Blog

“O Cross that Liftest Up My Head” (George Matheson)…

sparrowsongLeave a comment

The final stanza to George Matheson’s hymn “O Love That Will Not Let Me Go” makes clear the calling each follower of Christ is called to:

 

O Cross that liftest up my head

I do not ask to fly from thee

I lay in dust life’s glory dead

And from the ground there blossoms red

Life that shall ever be.

 

Our earthly lives can be full of blessing, and simultaneously, full of suffering, marked my wounds and scars we’ve received along the way. The apostle Peter speaks to this in I Peter 4:12: “My dear brothers, do not be surprised at the test you are suffering, as though something unusual was happening to you. Rather, rejoice that you are sharing in the suffering of Christ, so that you may be full of joy when His glory is revealed.”

 

We share in the suffering of Christ, who suffered all things for us, and we are promised joy as the end result. When Jesus returned to the disciples after the crucifixion and the apostle Thomas doubted his resurrected identity, Jesus told him to feel the wounds in his side and his hands. Jesus offered Thomas total transparency, knowing this apostle would one day be martyred for his efforts to share the gospel in modern day India.

 

As author Sheila Walsh states in her book It’s Okay Not to Be Okay: Moving Forward One Day At a Time:
“There is no image that displays the love of God more perfectly than the scars of Jesus. The scars tell God’s story. ‘That Sunday evening the disciples were meeting behind locked doors because they were afraid of the Jewish leaders. Suddenly, Jesus was standing there among them! ‘Peace be with you,’ he said. As he spoke, he showed them the wounds in his hands and his side. They were filled with joy when they saw the Lord!’ (John 20:19–20)

But before the joy, there was heartache and questions. Nothing made sense anymore.

We all know we’ll face challenges in life, but sometimes we’re hit by something that feels as if the enemy has won. That’s a frightening place to be. That must have been how the disciples felt that night.

But as the risen Christ held out His nail-pierced hands and wounded side to His friends, they were no longer marks of death, they were signs of victory: declaring that death was overcome by the blood of the Lamb. Christ wears those scars in heaven as glorious trophies of the battle He has won.

The only wound from this earth in eternity will be the scars of Christ (emphasis mine). If Christ has chosen to live eternally with His scars, why would we be ashamed to show ours?

I think that every time God the Father sees the pierced hands and feet of Christ, He sees you and me. The scars tell God’s love story.

The love of God invites us to bring our scars into the light. We don’t have to hide anymore. It really is okay not to be okay.

Our scars are proof that God heals.”

“There Is No There, There” (Shauna Niequist)-

sparrowsong2 Comments

The besetting sin in my life would definitely be perfectionism. I’m task-oriented, uber-organized, a performer, a big fan of structure, routine and predictability. I like my spaces, relationships, and life neat and tidy. So many things in the past have spun out of control. Somewhere along the line, I learned to cope by controlling the things I could in my physical environment or at least attempting to do so.

 

But control is always an illusion. Life rarely fits into neat and tidy compartments.  I’m learning, of course, but it’s such a struggle for me to let go. When I can do just that, when I can stay in the moment, each one is a gift. I love what Abraham Lincoln said: “Yesterday’s history, tomorrow’s a mystery, today is a gift…that’s why they call it the present.”

 

Shauna Niequist has an excellent study entitled Present Over Perfect. That, my friends, is the goal: I want to learn to be present where I’m called to be, in each real moment, not continuously striving for an elusive quality of perfection that might even be termed destructive. There’s a phrase I learned through that study that often comes to mind when I find myself in one of those manic obsessive-compulsive drives: “There is no there, there.” North-American culture, as well as many others, can be so performance and appearance oriented. It’s as if we’re all striving to reach a perfect place where we will someday arrive, to find a euphoric Zen state to dwell in. But does it exist this side of heaven?

 
Shauna also talks about learning to flee a life where she was frantically searching for a diamond necklace, when all the time, it hung around her neck. Aren’t we all…just…searching? “There is no there, there.” A diamond necklace DOES grace each one of our necks. It was placed there by our Father God. His Presence perfects us, makes our present moments all they should be. The only way to be present over perfect is to accept that in His perfection, He made us totally right, made everything alright. He accepted us as we are, made us His own, and gave us all we need. May we each find the grace to receive the gifts we’ve been given, to open our arms and receive the provision that perfects our present.

