Journals for Christa

Contrasts

noreply@blogger.com (the parishioner who doesn't do anything) — Sun, 12 Apr 2020 18:34:00 +0000

Contrasts

Sitting in a room together, yet alone.

Lost, grieving, waiting—

For what?

They didn’t know.

Words of comfort and hope forgotten.

Despair unimaginable.

Yet,

The greatest act since the Creation

Stood on the verge—

God stirs.

Love conquers death.

The Plan revealed.

He is risen.

Tell his disciples, He is not here

He is risen.

Deb Borkert 2020

Where Thoughts Can Go

noreply@blogger.com (the parishioner who doesn't do anything) — Sun, 29 Mar 2020 23:11:00 +0000

Sometimes I write down thoughts, and they don’t go anywhere. These are thoughts that eventually did.

July 9, 2019

Sometimes life doesn’t turn out the way you expect, or the way you hoped, or the way you wanted, or the way it seemed it should have been. And, when it doesn’t, there comes a time to let go.

October 16, 2019

But, perhaps, letting go and accepting isn’t that easy. Maybe it’s a series of steps, like grieving. Maybe it begins with frustration and irritation and moves to just plan hopelessness. Maybe the coming out is incremental, little by little. Maybe patience leads to joy after all. Maybe.

February 28, 2020

Maybe like Naomi, we can feel empty, wrung out, totally spent. As the snow swirls in a seemingly endless winter, the clouds that bear down in the heavens bear down on our souls. Cold, alone, empty.

Naomi felt empty; but we, as outsiders looking in, know she wasn’t, not really. She felt alone, but truly she wasn’t. As her hopelessness overwhelmed her, she pushed those who loved her away. She felt targeted by God. Yet, that was far from the case. Sometimes, it takes despair to get us where we need to be. Sometimes.

March 19, 2020

Sometimes despair is overwhelming. It causes us to lie awake at night. We turn all the options over in our heads. We say, yes, to this and moments later, no. David spoke of the unproductive watches of the night. Endless, foreboding, ever wakeful. Despair. It consumes us. And, then comes morning.

March 29, 2020

Morning eventually comes. After a sleepless night, we stumble to something or Someone to carry us through the day. Things usually look differently in the morning. Even though exhausted, we put one foot in front of the other and carry on. Stumble forward...into Jesus.

One day we wake up and find it’s morning.

I'm Okay

noreply@blogger.com (the parishioner who doesn't do anything) — Thu, 19 Mar 2020 02:59:00 +0000

Charlie is a risk taker, and no matter what kind of scrape he finds himself in, he always responds, “I’m okay.” I think he’s been saying, “I’m okay” for as long as he could talk. Charlie is five.

Weekend before last, we’d met Charlie and his family at a ski resort in New Mexico. We had a wonderful time—literally the last days we could wake up feeling that the day was predictable.

I’ve read a lot about brain function, and one author says that “our brains love surprises.” Surprises might perk up an old brain to function better, but “love” isn’t the term I’d choose.

In the last week, my husband and I have often remarked, “We picked the very worst year to retire.” As teachers we did not sign contracts for next year, and when the last paper is graded, we will be retired. But, we’re okay.

For years I’ve taught a class called Life Calling. One thing I tell my students is that I’ve noticed that as people age, they seem less willing to take risk. We moved to Colorado Springs 32 years ago with four small children and no jobs. We just knew it was the right thing to do. I won’t say those first years here were easy. They weren’t. They were years fraught with worry and stress. Yet, we were okay. Looking back, I’ve often wished I hadn’t spent so much energy frantic about money. I’ve also hoped that if I ever found myself in that situation again, I’d weather it knowing we were okay.

We aren’t okay just because we say it. We’re okay because there is a God in whose hands we rest. Life does not always turn out the way we expect. It does not always turn out the way we want. It does always turn out the way it should.

At Angel Fire, New Mexico, Charlie had two days of ski lessons. On the third day, our son-in-law (Charlie’s dad) took him to the top of a mountain. We laughed as we watched video of Charlie skiing down the mountain, arms straight out. And, when he fell, you could clearly hear him say, “I’m okay.”

—the parishioner who doesn’t do anything

Jesus--Very God

noreply@blogger.com (the parishioner who doesn't do anything) — Tue, 25 Feb 2020 12:00:00 +0000

Thoughts on Hebrews

Hebrews 1:8 and following distinguish Jesus from the angels, but it does so much more. It shows us who Jesus truly is. He is God.

God the Father says of Jesus: “Your throne, O God, will last for ever and ever…(vs. 8).

Verse 10 the Father declares Jesus the Creator who “laid the foundations of the earth.” And even though the world will change, Jesus will “remain the same” (vs. 12).

