Sticky Love

Mom, will you please come and help in my class?

And so I became the almost weekly quizzer of second grade math facts.  (I didn’t relish the idea but Leah and her brown eyes)

Each time I quiz them I make observations.  Can’t help it.  Don’t mean to do it, but already I can discern the alphas…the super smart but kinda awkward…the seriously nervous…the competitor who wants to peek onto my list and compare checkmarks…the fidgety…the messy desk, can’t-find-my-paper.

I kinda want to hug them all.

Sometimes, like today, I just go and eat lunch with Leah.  Most of the kids wave and say Hi Ms. Dorsey.  I sit down and funny enough — she barely talks to me! — but one or two others chat me up.

Freckles sprayed across his nose.  Raspy little boy voice.  One of my favorites.

Needy little heart.

Breaks mine a bit.

His living situation is less than optimal.  I listen to his basketball story and ask questions.  Try to convey my interest.  Would like him to know he matters.

For a moment I gaze across the sea of little people.  They each have a story.  Some of them are thriving and some are broken.

Already.

Half hour over.  Back to my vehicle with third-born leading the way.  I’m thinking about hurt children who grow into hurt adults.  And my heart hears this…

Close to the broken-hearted

I recognize Psalmist words.  The Lord is close to the broken-hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

The answer to the dilemma of life.  The only real hope for the hopeless.

Jesus.

The Message paraphrase puts it this way:

If your heart is broken, you’ll find God right there; if you’re kicked in the gut, he’ll help you catch your breath.  (Psalm 34:18-20)

Some days…some lives…are a kick in the gut.  They break, chip away.  Crush.  But like an adult who can discern the needy heart in a second grade boy, Creator discerns the grown-up heart we try to hide.

Jesus knows what we need.  He offers nearness, encouragement, rest.

Perhaps today is a kick in the gut for you.  Perhaps life has been a kick in the gut.

May I encourage you?

When your heart is crushed, Jesus reaches down, comes alongside, runs to catch up.

He is the surprise landing as we free-fall from the pain.
He is the steady hand that holds us when all we want to do is run.
He is clear direction when we can’t see past the fog.

How does Jesus do it?  How, really, does He come near?

When random moms mistakenly think they are going to eat lunch with their own kid.

You’re going so He can go.

When random verses cross your mind as your heart is asking questions.

You’re remembering because He’s answering.

When random blog posts show up in your mailbox on the perfect day.

You’re reading so He can remind you.

Jesus lifts the burden so we can breathe.  Takes the weight of things we were never meant to carry.  Fills every unmet longing with sticky love and supremely reigning grace.

We are, after all, still just freckle-sprayed kids hoping that we matter.

And we do.

Taming The Beast

A big personality dominates my days.  She’s hilarious, wide-eyed and a bit sassy now and then. I’m trying to study coagulation cascade but third-born keeps interrupting me.

Mama, you say “NO, BELLE!  I WON’T LET YOU DO IT!!!” Beauty and the Beast on tap this morning as I break out the laptop.  Leighton is really into Belle these days.  So when she initiates a reenactment I laugh and give it all I’ve got.  (This is the scene where Belle insists on taking her father’s place in the Beast’s dungeon!) NOOOO, BELLE!!!  I WON’T LET YOU DO IT!!!! (Arms waving, eyebrows tightly knit) I think she’s a little surprised I gave it so much gusto.  She covers her mouth and giggles. After a few rounds of Papa and Belle she moves on.

Except now I’m entangled.

I’m thinking about book-loving, Gaston-refusing, self-sacrificing Belle. She reminds me of Love.  Belle is unafraid to be herself and knows how to set boundaries.  And yet when opportunity presents itself, she is capable of showing great love in the forms of honesty, patience, seeing past the exterior, forgiveness and great self-sacrifice.  By the end of the movie she not only tamed the Beast, she changed his heart. She revealed him.

Like rain against hard ground, Love persists until we soften.  Until our resistance is tamed.  Until we are revealed.

