape.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
To My Darling Burke: Seven Months
I have known you now for more than half of one year. You are now closer to one than zero. And I wonder where the time has gone. It seems like just yesterday that I held you in my arms for the first time, wondering what we should name you. And yet, it'll be just the blink of an eye and we'll be singing "Happy Birthday" to our favorite little man as he smashes his cake and digs in with gusto. But I won't get ahead of myself--at least not at the moment. So here we are just two weeks past 7 months and you are still the funniest, most full-of-life little boy I know.
You have started to say "Dada" and when you get started, you don't stop. You babble constantly...I wonder if we'll ever have quiet once you really start to talk! I love to hear you talk as you play contentedly with your toys or traverse every corner and inch of your crib. You might just be an acrobat when you grow up. Or the guy that can fit into tiny spaces. You'll definitely be loving and kind and compassionate. Want to know how I know? God told me. And, you love to snuggle and "hug" Mama & Daddy. You are a little lover, that's for sure!
You also started "giving kisses" this month. What that means for you is to approach all things with an open mouth and then slober all over the recipient. That includes our mouths and even the dog. We think it's kind of gross to let you open mouth kiss the dog, so we try to stop you when possible. But you love your doggie and he lets you do whatever you want to him.
You got a few more teeth this month as well. You're not getting a break on teeth--but you do look so cute and silly with all of those little white teeth scattered throughout your mouth! When you smile and your teeth show--ah! My heart melts. And you love to smile and laugh. At nothing, at something, at everything. You're pretty easy to please!
You're so close to crawling, you can all but taste it. We see the frustration in your face, but we delight in watching your wheels spin as you figure out how to make your body work for you. Discovering the world is so cool! I feel so lucky to get to watch you do it. You have also started to pull yourself up on things, so we must now keep an even closer eye on you, my dear. (You nearly toppled headfirst into our wooden floor when you pulled yourself up on the laundry basket).
Thank you for the joy that you bring into our lives! I thank God for you countless times every day. There is just no little boy as sweet and as cute as you, Burke.
Love,
Mama
You have started to say "Dada" and when you get started, you don't stop. You babble constantly...I wonder if we'll ever have quiet once you really start to talk! I love to hear you talk as you play contentedly with your toys or traverse every corner and inch of your crib. You might just be an acrobat when you grow up. Or the guy that can fit into tiny spaces. You'll definitely be loving and kind and compassionate. Want to know how I know? God told me. And, you love to snuggle and "hug" Mama & Daddy. You are a little lover, that's for sure!
You also started "giving kisses" this month. What that means for you is to approach all things with an open mouth and then slober all over the recipient. That includes our mouths and even the dog. We think it's kind of gross to let you open mouth kiss the dog, so we try to stop you when possible. But you love your doggie and he lets you do whatever you want to him.
You got a few more teeth this month as well. You're not getting a break on teeth--but you do look so cute and silly with all of those little white teeth scattered throughout your mouth! When you smile and your teeth show--ah! My heart melts. And you love to smile and laugh. At nothing, at something, at everything. You're pretty easy to please!
You're so close to crawling, you can all but taste it. We see the frustration in your face, but we delight in watching your wheels spin as you figure out how to make your body work for you. Discovering the world is so cool! I feel so lucky to get to watch you do it. You have also started to pull yourself up on things, so we must now keep an even closer eye on you, my dear. (You nearly toppled headfirst into our wooden floor when you pulled yourself up on the laundry basket).
Thank you for the joy that you bring into our lives! I thank God for you countless times every day. There is just no little boy as sweet and as cute as you, Burke.