Then chapter 1 closes with another distinction between angels and Jesus. Whereas the angels are ministering spirits, Jesus sits at the Father’s right hand.

I
n some mystery the united Godhead seems to have split in some inexplicable way at the incarnation. Verse 5 expresses that the Father and Son are separate, yet they also remain the same. Jesus, “the exact representation of [God’s] being. The rest of chapter one focuses on Jesus and who He is—nothing like an angel, but the very Son of God—the Creator at the beginning of time. Who but God could it be attributed that he “laid the foundations of the earth” and created the heavens and all that is in them. At some point, all creation will change, but Jesus will never change. He cannot—for He is God and sits at the right hand of the Father.

Separate yet one. It is certainly a mystery.

The God of Winter

noreply@blogger.com (the parishioner who doesn't do anything) — Sat, 22 Feb 2020 15:33:00 +0000

Now, anyone who knows me can affirm that I’m a summer girl. I relish the days of cool morning walks and warm afternoons. I love sliding into the day without essays and lesson plans, clutter and (sometimes) sassiness. I love planning trips, growing flowers, chatting with my children and grandkids, and hanging out with Jay. Summer is everything nice.

But, then there’s winter. I grew up in the northern Midwest, but somehow, I never acquired an appreciation for cold and snow—the drab and windswept days of winter. I thought myself clever when I’d stuff a pair of mittens and a hat in the top of my marching band Shako to pull out once in the stands to keep myself somewhat warm as we watched our high school football games.

I prefer winter to extend just through Christmas and then I’d be fine with warm sunny skies and tulips blooming in January. But, although I’ve traded the gray Midwestern skies for Colorado sunshine, winter tends to extend well into what ought to be spring. (Case in point, we had a snow day last year during May finals.)

I must, though, admit that winter gets a bad rap. Literature tends to equate winter with harshness, despair, and death. In the symbolism of the seasons, winter isn’t where most literary characters want to find themselves.

Yet, we do. At times in our life, we do find ourselves in winter regardless the temperature outside. Winter is where bad things happen. And, “there’s the rub” as Shakespeare would say. Who is this God of winter? Why can’t it be summer all the time? What happens when things go awry? Is anyone in control here? Is God sometimes sleeping as Thomas Hardy postulates in Tess of the d’Ubervilles?

The answer we, as Christians, know is no. But, just because there is purpose and design in suffering from small irritants to life-debilitating circumstances doesn’t make it easy to bear. It is true that I should look on the positive more often. It’s true that there is much to be grateful for. Yet, honestly, I don’t always live there. My first thoughts often are not thankfulness. Those are things I have to remind myself of. They do not come naturally for me. And, I’m guessing they don’t come naturally for most of us.

Perhaps that is the why? for winter—to realize that the God of winter is still God after all.

noreply@blogger.com (the parishioner who doesn't do anything) — Fri, 31 Jan 2020 14:47:00 +0000

Oh, how deep was my sin that split the Godhead in such a way. Oh, what wonder that Jesus could become a child—the Creator creates Himself human. And, this was ever meant to be.

The book of Hebrews declares it.

Jesus is first compared to angels. There is no comparison.

God brought Jesus, His Firstborn, into the world. The act of the incarnation was of the Father, and the angels were to worship Him, and they did from the very night of His birth.

Angels abiding in the field—keeping watch over their sheep—and a host appeared, singing “Hosanna in the highest—Behold! For unto you this day is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.

We’ve heard the old King James version in so many Christmas pageants that the words tumble from our memory effortlessly—and, I’m afraid, without much thought.

Some passages just read better in the old KJV and this is one.

Behold!

Stop.

Ponder.

Pay attention.

Rest in it.

Meditate on it.

Behold! Today a Savior is born. He is Christ the Lord.

God creates Himself as a baby. It is a mystery. We cannot figure it out. How can it be? But, God is God, and He can do anything. Just look around. Look at the world. Look at the baby before you.

Hebrews 1:6b says, “Let all the angels worship Him.”

And, if the angels worship, shouldn't I? Everyday?

The Mystery of Jesus

noreply@blogger.com (the parishioner who doesn't do anything) — Thu, 02 Jan 2020 14:47:00 +0000

Just as the concept of God’s sovereignty and man’s choice is a paradox, so the idea of Jesus being God as one with the Father is a mystery—so incomprehensible that we must take the biblical account at face value and accept what seems the impossible to our limited understanding. God became a man.

After finishing a year reading the Bible chronologically for my Bible reading, I now need to get back into the structure of book studies. I have chosen first the book of Hebrews—as the incarnate Christ to me is mind-boggling to put it mildly.