Come to the Water: Dipping Our Toes-

sparrowsongLeave a comment

Almost daily, I’m struck by how fiercely independent my nature is, and simultaneously, how desperately dependent I am. Having traveled internationally and lived as a single woman into my mid-thirties, I have a stubborn independent streak. Perhaps this is true of most North-Americans. We take pride in the things we can do for ourselves, in standing on our own two feet. At the same time, there aren’t many days where I’m not running to the feet of my Lord, eager for His companionship and strength, sure in the knowledge that I can’t make it without His help. Even at my best, when I feel successful and happy and connected, I’m often crying out for the fullness of His presence.

 

I’m not sure who it was that said if God’s love is an ocean, we spend our human lives walking along the seashore, dipping our toes in the waves that roll in. Sometimes we watch from a distance, at others we wade in ankle deep, and in our bravest moments, we go out for a short swim. Few of us learn to stay completely saturated and afloat. But the presence of the ocean is constant and undeniable, and there’s always, always more. In The Rhett Walker Band’s song “Come to the River,” they encourage us, “Come to the river; Oh and lay yourself down; Let your heart be found.”

 

Despite that stubborn independent streak of mine that keeps me dipping my toes when an ocean awaits, I know that my faithful God will bring the tide in each day and that He delights to come to my rescue. Psalm 93:2 says, “The seas have lifted up, O LORD, the seas have lifted up their voice….” His love will never fail. 

 

As I listened to a song by Lauren Daigle on her new album “Look Up Child,” it brought me to tears to think of how the King of the universe is so moved by my needs, He would move the world to “Rescue” me. She sings:

 
“You are not hidden
There’s never been a moment
You were forgotten
You are not hopeless
Though you have been broken
Your innocence stolen

I hear you whisper underneath your breath
I hear your SOS
Your SOS

I will send out an army
To find You in the middle of the darkest night
It’s true, I will rescue you

There is no distance
That cannot be covered
Over and over
You’re not defenseless
I’ll be your shelter
I’ll be your armor

I hear you whisper underneath your breath
I hear your SOS, your SOS

I will send out an army
To find You in the middle of the darkest night
It’s true, I will rescue you
I will never stop marching
To reach you in the middle of the hardest fight
It’s true, I will rescue you.”

 

Psalm 94: 9, 18-19 assures us, “Does He who implanted the ear not hear? Does He who formed the eye not see?… When I said, ‘My foot is slipping, your love, O LORD, supported me. When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul.” For each one of us in need of rescue today, for the helpless who don’t have a voice…we are seen, we are heard, we are known. He will rescue us.

The Magic of Ordinary Days…

sparrowsong4 Comments

At last, my husband and I have entered a season of normalcy, a time of settling…at last. For him, it involves the beginning of a new job and the ascent of a high learning curve. For me, it is a return to the familiar, finding once more the cadence of a place my heart knows and loves. The rituals of living consume a good portion of the day, but as I clean, work or study, prepare meals, exercise or walk the dogs, I find in each ordinary task an extraordinary richness. After being away from all this for several months, my eyes are opened to the magic and gift of this life. The consistent, quiet routine nourishes my soul.

 

In her blog entitled, “When You Need a Survival Guide for the Soul,” author Ann Voskamp writes, “Habits are the way we wear our days…. Habits are the small gears that leverage your life–and if you change your rhythms, you can change anything into a possibility. You change your life when you change how you meet Christ every day. Our rhythms become our everyday liturgy, the cadence of the hours that reorient our tired souls.”

 

After almost four decades, I am learning little habits that help me to enjoy life a bit more. I try to do one thing at a time. I take a deep breath and look around when I eat a meal. I drink a cold glass of ice water and listen to music as I cook. I stop what I’m doing to be fully present when someone walks in the room. I read more and watch television less. I smile when I walk. Late in her life, Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote, “I am beginning to learn that it is the sweet, simple things of life which are the real ones after all.”

 
Ann Voskamp continues, “Musicians play one right note after the next right note after the next right note. It’s not an erratic splattering of sound or a fickle, helter-skelter banging of random notes. Music has order. It is composed. The notes played are intentional, considered, and deliberate. Lives that have rhythm sing. They don’t survive — they thrive…. Consistently keep the same soul rhythms every day, and you grow deeper into Him, the One who will reweave your soul into glory.” As we play each simple note, one after another, may the melody bring peace to others, and to our own souls…may it inspire us to thrive in each ordinary day.  

A Spacious Place…

sparrowsong1 Comment

Just now I’m listening to the song of wind chimes blowing in a gentle summer breeze outside my window. Curtains rustle as the light filters in. The dogs sleep in a mix of sun and shade under a tree where apples ripen in preparation for the autumn harvest. I sit at the table with the extraordinary gift before me of a peaceful, quiet time in which to read and reflect and write. As friends begin teaching children for a new school year, a blessing we once shared, I have a whiff of nostalgia, but breath a deep sigh of relief, for I know it had become too much for my fragile body.

