Friday, October 23, 2015

Ponder anew


Imagine, if you will, that you are in debt.

I suspect most of you reading are in debt, to one lender or another, or have been, so perhaps you can identify with this little allegory personally, at least to start.

Now let's imagine that this debt is to someone powerful.  Maybe the IRS.  Yes, since I'm a tax lady, let's go with the IRS (although in my experience they are much nicer to work with than the State of Colorado, but that's neither here nor there).

You owe the IRS a lot of money.  More money than you can pay.  It is your fault, for you, perhaps, misunderstood a tax law or misreported an item or perhaps did not plan for an upcoming tax bill.  Regardless, it is ultimately your responsibility, despite the additional charges brought on by penalties and interest.

Now the IRS can do several things to satisfy this debt and to punish you, the transgressor, for getting yourself into this mess in the first place.  They can garnish your wages.  They can put a lien on your home.  And ultimately, you can be put into prison.  Though not a function of the IRS, in some cultures, a debtor could even be put to death!

So imagine that the IRS has had it with you ~ had it with your failure to pay, had it with your excuses, had it with the time it has taken to pursue you to make things right ~ and they decide to take action against you, as is well within their rights according to the law.

And then, just before they come to seize you, someone steps in.  Someone, perhaps you don't even know, someone who steps in and steps up to pay your debt on your behalf so that you can be free.

Such is the heart of the gospel and a picture of it that likely you have heard before, right?  Although no analogy that compares God to man is ever perfect, it does help sometimes to see the transaction of propitiation that occurred when our debt to the Creator God was paid by Jesus Christ.

It is amazing in and of itself, but I want to take it a step farther, because yesterday in my quiet time God awed me with another aspect of the gospel.

Let's use the same example, only we'll call it a bank now, a very large and powerful bank.  You have been a long-time customer of this bank, though not a very good customer, as, like I mentioned before, you have accumulated great debt over poor decisions in your lifetime.  The time comes when the bank decides to reckon with you, to clear up all the overdrafts and bad debt that you have accumulated over the years of banking with them.  It's time to pay up.

Again, the bank has methods they can use within their rights to collect from you.  You are a desperate man, however, and you have no means to pay.  You have just lost your job as a bakery owner, perhaps, or whatever.  Your wife is ill and your children have needs that also are not being met.

Enter that someone who comes to rescue you. 

Only now you stop and ask yourself, "Where did this guy come from?" and "Why would he do this for me?"

And you come to find out, that although you've been a lousy customer of this bank for years, and although the bank has been good to you despite your lack of reciprocity, and even though there comes a time when accounts must be reconciled, this bank still wants to keep its relationship with you.

Mind-boggling in and of itself, isn't it?

And then you discover, that because the bank still wants you to have a relationship with them, the CEO of the bank himself gets involved in your case personally, and he decides that the way to rescue you and keep you part of the bank's family is by calling up his own son, his only son, to step and make way for this to happen.

And he does.  The son comes in, the son pays the price ~ steeper than we can imagine ~ and you are free of all your debt.  And you are still a customer of the bank ~ in fact, you could say, you've even been elevated to preferred customer status ~ actually no, he puts you on the board of directors ~ because the CEO of this bank sent his son to make things right with you.

Yeah, I know ~ those of you who read this blog likely know the gospel already.  But sometimes we get so familiar with things like the gospel that we become desensitized to it.  It should move us every time we consider it that the price Jesus paid for us was death!  And yet we read it, perhaps nod a quiet thanks in our hearts (on a spiritual day), and move on.  But yesterday, considering the gospel and thinking of this bank analogy, helped me to just be amazed that not only Jesus died for me, but that this was initiated by the Father.

In a culture of Go-Fund-Mes and other crowdfunding campaigns, even before such campaigns when fundraising was (and still is) common (although it's like an F-word to me, often, honestly), many of us understand that at times there is something out there that is too big for us to accomplish on our own.  Some are stubborn and dig our heels in, thinking in pride that they can accomplish it on their own.  In the case of salvation, they can't, and other than the realization that they can't accomplish it on their own, even the crowdfunders and fundraisers can't be saved without Jesus, for you can't crowdfund salvation.  It can't be bought.  The price is too high.