Beauty and Beast are fairy tale characters, this I know. But Jesus is real and His love is unrelenting. Sitting in my chair, laptop warming, I sense a whisper against my heart.  Reminding me of simplicity…how Love sees past the exterior of circumstance, past the current dial and setting of life. Jesus sees the real me. He sees the real you. Underneath. Doesn’t look away.  Doesn’t shake a finger.  Doesn’t scowl.  Doesn’t ignore. In time we find it safe to expose ourselves to Him. The more we are exposed to Love, the more our beast is tamed…insecurity, fear, resentment, anger, depression, jealousy, striving, hopelessness, loneliness, despair.

In the end, amidst turmoil and torches, Beast is transformed.  We finally see on the outside who he has always been on the inside.  Here’s the kick.  Beast was not transformed because he loved Belle. He changed because he was loved by Belle.

Perhaps my little fairy tale analogy seems silly today, but  truth burns my heart even as I type.  See, we are never transformed because we love God.  We are changed, healed and made whole because we are loved by God. The Bible says we love Him because He first loved us. Sometimes we get that backwards.  Try to love and do and be for God so He might love us back and maybe then we’ll be free of the chains and heavy burdens we carry. Yet Creator persistently finds unexpected ways to show us, reminds us, He went first.  Loved first.  Embraced first.  Sacrificed first.

Everything we could ever do or be is simply a reciprocation.  A response. It’s believing we are truly loved — first –and then living loved that truly tames and transforms the beast.

Fifteen Words

This scratchy back-to-school path I’m traveling finds me in between.

In between semesters. In between thoughts.

I keep thinking about an assignment from a class I just finished. I had to outline the New Testament book of 1st Corinthians paragraph by paragraph. Each summary statement could be no more than fifteen words — which you’d think makes it easier, but no. Harder.

One night, after reading one particularly well-known paragraph, I kinda snort-chuckled. You know, a mix of bewildering laugh and a disdaining nasal sound. I wasn’t snort-chuckling in regards to the scripture, but how in the world I was supposed to sum it up in less than fifteen words!

So, I read it aloud to my fifth grader. Naturally.

Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. (1st Cor 13:4-7, NRSV)

To her credit, Rivers did not snort-chuckle. She looked at me kind of wide-eyed, That is so hard to do! I agreed, I know! I can’t really do it!

This assignment really affected me in a subtle, yet meaningful, way. We could not give opinions about the scriptures. We could not go at it with a devotional mindset. The objective was to approach the scriptures from a critical approach: what was Paul’s message to his original audience?

Arduous.

Fifteen words or less? I had to really dig deep. Honestly, it took me a while…

Love is supremely unselfish, always seeks to build up others and never gives out.

(I know you just counted)

I could almost snort-chuckle now, but instead I do the slow sigh.

See, I find it much easier to live self-absorbed, tear others down (at least mentally) and quit (at least internally). I might keep going through the motions, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t walked away from the heart of the thing.

I’m captivated with this God-love. In a way that makes me stop to look at it, stare as though it’s a car crash on the side of the highway. Being a nurse, I want to know (in a disturbing way) if there are injuries. I might wonder do I need to stop. I want to deconstruct what I see.  Dissect what is happening.

And that’s it.

God’s Love. Deconstructed. I want to know what I’m looking at, what it means, what I really need to do.

Sometimes I get a glimpse of the monotony, the habit, the spiritual program.

I feel a wave of vague dissatisfaction. We keep doing what we do, but we don’t really change. We keep saying what we say, but we don’t change. We keep projecting and preaching and telling, and yet, we are the same as last year and ten years before that. The differences we measure are numbers in attendance, square footage of our buildings and maybe the percentage of the congregation tithing.

But what about the loving?

Sometimes it’s easier and much more comfortable to look the other way when we pass a roadside crash. It’s a better trip if we don’t have to look at the mess of it.

I can’t do it. I can’t look away from my own envy, boasting and arrogance. I can’t look away from my irritability, my resentments.

Oddly enough, I don’t feel “guilty.” I feel saddened because I know when I live loveless, I lose joy. But I also know that grace works on a gradient, rushes into a humble heart.

So, I think about my fifteen words. I know in some ways I live with a hard heart. It needs cracking. Crushing. It needs to bleed out pride and lie broken-empty.

Ready for a rush.