I find a paradox is easy to accept. We see them in literature all the time. But, this mystery—the idea of God becoming human when part of Him—the Father—does not, now, that is difficult to wrap one’s mind around. Hence, Hebrews.

In Hebrews 1:1-3 we see the split view of the Godhead: the Father, who spoke through the prophets in the Old Testament and the Son (Jesus), who these days God speaks through.

Then Jesus, the Son of God is described:

· Heir of all things

· Made the universe

· Radiance of God’s glory

· Exact representation of God

· Sustains all things by His power

· Provided purification for sins

· Sat at the right hand of Majesty (the Father) in heaven

Jesus described as only God could be: eternal, all powerful, Creator, Sustainer—and Savior.

Winter of the Heart

noreply@blogger.com (the parishioner who doesn't do anything) — Tue, 19 Sep 2017 10:59:00 +0000

Dear Christa—

I sit here on this first really cool autumn day, recovering from the first and, I hope, last head cold of the school year. The coolness reminds me—with the turning of leaves, the ripening of grapes and tomatoes, the jars of produce lined neatly in rows on basement shelves—that winter is not far behind.

Winter. Winter can seep into the heart.

I am no fan of winter. I dread the darkness of morning. I wince at the cold.

I am such a summer girl.

So, what is one to do when cold fingers reach for the heart?

One thing that seems to go hand-in-hand with canning season is that there is not time for canning and cleaning too. Boxes of mason jars line the dining room floor. Evidence of finished and unfinished canning is everywhere.

The carpets need vacuumed. The bathrooms just got a bare “once over.” Only the laundry is actually done. And, yet, something seems to take over me…the desire to neglect the immediate and prepare for winter. I find myself wondering what else can I put up.

Our daughter once said that we must prepare for our winters in the summer. I think she is right.

So, just as I set aside the immediate this autumn season of the year, I need to do the same in a spiritual sense. Is my relationship with God grounded enough to carry me through the winter of my heart? When the winter comes, the faith of another will be of little help. We must have the relationship ourselves. Although we live in community, we walk with God in a very single sense. If you haven’t realized that yet, the winters will prove it.

I love standing under the pergola when it smells all grapey. Yet, that smell also brings an urgency. They must be picked and processed. Soon these leaves will turn yellow and fall.

This cool autumn day is a reminder to me that ready or not, dreading or not—

Winter will come.

—the parishioner who doesn’t do anything

Endings and Beginnings

noreply@blogger.com (the parishioner who doesn't do anything) — Thu, 25 May 2017 01:45:00 +0000

Dear Christa—

The recognitions are all given. The halls are all empty. The trash cans are all full. And, as I glue the last broken binding on a literature book to store away, it strikes me: What will it be like when I’m gluing the very last binding for the very last time?

I think it will feel strange.

I often joke about retiring, but that’s a blank page that the sovereign God has not written anything on yet that I can see. But, there is something wonderful about ending a school year. Kids and staff are ready to close the book. The Colorado summer sun is warm…finally. There’s always that feeling that I ought to be doing some “school” work that takes about two weeks to shake. Yet, I love the tempo of the school year where there is always an ending that leads to a beginning with new students, new clothes (in dress code, of course), and a new chance to do better than the year before.

But, there will come a year when instead of stuffing the closet in room 201 to the breaking point, I will close it mostly empty. Someday, I will close this book and open another. Is that not the way of life?

And endings and beginnings remind so.

Christa, you close a book with Hannah this week, and you will open another…more beautiful. All these books—I want to read them closely. I want to enjoy them fully. But, unlike this literature book I place on the shelf, our life books can never be reread no matter how desperately we wish we could. We close one. We open another.

When I do close my teaching book for the final time, I think I’ll look back on it tenderly. Such good friends to share life with. Such potential surging in young hearts and minds. But, no one should ever close the last page of a book without a new one to open. And, there are no new books yet for me.

Then one day—we don’t know when—all these endings and beginnings will lead to the grandest ending and beginning of all…when we close a temporal book for one eternal.

The pages of a good book should be splattered with tea stains and tear stains. Read each chapter closely. Embrace and squeeze out the closeness of the God who loves us—the God who has written a book with no broken bindings—a setting and plot we can’t possibly imagine.