But it has already been taken care of.  You call the bank, perhaps, to try to make arrangements one last time.  Maybe you ask, in desperation, "Can you just consider forgiving this loan?"

And the CEO says, "Already done.  Someone already has settled your account.  You are free and we look forward to continuing our relationship with you in the future."

I feel like this is so ineloquently said.  You can't compare the Creator God with a bank CEO, really.  And of course the settling of account wasn't as simple as someone stepping in to make a financial transaction on my behalf.  But the point that I have been "pondering anew" as of late is that God initiated it.  That is amazing.  He initiated it, before I ever knew I needed it.  He initiated it, even though I have nothing really to offer Him.  He initiated it.

Ponder it anew.

In this is love, not that we have loved God,
but that He loved us and
sent His Son
to be the propitiation for our sins.

1 John 4:10 esv

Friday, October 16, 2015

True story, bro


Once upon a time, there was a little girl.  She may have believed that she was a princess, because she had wrapped her daddy's heart around her little finger and made him love her so much that he desired to give her everything her heart desired, and only princesses received treatment like that from their fathers, who are kings.  Sometimes, this granting of desires came much to the chagrin of the mother in the story, who believed that she was a queen (and rightfully so).   One time, for instance, the little princess-girl asked her king-daddy for a pet lizard, and the king-daddy said yes, without ever discussing it with the queen-mommy, who also enjoyed giving the princess-girl the desires of her heart, but would have found the idea of a pet lizard, if it had been discussed with her, bothersome, as the queen-mommy is greatly creeped out by the living creatures on which the royal pet would feed.

Yet, as we all know, the King trumps the Queen, and the royal pet household then consisted of a well-loved dog, a well-loved but also well-hated cat, an interestingly furred guinea pig, and a lizard.

The princess-girl named her lizard Ossey, and though it is spelled with two S's, it is pronounced like Ozzy and he/she/it was so-named because of its bright green hue which reminded the princess-girl of the land of Oz.  Ossey the pet lizard came to live with the royal family free of charge, if one doesn't count the cost of his aquarium/terrarium/tank/receptacle, the dirt and décor of such living quarters, the lamps and specialty bulbs (3?) that had to be purchased to keep him warm enough to survive, and the cost of food.  But the lizard itself was free

Oh, I mentioned food.  Let me tell you what the princess-girl's royal pet lizard prefers to eat:  Crickets.  Live crickets.

Now the one creepy crawly thing on the planet the queen-mommy has a problem with is crickets.  Not snakes.  Not spiders, unlike some people we know.  Not beetles or bees or flies or worms.  Crickets.  And now this royal family must regularly purchase a container of living crickets and transport them across town to keep the pet lizard alive, all the while fretting that the crickets will get out of the box in the car (quite possibly causing an accident), or even get out of the box in the castle, or whatever.  Even when they are in the box, or the aquarium/terrarium/tank/receptacle, the crickets can be heard, singing their little tunes that sound like little cricket fingernails on a cricket-sized blackboard.

Thus the royal family lived in this way for a number of months.  The queen-mommy learned to tolerate the creepy beasts, the princess-girl was quite happy (even though you really can't do anything with such a lizard but look at it and watch it shed its skin), and the king-daddy was happy that the princess-girl was happy.  The seasons began to change, and guests came and went as they visited over the holidays, and a new regular routine of life began with the new year.

One day, the king-daddy called the queen-mommy at work to tell her some horrible news.  The top of Ossey's  aquarium/terrarium/tank/receptacle had been pried open by some clawed animal, and Ossey was nowhere to be found!  Surely the culprit was the royal well-loved but also well-hated cat named Velcro, and surely the fate of Ossey the royal pet lizard was Velcro's intestines.

It was terrible, breaking the news to the princess-girl, who cried and mourned the loss of her beloved reptile.   The king-daddy removed Ossey's  aquarium/terrarium/tank/receptacle from its place of prominence in the living room, cleaned it out, and stored it in the basement, until at some point, a new owner could be found to purchase all of these supplies from us for their own "free" lizard.

And then life went on.

For three blessed weeks.