 

A man walks his clomping horse up the dirt road where we live in this one-of-a-kind small mountain town. Though late August, the tundra on the hills has begun to change and the evenings are cooler. I settle into the weekday morning quiet of this world and feel deep gratitude for the season of rest I’ve been granted in this beautiful and spacious place. Studies completed, new paths opened and explored, more adventures and learning await and good work will need to be done. But for now, this day, I rest and give thanks.

 

Many times this was among the things only hoped for and imagined. That being said, it is important that I remember: my Father God and loving friends generously sacrificed and gave to share this with me. Both have been oh so sweet and faithful. As Psalm 18:16-19 proclaims, “He reached down from on high and took hold of me; He drew me out of deep waters. He rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes, who were too strong for me. They confronted me in the day of my disaster, but the LORD was my support. He brought me out into a spacious place; He rescued me because He delighted in me.”
As author Ann Voskamp states, the act of remembering re-members us, helping rejoin the broken pieces. A dear friend reminded me today: there have been miracles…. there will be miracles. It’s good to remember. The chimes sound as the winds stir a song of praise.  

Strong Hands, New Eyes…

sparrowsongLeave a comment

Oscar Wilde once said, “It takes great courage to see the world in all its tainted glory, and still to love it.” This truth often strikes me, for, on a daily basis, I am amazed by the beauty and kindness and inspirational perseverance around me. On an equally frequent level, I am confronted with woundedness, ugliness, and hypocrisy. To hold the tension of this world’s  “tainted glory” well takes great balance and skill. Whatever and whoever there may be in my own path, I am quick to judge, to praise or condemn, to choose a personal response that has the potential to fall on either end of the spectrum.

 

Whether in line at the post office or the supermarket, driving, walking in the beautiful mountain town where I live, or working, I cross paths with many I choose to ignore. How many do I encounter every day who are longing to be seen or heard or helped in some way? Most often, I choose to believe that my schedule is too busy, my hands are too small and weak. I allow my eyes to cloud over and my mind to wander back to its self-preoccupation.

 

But what if my small hands are strong enough to offer a drink to the thirsty? What if doing so is the water my own soul needs? As David Foster Wallace says in his graduation speech entitled “This Is Water,” “Sometimes the hardest and most important realities are often the hardest to talk about.” In the petty frustrations of day-to-day living with narrow-sighted vision, it is only in choosing to look around with compassion that we find our own paths enlarged.

 

Just as  Jesus did, we are called, “…to preach good news to the poor…to bind up the brokenhearted…to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor…to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve…to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair” (Isaiah 61:1b-3a). God says that “…if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday” (Isaiah 58:10).

 

Spanish-speaking artists Marcela Gándara and Jesus Adrian Romero have a beautiful song entitled “Dame Tus Ojos” (“Give Me Your Eyes”). In the song, they ask God, “Give me your eyes I want to see. Give me your words, I want to speak.” The song is a petition to be filled with the Spirit of God in every step. As we become Christ’s body and His church, may we literally be His hands and feet, see with His eyes, love with His heart.

***Photo Credits: Brainy Quote

Cracks…

sparrowsong1 Comment

There really isn’t a time in my life when I don’t remember actively walking with the Lord, so one would think that as I begin my thirty-seventh year, I would pretty much have this walk down. Wrong. There are so many days when I feel distant from my Father, so many times when I clearly see my sin and flaws realized in bad behavior. This worn vessel cracks and leaks in ways that make it appear less than ideal for useful service. I hurt those I love most and fall short of God’s glory and my own ambitions every day. At times I am the judgemental older brother, at others, I know myself to be as the wandering and rebellious prodigal son.

 

As RZIM A Slice of Infinity author Jill Carattini pointed out, there’s an easily glanced over phrase in the prodigal son story, “…the prodigal ‘came to himself’ and, at this, he decides to turn back to the father…. The son is one who wakes to health and life again, having been unconscious of his true condition. Standing in a foreign field hungry and alone, the son comes to something more than a good decision. He is waking to an identity he knew in part but never fully realized. He is remembering life in his father’s house again, though for the first time.”

 

How easy it is to lose sight of our identity when we wander away from our Father’s house. How easy it is to forget who God says I am. Lauren Daigle’s recent song, “You Say” beautifully affirms that He sees me cleansed, perfected, and redeemed. He provides acceptance and belonging. No matter what condition I’m in, I can always turn back to the open and waiting arms of my loving Father God.