Boxing Air

Yesterday’s make up. T-shirt and old Adidas pants.  A short and lively game of Memory (keep the cards turned face up and race to make matches…mama-of-a-preschooler trick), a little dancing to Sesame Street and settle down for lunch.

Monday mornings after I’ve worked the weekend.

Finally I sit down to work on a class assignment.  I come across this passage and it sends a little zing to my heart:

For though I am free with respect to all, I have made myself a slave to all, so that I might win more of them. To the Jews I became a Jew, in order to win Jews. To those under the law I became as one under the law (though I myself am not under the law) so that I might win those under the law. To those outside the law I became as one outside the law (though I am not free from God’s law but am under Christ’s law) so that I might win those outside the law. To the weak I became weak, so that I might win the weak. I have become all things to all people, that I might by all means save some. I do it all for the sake of the gospel, so that I may share in its blessings….So I do not run aimlessly, nor do I box as though beating air; but I punish my body and enslave it, so that after proclaiming to others I myself should not be disqualified.  (1Corinthians 9:19-23, 26-27)

Monday morning house silent now except for the occasional sounds of spring breeze and chimes floating through my windows.  My vision fills with bright green leaves, fuchsia blooms and dancing shadows.  I can hardly take in what I believe Paul is saying.

So contrary to the way I’ve thought and lived for most of my life.  And yet I’ve heard the Paul letters preached my whole life.

Paul strives to win people to the gospel.  Not for the sake of winning, but for the sake of the gospel.  For the sake of people.

“I become all things to all people.”  He absolutely, purposefully and emphatically chose to relate to people exactly as they were. 

My heart quivers a bit.  Like leaves on the breeze, moved.

My heart hears a melody.  Like birdsong, a declaration.

The love of Christ changes the hearts of those filled with it.  The love of Christ  draws the lives of those exposed to it.

See, I’ve lived most of my faith this way:  I’ll tell you about God’s love and then you can prove you believe it by becoming like me.

Oh, I’m proud to be your counselor, advice-giver, corrector, judge and answer-giver.  But I won’t become like you.  I won’t relate to you.  Really hear you.  Truly see you.  Actually put myself in your shoes.  Attempt to understand the life you’ve lived, your experiences, your defenses and coping mechanisms.  I won’t love you, invest myself in you, without a return on my investment. 

But that is simply not the gospel!

The Gospel is a by all means affair.

Touching leprous skin
Sharing a table with criminals
Conversing with a woman of a hated race
Hanging bloody, like a thug, on a tree

Jesus loved deeply and freely.   He was a runner.  A becomer.  He ran toward the lost, not away from them.  He became the thing He was not–broken–so we could mend and be whole.

Blinded by love, Paul could finally see how much people mean to God.

So Paul ran.  Paul became.

No more holding back.  No more boxing air.

Jesus, help me to see what matters to you concerning people.  Help me see myself more humbly and clearly.  Help me stop doing the gospel by pushing people around with it and instead truly love them without an agenda.  Help me to have an open heart that you can fill up with your love for me.  Help me to give that love away freely, without expectations, while putting the response and results in your hands. 

Not What I Expected

Isaiah 53:1 (the message)
Who believes what we’ve heard and seen?
Who would have thought God’s saving power would look like this?

My little Leighton has developed a pattern lately. After we drop Rivers and Leah out at school and come back home she insists on being held and cuddled for a little while. School mornings are a high-gear affair, so stopping to just rock and cuddle requires a mental recalibration on my part.

But it’s worth it.

As she climbs on me this morning I flip over to Isaiah and I’m caught by the first verse of chapter 53.

Who would’ve thought it would look like this?

All I can think about is how often we think knowing Jesus and living a Christian life must fit neatly inside our upbringing and comfort zone. I am sweetly struck by reality. Messiah did not come as  expected. He did not take His cue from the expectations of the religious crowd.

We cannot choreograph knowing Him.

We cannot make Him fit or move.

Oh, I try. With the best of intentions I try. And yet I continue to slam into the same truth…Jesus is a person.

Not a formula to decode. Not a stagehand to direct.

I begin to sink into a truth now clinging in my arms.