And then one morning, on a cold winter day, as the princess-girl was getting ready for school, she walked to the window to check the weather outside.  As she approached, she could see something on the cold window sill.  Something dark and gray.  Something lifeless and bloated.  She screamed, horrified.  It was Ossey. 

The princess-girl was so emotional she was unable to go to school.  That evening, the princess-girl led the royal family in a memorial service for the poor pet.  She gave a eulogy.  Her older brother performed an interpretive dance.  Her older sister played Taps.  The entire royal family, the queen-mommy and king-daddy included, joined together to sing Ossey's favorite song, Joy to the World.  Ossey lay in a make-shift Nike box coffin, and the pall-bearer king-daddy carried it to the frigid garage, because the ground outside was too frozen to bury him.  It was a somber evening, and all in the royal family went to bed with quiet hearts.

In the middle of the night, or the very early hours of the morning, before the sun was up and while she was in a deep, deep sleep, the queen-mommy was awakened by a loud whisper and a nudge.  "Queen-mommy!" king-daddy said as he shook her awake.  She looked at him, and truthfully, king-daddy looked crazy.  His hair was standing up and he had the look of a crazy man on his face.  "Queen-mommy!" he said, "Ossey is ALIVE!"  And with that the eyes of king-daddy grew big and full of wonder.  "What do I do?!" he said.

Apparently the king-daddy had had trouble sleeping, his thoughts going back to Ossey and the princess-girl all night long.  He pondered the fact that Ossey had not, in fact, been eaten by the falsely accused loved-but-hated cat.  He wondered where he had been for the past three weeks to suddenly show up in the royal window sill.  He considered if the lizard had died by the hand of the cat, as thought, or for lack of food or warmth.  For some reason, the king-daddy crawled out of bed and went downstairs and into the 10-degree garage.  For some reason, he found the box with Ossey in it and opened it, staring down at the lifeless reptile.  And for some reason, he thought, "I wonder what would happen if I splashed a little water on him?"

And so the king-daddy took the lifeless lizard into the kitchen, and indeed splashed a little water on him, and ~ oh my word ~ the lizard was alive.

The princess-girl rejoiced the next day when the king-daddy shared with her the news, following a Bible story lesson on Lazarus.  She smiled from ear to ear as she renamed him Ossey Lazarus, and she sang this little song:

It's a miracle kind of day
Pets come alive and say, "Hey!"

The king-daddy reestablished the aquarium/terrarium/tank/receptacle.  A new claw-proof top was purchased.  Fresh crickets were acquired.

And they all lived happily ever after.

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

I had me an epiphany...


These are a shadow of the things to come,
but the substance belongs to Christ.
Colossians 2:17 esv

Beginning the very afternoon that Christianne flew to Great Lakes, Robert and I made sure to have our phones constantly at our sides, always charged.  We had learned that we would never know when she might call, and even though we were told to not expect a call for several weeks, we still hoped for one every day. 

(Although we also hoped NOT to have one, as we were told that "no news is good news."  Such a strange dichotomy.)

And beginning just a few days later ~ although we knew better ~ we began to watch the mail for anything from our daughter.

It took about a week to receive our "kid in a box" and form letter detailing her address and all that good stuff.  From that point on, we became obsessive (okay, honestly, I will go ahead and throw him under the bus:  ROBERT became obsessive) about checking the mail, two / three / four times a day, always in hopes of receiving a letter from our Nina. 

Those letters were treasures!  Sometimes we would gather Grace and Josh together and read them aloud.  Sometimes it would just be Ro and I when they arrived and we'd huddle together on the couch to "spend time" with our girl.  She is such a great writer, and her voice came through the page and it felt like she was right beside us.  She would share her frustrations and challenges, her questions and concerns, and funny stories that made us laugh out loud.  A day that ended with a letter from Chris was a mighty fine day indeed.

Last Monday ~ what a blessing last Monday was to us, because, as you know, we got to go pick up our sweet girl from the airport and bring her home.  (It is bittersweet, for sure, because as much as we longed to have her home, we would have rather missed her as she finished her training in Great Lakes.  Knowing that she is planning to re-enlist, however, makes it okay.  For now, she is with us, and we are grateful.)