 

This vessel may be cracked, but may it come to itself, may it come home, and may it be of use. As the apostle Paul said in II Corinthians 5:7-9, “7 But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. 8 We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; 9 persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.”

 

Canadian poet and songwriter Leonard Cohen also summed it up well in his song “Anthem,”:
“Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.”

It Is Well…

sparrowsong2 Comments

The past two years of my life have seen more change than the previous ten altogether. After a long waiting season, through an unexpected breaking process, God moved in both difficult and incredible ways. He asked me to release a teaching career that had been my passion and security in adulthood. He moved me back home and placed a man in my life to love and to marry. Then, the same month of our marriage, my husband’s mother was diagnosed with stage four ovarian cancer. Within four months, she passed away. We left everything to come to Puerto Rico, see her before she passed, and manage her estate. Months later, we remain here, searching for a solution for a disabled family member she cared for.

 

The more answers we seek, the more doors close. One slight move on the board changes the whole game, perhaps for the rest of our lives. We pray for guidance, but the heavens remain silent. I believe my Father is attentively at work in ways I can’t see or understand. I trust His hand, but sometimes, the weight of the unknown feels like enough to press me into the ground and bury me there. In the midst of it all, I feel ushered into the eye of the storm where one call is certain, “Surrender.”

 

The earth quakes and the storms come, and yet…it is well with my soul. I’ve thought often of the old hymn of that title, written by Horatio Spafford after he lost his family in an ocean storm. “When peace, like a river, attendeth my way, When sorrows like sea billows roll; Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, It is well, it is well with my soul.” Bethel Music artist Kristene DiMarco recently rewrote the song with words that pierce my soul. “So let my soul go and trust in Him. The waves and wind still know His name.”

 

It Is Well
Bethel Music (Written by Kristen DiMarco) 


Grander earth has quaked before
Moved by the sound of His voice
Seas that are shaken and stirred
Can be calmed and broken for my regard
And through it all, through it all
My eyes are on You
And through it all, through it all
It is well
And through it all, through it all
My eyes are on You
And it is well with me
And far be it from me to not believe
Even when my eyes can’t see
And this mountain that’s in front of me
Will be thrown into the midst of the sea
And through it all, through it all
My eyes are on You
And through it all, through it all
It is well
And through it all, through it all
My eyes are on You
And it is well
It is well
So let go my soul and trust in Him
The waves and wind still know His name
So let go my soul and trust in Him
The waves and wind still know His name…

“The Room of Love…”

sparrowsongLeave a comment

As a new bride, I’ve thought a lot about the ways earthly love mirrors the love of our Heavenly Father. Without a doubt, marriage provides experience with the complicated mysteries and pressures of relationships, especially under high amounts of outside conflict and stress. It also allows us a window into the transcendent nature of love. Recently, I’ve reread a favorite novel that does a nice job of tackling both themes.

With an expert hand, Wendell Berry weaves the characteristics of a romance into his women’s fiction novel Hannah Coulter. Hannah remembers the pressures she and her husband Nathan were under within their marriage as they worked their farm, “The making of the place was the thing that ruled over everything else, for we were living from the place…. And as our work shaped our workplaces, our work and our workplaces shaped our days. Our work brought us together and drew us apart.” She articulates the tensions that came between them, “We had differences. There were the agreed-on differences of work. There were the accepted, mostly happy differences between a man and a woman. There were the differences of nature and character that were sometimes happy and sometimes not. Some of the things that most endeared Nathan to me—his quietness, his love of his work, his determination—were the things that could sometimes make me maddest at him.”

Most of all, however, Hannah focuses on the love that united them, “The room of love is another world. You go there wearing no watch, watching no clock. It is the world without end, so small that two people can hold it in their arms, and yet it is bigger than world on worlds, for it contains the longing of all things to be together, and to be at rest together. You come together to the day’s end, weary and sore, troubled and afraid. You take it all into your arms, it goes away, and there you are where giving and taking are the same, and you live a little while entirely in a gift. The worlds have all been said, all permissions given, and you are free in the place that is the two of you together. What could be more heavenly than to have desire and satisfaction in the same room? If you want to know why even in telling of trouble and sorrow I am giving thanks, this is why.”

I’m giving thanks too, for the room of love and the big mix that life and love are. I pray I can accept giving and taking as the same, embrace all in my arms and accept them for the gifts that they are.

***All quotes taken from: Berry, Wendell. Hannah Coulter: A Novel. Counterpoint, 2004.***