Leighton just wants some mommy time. She wants the safety of my love. She’s not crying for a cup of milk…not squirming for a diaper change. She doesn’t even want me to play with her. She just wants to be close…draw near for a little while.

I find I’m surprised somewhere deep inside. She just wants me. For a little while every morning Leighton needs to be filled with my love and acceptance and know deep inside her little girl heart that I’m pleased to hold her. Pleased and overjoyed to give her what she needs.

Leighton and I, we don’t have a plan worked out. I have never once put her off or held back because she didn’t approach me the right way. She toddles over and reaches out her arms, unashamed and fully aware of my largeness, my power.

But she’s not afraid to need me. To want me.

To come.

See, I don’t think this is what we expect. I don’t think we’ve believed, reconciled within our battling hearts, that Creator makes Himself armchair available to us. It goes against every spiritual grain we possess.

But Jesus has always gone against the grain of human expectation.

Creator born of created, Majesty sleeping in straw.

The earth His footstool and yet walking, sandal-footed, along its dusty roads.

Pure perfection touching leprous hands.

Innocence and selfless love crowned with criminal thorns.

Who would’ve thought God’s saving power would look like this? 2,000 years later we think it makes perfect sense.

But we can’t just come. We don’t draw near unless we have a script.

And so we miss out on being filled. Frustration reigns because Jesus does not meet our expectations and operate inside our upbringing and comfort zone. What if we remember Jesus is a person who is more than able to show His power to the nations all the while holding us near? What if we accept it’s not always going to work the way we thought. Or even how we were taught.

Because the whole mess of redemption is about organic and eternal relationship…union…a wholeness and completion that rarely comes through well-written scripts.

I long to be filled. My deepest places crave nearness. Like Leighton, I just want to cling and hold on till I’m ready for the day. I dare to hope Jesus finds pleasure in my desire to be near. I dare to believe that coming near is enough. I dare to believe that a God Who would make Himself my sacrifice would most certainly welcome my company. The real me. The rogue, off-script and fumbling me.

I don’t wanna rehearse my lines. I don’t wanna play a part. So sometimes I have to come in silence. Sometimes I might pour out my heart with words or tears. Sometimes I may not hear or feel anything and sometimes I may shatter in awe as He clearly speaks.

It won’t matter. It doesn’t. I’m just gonna climb and cling like my little daughter with only one expectation.

Jesus wants to hold me.

My Gifts

RIVERS ELIZABETH          

animated, thoughtful, funny, nature-lover, talker, Jesus-follower, artsy, tough, all-american beauty, friend to all, leader big sister, daddy’s outdoorsy girl, articulate, mommy’s book-loving girl, intuitive, green, creative, smart, t-shirts, sparkle smile, “doodlebug,” my first-born gift.

LEAH RAYE              

independent, tender-hearted, up for a challenge, princess-lover, affectionate, helpful, determined, willing to share, daddy’s little hunter-girl, quick learner, natural beauty, brave, bedazzled, mommy’s brown-eyed girl, enamoured big sister, competitive, lip gloss, warm vanilla sugar smile, “little sweetie,” my second-born gift.

LEIGHTON  RENEE  

smiley, content, well-loved little sister, cuddly, discovering, growing, big blue eyes,  daddy’s arms, mommy’s kisses, watches big sisters, mellow, full of possibility, chubby cheeks, hand-crafted by Creator, precious, wants to see, long lashes, maple syrup sweet, gummy sunshine smile, “miss pricklepants,” my third-born gift.