—the parishioner who doesn’t do anything

Letters to the Churches: Ephesis

noreply@blogger.com (the parishioner who doesn't do anything) — Sun, 23 Apr 2017 16:15:00 +0000

Dear Christa—

I tend to neglect the book of Revelation. We tend to think of it as a book regarding the future, and, frankly, I seem to think I need something to help get me through the here and now when I read the words of God. So, after much time, I decided to open the neglected book, if for no other reason, it seemed like a good thing to do. And right there in the second chapter, Jesus speaks to the churches. These were real churches in the time the Apostle John penned his vision. Also, some think they could be interpreted to a declining universal Church through the ages. Regardless, it seems to me that we can approach the letters with the attitude, “If the shoe fits…”

The first church Jesus addresses is the congregation at Ephesus:

Jesus praises them for their hard work, perseverance, and for evaluating and recognizing false teachers, the Nicolaitans. The Nicolaitans were a sect of false teachers in the very early church. They were known compromising with the pagan culture, proclaiming that their spiritual liberty gave them leeway to practice idolatry and immorality” (NIV Study Bible notes).

Similar to today, we see people who want to claim the name of Christ, yet not live a life prescribed in Scripture. I think it probably came about logically, as such things often do. There was the accusation of legalism. There was the recognition of freedom in Christ. Yet, people have a difficult time maintaining balance, and the tension between living in the world and not being of it is ever present for all of us.

Freedom became license and license became rejection of some of the basic tenants of the worship of the one True God in the presence and practice of all types of idolatry from Genesis right down to the here and now.

The Nicolaitans did not spring from without; the false perspective was bred right in the Church—perhaps from the church in Jerusalem itself.

Right here in Revelation 1, Jesus states not that He hates the Nicolaitans, but their practices; and the church at Ephesus was commended for their recognition and stand against the false teaching. It’s always a danger to interpret Scripture through the lens of culture instead of interpreting culture through the lens of Scripture.

If we believe the Bible to be the very Words of God—and we do—we must maintain a practice of the later, regardless of the difficulty. And difficult it really is because we also must be sure that we are correctly interpreting the Words of Truth. We naturally tend to interpret Scripture through our lens instead of God’s. Oh, to approach Scripture with the attitude of “teach me your ways, oh Lord.”

Jesus simply ends by stating, “He who has an ear, let him hear what the Sprit (God) says to the churches” (Rev. 2:7).

Let us search the Bible to know God better and with the desire to follow Him, for He alone can redeem us. And, He alone can reveal the Words of Life.

—the parishioner who doesn’t do anything

Easter Thoughts

noreply@blogger.com (the parishioner who doesn't do anything) — Sun, 16 Apr 2017 10:36:00 +0000

Easter 2017

Dear Christa—

I don’t understand how God is three in one, but He is. And, I don’t understand how a part of God could die while the rest lived, but He did.

When Jesus died, the heavens grew dark; the earth trembled. The Temple veil ripped from top to bottom and the barrier between this world and the next seems to have given way as dead souls rose right out of their graves. It must have been a terrible sight to behold.

Nietzsche stated, “God is dead.”

He was wrong.

If God were dead, the stars would fall out of the sky; the earth would heave and the rocks would fall on us. For God alone knits the universes together. He is the Creator. He is the sustainer. He is God.

We can be sure that God is alive today as much as we anticipate the sun coming up.

What kind of God could die and rise up?

It is a power we cannot understand. It is the power of God.

Because God is alive, we can eat, breathe, and conduct our business.

We can love, pray, and know that He attends to the world and to us.

Jesus God is alive.

Therefore, we can be alive also.

—the parishioner who doesn’t do anything

Passion Week

noreply@blogger.com (the parishioner who doesn't do anything) — Sat, 08 Apr 2017 14:37:00 +0000

Dear Christa—

God is the beginning and the end. He created time with creation and will end time when He so determines. It’s hard to wrap our minds around a concept without time. We live in such a time structured world. There is birth, growth, maturity, old age, and death—and yet always birth follows. I recall the great comfort of Joel and Kim arriving with baby Helen and toddler Breck at the funeral of my dad. I think Christina’s coming with 3 year-old Caleb had the same affect for Jay’s mom at such a time.

There is something about babies that ministers hope.

Within the continuum of time, birth images eternity—not in a cyclical way that is often portrayed today—but in the assurance that a step from this world is an entrance to one without end, where God resides in a way different from how the time continuum perceives Him.

The Bible reveals God to us. Not only is He the Creator of all things, and the Savior of all time, the Apostle John introduces Jesus as “him who is, who was, and who is to come” in Revelation 1.

The progressive order is interesting. Jesus who is—who has always been—both in and out of the time continuum.

He “loves us and has freed us from our sins by his blood? Rev. 1:5

To him be glory and power for ever and ever.” Rev. 1:6

We often come to Him with many requests—and that’s not bad—but when do we come to simply worship?

He is God.

There is no other.

See Him today for who He is as we contemplate His work and exit from our time laden world this Passion Week.