Love,
Mama
Friday, January 6, 2012
Running, running, running
I don't make New Year's Resolutions. I don't hate them. They're just not my style. If I need to wait until the New Year to officially start something, then I probably should have already started it. And if I know there is an official start date and I'm particularly dreading the discipline that lies ahead, then I'm probably also self-destructing to the fullest possible extent until that deadline comes. You know how it goes. You say you're starting your diet on Monday and then proceed to shovel everything and anything, especially bad things, into your mouth until 11:59 Sunday night. The first day of the diet is no problem. Your body eats up all the french fries that are left in your system and the excitement of having a bikini bod keeps you from noticing the growing growl in your gut. Day 2 is okay, but by Day 3, the hunger is overwhelming. The miniscule portions of protein and tsunami-like intake of water just isn't cutting it anymore. Sure, you still have plenty of donuts stored in the recesses, but your brain doesn't remember. All it remembers is how delicious they tasted going down. So then you start to bargain with yourself and you know, deep in your heart, that it's over. Because once you start bargaining, it's over. You lost. And you didn't even diet enough to lose all of the pre-diet binge weight, so when you quit the blasted thing (you've found a better diet that you'll try next month), you're actually a few pounds heavier than you were before you even started. It's obviously a cruelly psychological and highly emotional nightmare for me and I fail. Every time. So, I've learned that I am better off setting my mind on a goal in the heat of the moment. I'm not sure whether I trick myself or my self tricks me in this clever game, but it really doesn't matter. I feel like I'm in charge of my decision to make a goal, I'm ready to start on it so I'm fired up and when I'm finally at the point where I want to see the goal completed, then I have no problem maintaining the discipline to follow through.
And that's precisely where I find myself right now. Ready to run again. (It just happens to be timed up with New Year's resolutions). I miss long runs on the trail in the crisp winter air. An hour or two of running, spending time with my Lord--mostly praising him but sometimes pleading that I'll make it back home. This reminds me of a time when someone asked me whether running was a spiritual exercise for me and I replied "If you count the times I plead with the Lord to get me back home when I've gone out too far, then yes...it's quite spiritual." So, I've decided to sign up to run the St. Luke's Half Marathon in late April.
The last time I ran 13.1 miles, I was wishing that I had only run 13.1 miles. It will have been 5 years to the date of the St. Luke's Half and it was the day that I ran my first (and only, so far) marathon. I remember coming up to Mile 11, which was the split-off for those running the half marathon. As I trotted past that mile marker, I wondered whether I had made a very grave mistake. So many times, I considered jumping the course--it would have been so easy to just cross the flat, pathetic little median strip separating me at Mile 12 from those at Mile 18. No one would notice. But even if no one noticed, I could never cheat. I could never live with myself. So, I trudged onward. Slowly. Painfully. But steadily. And the pride and joy that overcame me when I crossed that finish line after running 26.2 miles was so worth the pain of every step and the nightmarish recovery that I would know intimately for the next week. So what if I had to pick up my legs in order to roll over in bed. I ran a marathon!
And so, I am once again ready for the feeling of accomplishment. For the exhilaration of running. For the added benefit of being fit and able to eat whatever I want, whenever I want. And for the opportunity to enjoy the beauty of creation that Jesus made just for me!
And that's precisely where I find myself right now. Ready to run again. (It just happens to be timed up with New Year's resolutions). I miss long runs on the trail in the crisp winter air. An hour or two of running, spending time with my Lord--mostly praising him but sometimes pleading that I'll make it back home. This reminds me of a time when someone asked me whether running was a spiritual exercise for me and I replied "If you count the times I plead with the Lord to get me back home when I've gone out too far, then yes...it's quite spiritual." So, I've decided to sign up to run the St. Luke's Half Marathon in late April.
The last time I ran 13.1 miles, I was wishing that I had only run 13.1 miles. It will have been 5 years to the date of the St. Luke's Half and it was the day that I ran my first (and only, so far) marathon. I remember coming up to Mile 11, which was the split-off for those running the half marathon. As I trotted past that mile marker, I wondered whether I had made a very grave mistake. So many times, I considered jumping the course--it would have been so easy to just cross the flat, pathetic little median strip separating me at Mile 12 from those at Mile 18. No one would notice. But even if no one noticed, I could never cheat. I could never live with myself. So, I trudged onward. Slowly. Painfully. But steadily. And the pride and joy that overcame me when I crossed that finish line after running 26.2 miles was so worth the pain of every step and the nightmarish recovery that I would know intimately for the next week. So what if I had to pick up my legs in order to roll over in bed. I ran a marathon!
And so, I am once again ready for the feeling of accomplishment. For the exhilaration of running. For the added benefit of being fit and able to eat whatever I want, whenever I want. And for the opportunity to enjoy the beauty of creation that Jesus made just for me!
Friday, December 30, 2011
Burke's First Christmas
Not being old enough to understand the sleepless excitement revolving around Santa and Christmas morning, our sweet boy let us sleep until 7! That rest came in handy as the day wore on--such a wonderful, blessed (but exhausting) day we spent with both families. Amidst a flurry of attention and gifts, no naps and sore gums, Burke handled his first Christmas like a jolly little champ! Much more fun for us, I'm sure. But whether it was simple curiosity and the need for exploration of those brightly wrapped packages or an actual interest in unwrapping his gifts, Burke tore right into his little gifts and gave us much delight.