Last Monday we picked up our girl and hung out at the mall... Our girl needed some retail therapy as she was having withdrawals from not having worn makeup or jewelry for the past 35 days.  She shopped, she laughed, she shared, she smiled, and I couldn't take my eyes off her.  Was she different?  She seemed the same?  Taller?  Heavier?  Was that really my girl in those grown-up Navy sweatpants with the 50-pound backpack on her back?  She hadn't been in training for the past three weeks, so I didn't really expect her to be different, yet I just couldn't stop staring at her.  She's my girl.  She was home.

We enjoyed a fantastic dinner (did she eat that much before she left?) and headed home.  It was a good day, but a long one.  Everyone settled in ~ Grace getting ready for bed; Josh doing homework; Chris checking out her "compartment," newly dusted and vacuumed and with her "rack" already made, no doubt enjoying the fact that she was the only one in it.  Ro went down to check the mail, and we had letters.  Letters from Chris!

He told me about the letters and set them on the table.  We got busy with getting ready for bed and such, and eventually went to bed ourselves.  We were into the early afternoon of the next day before I realized we hadn't even opened the letters!

It struck me right then... the letters that we longed for, that we looked forward to over the past several weeks... the letters were just shadows of our girl... The letters were a wonderful way to stay connected to our daughter... but they weren't our daughter at all.  Once our daughter was home, the letters, although still enjoyed and treasured ~ the letters just didn't mean the same.  We didn't need the letters anymore.  We had Chris!

Are you familiar with what the Bible teaches about the shadows of things that merely point to Jesus?  The Feasts the Israelites observed were shadows (Colossians 2).  The Law was a shadow (Hebrews 10:1).  Jesus is the true and better Adam, the true and better Abraham, the true and better Moses, the true and better David, the true and better saving ark, the true and better sacrificial Lamb.  All of those things ~ and more ~ point to Jesus the way those letters pointed to Chris:  but the true and better Jesus is, well, truer and betterer!

We have Jesus. 

Just ponder that thought for a moment; let it sink in.  We have Jesus. 

We have Jesus.


Nod to Timothy Keller / Porterbrook re "true and better"

Monday, October 12, 2015

My girl is home


And it's been a pretty awesome week.

 
Doesn't she look amazing?

 
Yeah, I know.  Josh is weird.

 
Took the younger Wigglets out of school to meet our Future Sailor at the airport.  What was the first thing she wanted to do?  Go shopping for make-up.  We spent awhile at the mall, had a great dinner, and headed home. 
 
My heart is happy.
 
 
{I apologize for not being on this past week.  I don't want you to think I've flaked out again on blogging.  What I've realized over the past several months is how good blogging is for me, and I enjoy hearing back from you readers as well.  That said, my netbook at home doesn't like to blog much, so when it allows me to, I can't post pictures and it uses funky formatting.  SO... now you know.}

Saturday, October 03, 2015

45 more hours


I can't remember how old I was when I bought my first 33 1/3 rpm LP at Gemco, on Avenue K in Lancaster, but I remember the record section of that store (actually I have a lot of memories of that store), and I remember what it was:

Shaun Cassidy, Born Late.

The record came out in 77, but I'm sure I was older than 8 years old when I bought it, I believe, with my own money.  Like 12 or so.  And I remember listening to it after I had my own bedroom (which was formerly my mom's and dad's, until they build the room addition).

Isn't it weird how you can recall lyrics to songs you haven't heard in years and years and years?

I'm listening to it now, actually, thanks to modern technology and the wonders of the world wide web.

But there's one song from this album ("Carolina's Comin' Home) that has actually been in my head all week.  Change the name of the girl in the song to Christianne, and the chorus is just about perfect:

Christianne is comin' home, she wrote me a letter
Asked me if I loved her or did I forget her
Nearly broke my heart when I said good-bye and kissed her
Christianne is comin' home, I know that I missed her

We have heard more from her in the last two days than we have in the 32 since we've seen her.  What a gift.  Today we actually got a normal conversation, rather than a quick, informational brief.  This journey has been crazy.  I'm not sure where God will take us from here, but for now, I am sure glad that in about 45 more hours, I'll be able to wrap my arms around my baby girl and hold her tight.