—the parishioner who doesn’t do anything

Welcome, Spring!

noreply@blogger.com (the parishioner who doesn't do anything) — Sun, 26 Mar 2017 20:57:00 +0000

March 26, 2017

Dear Christa—

The rain has dissipated and I’ve cracked some windows to get some air exchange and outside humidity into this sick house. It seems we’ve had one cold after another since the New Year. But, this morning the birds are singing and the forsythia across the street is blooming in its bright yellow profusion. Spring is surely come, or at least on the way.

Some people think of new beginnings at the New Year, but for me it’s always spring that perks me up and helps me to anticipate the work of summer. Maybe it’s the literary symbolism of rebirth and new life, but it’s probably just the warmer weather and the anticipation of summer when I don’t work—at school that is.

Whatever it is, it’s an uplifting morning with freshness in the air and the songs of the little birds in the back yard, enjoying Jay’s feeders.

It’s a good day to look at the clouds breaking apart, revealing the Colorado blue sky behind them. It’s a good day to think about the future—spending time with our children and grandkids, wondering where we’ll go, pondering on our amazing world that God holds together and expecting He’ll work great things this year.

It’s a good morning to worship with our friends at church and hear Mark’s sermon—to see you in the worship team across the auditorium. And, hopefully, when I get home, Jay will feel better.

And—it looks like I better quit pondering the future and go get ready.

Happy Sunday! —this last one in March.

—the parishioner who doesn’t do anything

Spring Snow

noreply@blogger.com (the parishioner who doesn't do anything) — Fri, 24 Mar 2017 14:31:00 +0000

Dear Christa—

All of March has been hot, and just when I was thinking of putting away the quilts on the bed, Colorado winter circled back around just in time for spring break.

Life has a way of moving between warm and comfortable, and cold and nasty—or cold and scary. I love the warm—not hot, just warm. I love when life is going smoothly, but seriously—it’s the winter that presses us into God, for comfort, for direction, for perseverance. Trouble and fear have purpose, so they always swing back around, placing our focus squarely where it needs to be.

Snow is predicted all week long, but I know that Colorado spring snows are heavy with water—to quill summer fires and make my tulips grow. So, as my students head for the peaks, skiing and boarding, I plan to curl up with a book, practice French, and leave the quilts right where they are.

—the parishioner who doesn’t do anything

Sacrifice

noreply@blogger.com (the parishioner who doesn't do anything) — Tue, 10 Jan 2017 02:53:00 +0000

January 9, 2017

Dear Christa—

Over break we spent a few days in the Midwest visiting my mom and relatives. Small Midwestern towns tend to be sprinkled with old churches—churches whose cemeteries stretch out from the church yard like an extension of the building and its message within. Each entrance and exit is in the shadow of the eventual future of each individual.

Isaiah 53 is the great prophetic chapter of Jesus’ earthly life and end. It cannot be read without reflecting on the purpose of the incarnation—Jesus came to die as a propitiation for our sins. Now, there’s a word for us—one we don’t use much today.

God didn’t just come to be our friend. He didn’t come to reveal Himself as God. Though those things came to be, Jesus come to be a sacrifice—a sacrifice for all mankind—a propitiation for our sins.

The concept of sacrifice seems so archaic to us in the 21^stCentury. Ancient cultures practiced it in desire to appease—to propitiate—their gods. Israel, too, brought sacrifices to the temple. Even Joseph and Mary brought a small sacrifice to the temple after Jesus was born.

The great culmination of Jesus’ life was His sacrifice for us—for every sin from Adam right down to the very end of time. God Himself provided the lamb, and it was He.

Perhaps, that’s why peoples have long left the practice of sacrifice: It is no longer needed.

As Jesus proclaimed on the cross: “It is finished,” so every man, woman, and child can now approach God. From this moment, through death, to eternity in Heaven, nothing can separate us from God.

—the parishioner who doesn’t do anything

Jesus, after Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (the parishioner who doesn't do anything) — Mon, 26 Dec 2016 13:35:00 +0000

Dear Christa—

The angels and shepherds were gone. The magi had returned to their country in the east. The wild journey to Egypt was over, and Joseph and Mary settled back into the town they knew best, Nazareth.

Christmas was over.

Joseph worked and Mary raised children. Days became busy. Did it become easy to forget all the events that surrounded the first Christmas?

So, what do we do with God once Christmas is over?

Do we set Him on a shelf like any other gift? Do we pray to him morning, noon, and night with little more expectation than an old pagan idol made with human hands? What do we do with God after Christmas?