We expect next year to be even better!
We expect next year to be even better!
Friday, December 23, 2011
My Christmas Miracle
I remember last Christmas like it was just yesterday. Wasn't it just yesterday? My word! Where did this year go? Last Christmas, I was a happy pregnant lady and one of the very best presents last year was feeling my little darling move for the very first time!
With a blink of an eye, it was here. Sure, there were some painfully slow days and weeks in between--those days I thought this baby will stay inside of me forever! But all in all, it was like the blink of an eye. June 3, 2011--my Christmas in June. No one could prepare me for the insurmountable joy and love that I would both experience and give away that day...which is what Christmas is all about, isn't it?
And no one could prepare me for what must be called the miracle of parenthood. That each and every day for the rest of my life, I would wake up and experience Christmas morning all over again, each one better than the last. Each day, I would wake up and realize that somehow, I love my child even more today than I did yesterday. How is it possible? And I would go to bed each night--not mourning the close of Christmas Day--but joyfully pondering and anxiously anticipating the increased love and joy I would find in the morning when I awoke to the sound of nonsensical babble, raspberries, coos and giggles. And so, I find that I am most blessed, as Christmas for me is an every day occurrence in which I get to love deeper, laugh harder and give generously from all that I am and all that I have. This is my Christmas miracle.
I remember thinking I'm so lucky! because Christmas is my favorite holiday, my favorite time of year and I was going to get Christmas in June too! Usually, I mourn the close of Christmas Day, because the 12-month wait til next year just seems impossible...an unimaginable and needlessly suspenseful span of time. But, last year, I wound down from Christmas Day with joy as I looked forward to a new sort of Christmas Day just 6 months away...the day that I would get to meet my firstborn.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Blessed is she
"And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what had been spoken to her by the Lord." ~ Luke 1:45
A teenager, most likely. Barely out of her youth. But in those days, a woman ready to be a bride. Undefiled. Innocent. Hopeful for a wonderful life with her soon-to-be husband. Meet Mary, the mother of my Lord. Oh how her life must have changed in that instant when she was face to face with Gabriel. When, by all earthly standards, her perfect life was rendered apart. Shattered shards of reality. An unraveled spool. What was she thinking? Did she vomit? Cry? Faint?
And Mary said, "Behold, the bondslave of the Lord; may it be done to me according to your word."
Calm. Confidant. Faithfully trusting the word of God. Denying her natural perspectives and wholeheartedly embracing the supernatural. A picture of beauty and grace. A true woman. A model for all women. But of course, she was the mother of my Lord.
And Mary said: My soul exalts the Lord, and my spirit has rejoiced in God my savior. For He has had regard for the humble state of his bondslave; for behold, from this time on all generations will count me blessed. For the Mighty One has done great things for me; and holy is His name.
A prophetic voice. A worshipful heart. A heart that loved her son both as a mother and a daughter. I can't even imagine. For she was the blessed virgin, the mother of my Lord. And she was also a beloved daughter, a co-heir to the throne of God.
A teenager, most likely. Barely out of her youth. But in those days, a woman ready to be a bride. Undefiled. Innocent. Hopeful for a wonderful life with her soon-to-be husband. Meet Mary, the mother of my Lord. Oh how her life must have changed in that instant when she was face to face with Gabriel. When, by all earthly standards, her perfect life was rendered apart. Shattered shards of reality. An unraveled spool. What was she thinking? Did she vomit? Cry? Faint?
And Mary said, "Behold, the bondslave of the Lord; may it be done to me according to your word."
Calm. Confidant. Faithfully trusting the word of God. Denying her natural perspectives and wholeheartedly embracing the supernatural. A picture of beauty and grace. A true woman. A model for all women. But of course, she was the mother of my Lord.
And Mary said: My soul exalts the Lord, and my spirit has rejoiced in God my savior. For He has had regard for the humble state of his bondslave; for behold, from this time on all generations will count me blessed. For the Mighty One has done great things for me; and holy is His name.
A prophetic voice. A worshipful heart. A heart that loved her son both as a mother and a daughter. I can't even imagine. For she was the blessed virgin, the mother of my Lord. And she was also a beloved daughter, a co-heir to the throne of God.
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