Thank You

“A thankful attitude opens windows of Heaven.” — Sarah Young

good music with good lyrics
autumn
iTunes
good coffee
healing
jesus culture worship music
front porches
ben & jerry’s
church
my marriage
forgiveness
democracy
freedom
veterans
fresh baby smell
leah’s big brown eyes
wind chimes
life-long friendships
silly memories
new friendships
shannon’s work ethic
rivers’ sense of humor
leighton’s smile
in-laws i can laugh with
my answer to prayer nephews
my awesome sisters-in-law
yankee candles
pinky orange sunsets
sleds
my siblings
redemption
dreams
generous people
snaggletooth second-graders
a really good movie
people who love me like biology doesn’t matter
God’s presence
my Bible
answered prayers
His comfort when life hurts
grandparents
really good ink pens
gardenia
His kindness
pain that grew me
Heaven
the way leah sings to leighton
rivers reading for pleasure
shannon taking his girls hunting & fishing
my 10th anniversary surprise trip to mountains
meals made for us after coming home with leighton
people who do the work of showing love
my 10-year-old jeep
Jesus Calling by Sarah Young
plenty: food, clothing, shelter, utilities, love
my years in nursing
steak & loaded baked potatoes
my girls jumping in enormous piles of leaves
grace
holding on
letting go
shannon bringing home ben & jerry’s without me asking
random text messages that say i love you
stay up past midnight reading kind of books
mercy
fresh starts
God’s unconditional love
my parents
the ocean
sleeping in
really good sweet tea
repentance
spiritual freedom
stability
purpose
laughing with a good friend
remembering
forgetting
moving forward
a comeback story
a comeback marriage
His nearness
a good cry
chocolate
mascara
clean sheets
slow dancing
christmas lights
the way Jesus changes things
the chance to make a difference
peace with God
peace of God
not knowing
finally understanding
learning to really trust God
learning to be real
second chances
girls night
thick, warm socks in winter
pullen park re-opening
my cousin’s son, Zeb
a change in perspective
much-needed reminders it’s not about me
Pelican’s snow balls
“movie night” with my family
watching my girls play together outside
Bible story and bedtime prayers
on the way to school prayers
rivers singing and dancing to songs from kid’s church
aunt laurie’s drawings
His Spirit within
passion
being broken
being filled
becoming more
receiving more
learning more
than i could ever have imagined or articulate….

Jesus, thank you for my life. Even the hard parts, the slow parts, the monotonous parts, the scary parts. Thank you because when I take the time to think about everything I love about living I know that it starts in You. You are everything. Every good and perfect gift comes down from the Father…

 

My Jesus…

Jesus…
You are everything that is good in me
You are all of my hope and strength
Without you I am grumpy, tired, critical and worn out
In you I am renewed and ready, hopeful and expecting the best

Jesus…
Thank you for your patience with me
Thank you for never letting go of my hand
Thank you that even when I am a mess, your plans for me remain
Thank you…because even a bad day just reminds me
You are the one who is good…not me.

Jesus…
Where would I be without you in my life?
What would have become of me?

Jesus…
You have saved me in every way
You continue to rescue me…teach me…nudge me…forgive me…
You deserve all of me
Yet I can’t even yield to you without you enabling me to do so

Jesus…
You know me
I am ordinary
Sometimes I struggle
I get tripped up in my weaknesses

Jesus….
I know you
You are extraordinary
You never waver or waffle
You are always the same: powerful and kind

Everyday, I need you. There is not a day that goes by in which I can fulfill my destiny on my own. You are the safest place, the surest place. You are my very best friend and companion. One day…one day…I will actually look up into your face…look into your eyes. When I was young it was like a fairy tale. But now I have hurt enough, made enough mistakes, realized how incapable I am of changing myself, to realize you are everything. If I were to live this life with you on the perimeter of my thoughts…your presence an occasional experience…never hearing your sweet whisper to my heart…I would miss out on the meaning of my life.  You are not part of who I am.  You are not a file in my cabinet.  I am learning, day by day, that your place is in the core of who I am…I can’t have a “place” for you in my heart….You are my heart and I pray every other thing that grows out of my life has its’ roots in you.  I know sometimes I drift from that…forgive me…help me…at the end of the day let it be you who picks the me up out of the rubble of my crash.  Let it be you who soothes my heart, washes away the grime of sin and sits with me…in the quiet comfort of friends who really, really know each other.  I could write forever and be at a loss for words…the majesty of a King and the gentle kindness of a shepherd.  The power of Creator and the meekness of a servant.  The wonder of a miracle-worker and the simplicity of a story-teller.  The irony of God resting in a manger so He could hang on a cross.  The tears of Calvary and the worship of Heaven.  The keys of death in nailed scarred hands.  A missing Jewish corpse and the certainty He lives.  My Jesus.