After last Christmas we purchased a cute ceramic nativity scene on clearance. The only problem with it is that baby Jesus tends to slide out of his manger. It seems like I’m always putting that one inch Jesus back in his manger bed. I’m afraid that’s where many desire to keep God—in a manger, a little baby.

But, God is not a baby in a manger. He’s the Creator and Savior of the whole universe. How do we plan to know God better this year? I would suggest one begin in Isaiah. Isaiah describes God a way that I think is so easy to forget. It’s good for us, for me, to move from the concept of a baby to the all-powerful Creator and Designer of each moment in the universe.

Then, maybe the real question isn’t what will we do with God after Christmas.

Maybe the real question is—

What will God do with me?

—the parishioner who doesn’t do anything

The Light of the World

noreply@blogger.com (the parishioner who doesn't do anything) — Tue, 20 Dec 2016 17:04:00 +0000

December 20, 2016

Dear Christa—

The Light of the World

I will make you a light for the Gentiles, that you may bring my salvation to the earth (Is. 49:6).

Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign: The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel (Is. 7:14).

All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: “The virgin will be with child and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel” which means “God with us” (Mt. 1:22).

Isaiah is a long book. It seems like I’ve been reading it a long time. Through the prophet, God spoke many encouraging and fearful remarks to the nation of Israel. For their disobedience, there would be captivity; and for God’s own glory, there would be freedom. Then, in among all these admonitions and blessings, God reveals Himself—powerful, omnipotent, Creator, Savior.

To know God is the reason we read the Bible. To see every created thing is a reminder of who God is. The wonder of a fight of birds, frost on the windowpane, shadows cast forth by naked winter trees—the image of God is in them all.

To know that He orchestrates every nation’s rise and fall, to realize that He brings forth His glory through those who know Him and those who don’t—that He loves so deeply that He would sacrifice Himself to bring redemption—

Even for us today, there are messages of hope, fulfilled through Jesus.

For many, Christmas can be a time of sadness. We all have regrets. We all have felt alone. We all have been in the dark.

Yet, Isaiah tells us about God—the God who was and is and always will be—the God who sent light to world, who sheds light in our hearts.

Let him who walks in the dark, who has no light, trust in the name of the LORD and rely on his God(Is. 49:10b).

Those who hope in me will not be disappointed (Is. 49:23c).

Happy Christmas, Christa!

—the parishioner who doesn’t do anything

Mary

noreply@blogger.com (the parishioner who doesn't do anything) — Mon, 12 Dec 2016 01:49:00 +0000

December 9, 2016

Dear Christa—

But Mary treasured up all these things

and pondered them in her heart. (Luke 2:19)

Maybe Mary had time to ponder—while nursing a baby, while grinding grain for their bread, while washing clothes.

In many ways technology has stolen the natural rhythm of life—the mundane tasks in which one would ponder.

We don’t do much pondering these days. —texting, rushing kids from one activity to the next, throwing meals on the table and clearing them off—

For many of us, the main thing we look deeply into is the “to do” list that sits ever present, nearly always at the touch of our fingertips. Really?

Sometimes, I wonder what is wrong with us? What is wrong with me?

And, all that lack of pondering can be an avenue to get all worked up. Are we as a people not angrier than we’ve ever been? I’m afraid 21^stCentury life has not made us a better people. For many it’s a life in which it’s easy to forget to live.

Perhaps, Luke 2:19 is for us.

Mary treasured the shepherds, the angels, Joseph, and this Child. The wonderful thing about pondering is that we don’t have to come to a conclusion. We don’t have to act on anything. We simply need to treasure—to be grateful.

What better time than now to ponder on this Child—Jesus.

Mary did not and could not know the future. I’m sure she wondered what would become of Him. What would become of them?

Christa, I hope you find time—make time—to breathe—to treasure the wonders of God’s work in you—to ponder the blessings of His hand.

God in the flesh—could that really be? I’m sure Mary had many questions, yet she gathered up these events of birth, angels, and shepherds; and she treasured them.

Should we not do the same?

—the parishioner who doesn’t do anything

God with Us

noreply@blogger.com (the parishioner who doesn't do anything) — Mon, 05 Dec 2016 00:52:00 +0000

Dear Christa,

The prophet Isaiah speaks the voice of God as he tells the emperor Cyrus: “I summon you by name and bestow on you a title of honor, though you do not acknowledge me. I am the LORD, and there is no other; apart from me there is no God (Is. 45:5b). I bring prosperity and create disaster; I the LORD do all these things (45:7b).

As with Cyrus so it was in the days of Caesar Augustus, certainly not a man who worshiped God. He made a decree that a census should be taken of the Roman Empire. What else would have forced Joseph and Mary to the small village of Bethlehem?

Perhaps it felt like a disaster to them; the timing surely seemed wrong. Yet, this decree that affected the whole empire moved Joseph and Mary to the very place of prophecy fulfillment. The child Jesus was to be born in Bethlehem.

Perhaps, as this year comes to a close, you have received honor, or perhaps your world is rocked by disaster.

Isaiah reminds us that God works in the lives of those who acknowledge Him and in those who don’t.

All the days before our time, right this moment, and in the epochs to follow, God is carving out His story, and the birth of Jesus is certainly one of the greatest moments in this narrative.

Remember it. Ponder it. Let it renew your soul.

And, they will call him Immanuel—which means, “God with us.” (Mt. 1:23)

Happy Christmas season, Christa. May your days be filled with awe—

—the parishioner who doesn’t do anything

What Kind of God--

noreply@blogger.com (the parishioner who doesn't do anything) — Tue, 29 Nov 2016 01:47:00 +0000

Dear Christa—

What kind of God creates a world with the design to sacrifice Himself to ransom His creation—who chose to create a race so bent on going its own way?

Even given a second chance to start over after the flood, little time passed before we turned away from Truth and the worship of the only Being worthy of worship. Then, when God chose Moses to lead a nation out of Egypt, their bent was to make idols of gold, to worship the creation of their own hands instead of the One who created their hands.

So easy it is to fall away. We shift like leaves blown in the wind, one direction and then the next.

Yet, “in the fullness of time,” God the Creator became the created. As moments turned to days—then years, Jesus remained the same until the day of the cross. And, angels and men beheld Him.

What kind of God becomes a man?

Most did not turn to the Truth—the truth that God alone is worthy of worship, that God alone could bring salvation, that God alone has power to create anew.

What kind of God creates a world with the design to sacrifice Himself?

A baby—in a manger—poor, weak, purposeful—

And the shepherds came to worship him.

—the parishioner who doesn’t do anything

Where are we looking?

noreply@blogger.com (the parishioner who doesn't do anything) — Thu, 10 Nov 2016 03:03:00 +0000

November 9, 2016

Donald Trump is no panacea. His platform may slow the tide of Christian persecution that crouches at the door, but it cannot stop it.

He has promised to make America great. Just what does it mean to be great? Is greatness measured in world dominance? Or, could it be measured in how we individually treat and respect our family and neighbors?

Can greatness be measured in wealth, gross national product, or does greatness reach out to one without and states, “I will help you”? Do we as Christians continue our upward mobility at the expense of relationships with those we proclaim we care for? Do we see a picture so big that we forget to look down at the uplifted eyes of the small ones in our own homes?

Do we cast our vision above this Book—the very Word of God, or do we gaze within the Bible’s pages for direction that will outlast any leader, nation, or movement? For it’s in those pages we find greatness—a Greatness that transcends a material world. When individuals seek to know the Creator of the universe and beyond, then in spite of what humanity considers great, we will lift hands to worship the God of Heaven and Earth and recognize that to be great is to set aside our selfish desires and reach out to the world next door and the world abroad and declare:

“God is good all the time;

He loves you;

He conquered death for you;

He sees you;

He controls ALL things, even when we don’t understand;

He will give you strength for your daily trials and the trials of your future.”

He, and He alone, is great.

Some need to acknowledgethat, and some need to rest in that.

Grass and Flowers

noreply@blogger.com (the parishioner who doesn't do anything) — Tue, 01 Nov 2016 01:10:00 +0000

Dear Christa--

Grass and Flowers: thoughts on Isaiah 40:6-8

“All men are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field.”

As winter approaches, the trees shed their leaves. The grass turns brown, and the flowers have spent their last blossoms. After a beautiful, lingering fall, winter in Colorado will come like summer. We’ll awake one morning and it will be here.

Saturday we raked leaves with the boys and let them (ages 3 and 5), jump in them before Jay sucked them up in the trash can. It is a sign that summer has ended. Winter comes. And, such is life, brief and fleeting as a leaf falling from a tree.

One man, one woman, live their days as prescribed by the Lord. Yet, as a blanket of soft winter snow, the grave eventually covers it all. It may seem futile, but it isn’t. It’s the comparison that is emphasized in these verses.

The brevity of each life, even in the culmination of all peoples, stands in stark contrast to the eternal Word of God. So, if the Word is enduring, should we not seek it out?

To know the Words of the Lord, the One who has always been and always will be—the One who has brought salvation to all peoples in all times—to hear His words should be a regular practice for us.

To hear His voice is to know Him better—to experience His love and compassion for us who are as weak and fleeting as grass and flowers. Let us give Him praise.

“But the grass withers and the flowers fall, but the Word of our God stands forever.”

—the parishioner who doesn’t do anything

Thoughts on Isaiah

noreply@blogger.com (the parishioner who doesn't do anything) — Tue, 25 Oct 2016 14:21:00 +0000

Dear Christa,

Thoughts on Isaiah

Thomas Paine, the Deist and great proponent of the Revolutionary War, used Hezekiah’s very words to rebuke and shame those who wanted to avoid war with England, the great world power of his day. He shames them for seeking only “peace and safety” in their day.

During Hezekiah’s reign, after envoys from Babylon sent flattering letters and gifts, Hezekiah shows them all of his treasures; he left nothing out.

When Isaiah the prophet tells him that all would be carried off to Babylon, including some of his own descendants, Hezekiah’s response was “There will be peace and security in my lifetime.”

How shortsighted and self-focused to only see our own fleeting life. We might expect more from a king, yet Jesus Himself is the only true righteous King. And that thought should make us realize that our concern for those we touch today—for those who will follow behind us tomorrow—is to leave a legacy of faithfulness, which they can follow and therein take hope regardless of their struggles.

Life brings individual pain to each of us. After Hezekiah’s recovery from grave illness, he states “Surely it was for my benefit that I suffered such anguish” (Is. 38:17). Perhaps, after such an ordeal, Hezekiah is too spent to seek the Lord to bring about change once again. Sometimes age brings weariness. Yet, we must pursue to the end. In the strength of God’s great mercy, we carry on.

In the overshadowing of our own Babylon, we must walk upright in prayer to the only King who controls all things from creation to Hezekiah’s life to now and the days to come.

—the parishioner who doesn’t do anything

When the Magic Blows Away

noreply@blogger.com (the parishioner who doesn't do anything) — Fri, 07 Oct 2016 14:01:00 +0000

October 7, 2016

Dear Christa—

As Joy and Shane sit in a Disney hotel room, I think the magic has blown away with the hurricane. Last night Shane waited hours in line to purchase 4 food boxes that contained 3 meals to sustain them through today. As Shane waited in line, Joy wasn’t sure how much food the boxes would contain. Thinking it might just be supper last night, they had decided they’d ration out the food for the boys and fast for a day. As Joy said, “There are plenty of people around the world who go more than a day without food.”

Her comment reminded me of something a parent who’d been to Haiti (where a hundred people died in this storm) said to Jay. She told him that while there on a missions trip this summer, a little girl said to her, “You mean you get to eat every day?” It’s been a question that’s kind of haunted me since he told me about it at the beginning of the school year.

I don’t know what today will hold for our family in Orlando. (I think it will be long.) I don’t know why such a special vacation has turned out this way. But, even in the midst of the storm, there is magic all around. It’s seen in the frost on the pumpkin and snow on Pikes Peak. The strength of an omnipotent God is revealed both literally and metaphorically as He rages up a mighty sea, and calms it down again.

There is shelter; there is food; and they are together. It might turn in to a magical day after all.

—the parishioner who doesn’t do anything

The Lesson of the Zucchini

noreply@blogger.com (the parishioner who doesn't do anything) — Sat, 24 Sep 2016 17:32:00 +0000

September 24, 2016

Dear Christa—

As I hung out sheets this cool, clear fall day, I couldn’t help noticing the zucchini that just a month ago was decimated in the short minutes of a hail storm.

This morning I could see the plants have filled out new leaves and 3 small zucchinis are getting larger by the day, just the way zucchini does.

All of nature is designed to come back.

“Seed time and harvest,” the world renews itself.

And so does mankind.

Research shows that people have a built in ability to recover—sometimes quicker than what we’d expect—from the most devastating disasters.

Life has a way of throwing us hard balls, quick and relentless. One day this week at lunch duty, I sat with a student who’d been rear-ended on his way to a golf tournament. The car is a mess, but the guy—not so much so. We chatted about how life can change in a moment.

We anticipate a day going the same as the day before and the day before that.

Then—

In an instant, all changes. Sometimes, everything in perspective, it can be relatively small— missing a tournament, losing a car.

Then there are times it changes all things, everything we ever planned. In one moment life will never be the same. Yet, we walk on—one day and one step at a time. We trust God even when we can’t comprehend Him.

And—

A day down the road, we realize we’ve turned a corner. We know we’ll walk on—differently, yes—but we walk on. We may walk in a new direction—often wiser and humbler than before—but we continue to grow. We push out new leaves. We bear new fruit.

It’s the lesson of the zucchini.

As I inspected the 3 little zucchinis at the base of new leaves, I said to myself:

Yep, there will be zucchini bread this winter after all.

—the parishioner who doesn’t do anything