glorious!!!

 

“if i sing out
in the dark
of night
or praise You
in the light
of dawn,
hear my song
and lift me
on Your wings ~

 
 

 

 

and if i worship You in solitude
or join a choir
ten thousand strong,
hear my song ’til all creation sings …

 

glorious!  shining so glorious!
though i stumble, though i fall,
You remain glorious!
towards Your light
i come running, i come running
into Your arms
i come running, i come running…

 

You have searched me
You have known my heart
You’ve heard my every anxious thought
hear my song, it’s all i have to bring ~
and though the battles come
this much is known:
the victory’s won by You alone
hear my song, my Savior and my King!

i’m singing
glorious!  shining so glorious!
though i stumble, though i fall,
You remain glorious!
towards Your light
i come running, i come running
into Your arms
i come running, i come running…

every faithless mission, every false ambition ~
here, I lay them at Your feet…
as in heaven, as on earth
i will ever sing Your worth ~ You alone make me complete!

glorious, shining so glorious ~
though i stumble, though i fall,
You remain glorious!
towards Your light
i come running, i come running
into Your arms
i come running, i come running…”

~ newsboys ~

at some point this wonderful song gets played every single morning on my radio station, and whenever it is i can’t help but drop what i’m doing and sing along with my hands high in the air toward heaven ~ it’s my morning prayer to the Lord and after all these months i have yet to get through it without being moved to tears.  there simply is no day when it doesn’t express my heart.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c7QyTWF1irw

 

pressing on needs a part three, actually.

 i’ve spent most of my fifty-some years reminding God that He created me to be addicted-for-life to the salt water breezes and that surely He’d never ask me to venture very far inland for very long.  i’ve reminded Him to the point where i secretly suspect He might someday send me deep into america’s heartland where it’s parched and dry and oh-so-far from the coast, just to grow that demanding corner of my heart because He knows that would be a good thing.  and i suppose He’d be right.

meanwhile, i’m savoring where i’m situated here in the pacific northwest, even on gray, damp, dreary days like today.  so i’m sure it comes as no surprise to tell you nothing pushes me further out of my comfort box than to read in exodus about the people of israel and their forty-year whiney wandering in the middle eastern wilderness.

our new church has just called a new pastor, who spent all of last week getting to know us before he was officially asked to come.  one of those “getting to know you” times was at o-dark-o’clock last wednesday morning where twenty or thirty of us bleary-eyed souls gathered with pastor phil mccallum to learn a new approach to morning devotions with God and our Bibles.

because it was january 27 and the nifty little reading calendar he handed out called for it we opened our Bibles to exodus chapter 17, where lo and behold, if we didn’t find ourselves wandering the wilderness with israel. 

“start here and read the next four chapters,” was the challenge, “and when something jumps off the page at you, stop and write about it.  then ask God to use it to change you as you begin your day.”  or something like that.  (since my brain would not show up for three more hours i’m a little fuzzy on the details.)

a little background here:  keep in mind that exodus 17 finds the people of israel wandering only a month after they’d had seen God miraculously carry them out of egypt’s choking grip, pulling back the red sea so they could cross it and escape.  only a week after they’d seen God miraculously start sending manna-meals to the ground, every single morning, to keep them alive.  they’d seen plagues of locusts and frogs, watched moses’ staff turn the nile river to blood.  they’d heard the night wailing of every egyptian family who’d lost their firstborn son as the nation refused the Lord’s call to let His people go.

heavy stuff.  i know someone who says they’d believe in God if He showed up big.  well, that’s big. 

anyway, i dutifully started reading.  and i got stuck on the very first verses.  when i finished reading i flipped back to them and have been thinking about them ever since. 

here’s what they said:

“then all the congregation of the sons of israel journeyed by stages from the wilderness of Sin, according to the command of the Lord, and camped at rephidim, and there was no water for the people to drink.

 therefore, the people quarreled with moses …. the people thirsted there for water, and they grumbled against moses …. so moses cried out to the Lord, saying “what shall i do to this people?  a little more and they will stone me!” …

then the Lord said to moses, ‘pass before the people … take in your hand your staff with which you struck the nile, and go.  behold, I will stand before you there on the rock … and you shall strike the rock, and water will come out of it, that the people may drink.’  and moses did so ………

then amalek came and fought against israel … so moses said to joshua, ‘choose men for us and go out, fight against amalek….  and joshua did as moses told him.”

and here’s what i wrote:

before we shake an impatient, accusing finger at israel we’ve got to admit our life journey isn’t always so different from theirs.  despite our fumbling, bumbling, stumbling and stubborn choices God has faithfully led us and provided for us ~ sometimes even miraculously.  but how quickly we forget that…

sometimes we find ourselves “in the wilderness” because we’ve walked ourselves out there.  but i read in exodus that sometimes the Lord actually leads us out there, even to places where we feel parched and desperate.  because at those times, in those places, what’s really in our hearts becomes obvious.  what needs help becomes very clear.  or as a longtime friend and pastor once told me, “what flows out of us when we get squeezed reveals what’s flowing inside of us all the time ~ is it lemon juice or lemonade?” 

israel grumbled and quarreled.  and sometimes i do, too.  so i’m thinkin’ lemon juice.
oh Lord, give me Your grace to sweeten that up.

and our journey out from the wilderness is in stages.  how i wish that weren’t so.  how i wish disobedience ~ mine or someone’s close to me ~ could be met with an “ahaa!!” lightening bolt of a moment that once and forever changed a course and a character.  but no.  real change takes time.  and usually lots of it.  and the journey is so wearying along the way.  two steps forward, one step ~ or three ~ back.  darn it.

most amazing to me is that despite all the grumbling and complaining and faithless fretting, in the middle of the wilderness the Lord still gave those ornery people every single thing they needed to live and walk and keep following Him.  every single day.
for forty years.

now the forty years part was their own doing.  God had set them on an unmistakably direct line, marked by miracles at every turn, through the sand to the land He’d long promised them.  but when they got within shouting distance and sent spies ahead to scope it out, ten of the twelve men came back shaking in their boots saying, “nope, can’t do it.  not gonna.”

only young caleb and joshua seemed to remember any of what the Lord brought them through.  and their courage was loudly overruled, so a patient God took action, the straight line went curvy, and everyone took a forty year trudge until the faithless had fallen and were buried in the dunes.

yikes.  that’s harsh.  everyone took that forty year trudge.  even joshua.  the one who’d done everything he was asked.  the one who’d shown courage and fought hard and who could see clearly what the Lord could ~ would ~ do if they’d just keep pressing on.

to my dismay i’m not sure i could take that trudge without resenting it.
“it wasn’t me, Lord, that got us into this mess!”
“why do i have to be so impacted by someone else’s sin?”
“but i don’t want to wait for them to come around!”

grumbling.  lemon juice.

but joshua just trudged.  and trusted.  and kept doing what he was told. and when the forty years were over he was still standing, still obeying, so the Lord could use him to lead the way into that promised land i might have given up all hope for.

Lord, will You somehow make me like joshua?  give me Your grace to walk alongside and just keep trudging, trusting, doing what You ask of me.  and give me a heart of lemonade!

 

pressing on, part two…

fingers press strings and piano keys to make music.
fingers also press buttons in elevators to make them go up and down.
and fingers press keys on a computer to make words appear.
irons press fabric to make it lay in the right direction.
powder is pressed to make our cheeks look rosy.
rubber stamps press ink onto paper to make marks. 
printing presses press ink harder to make books.
we press pressure points to make sure someone is living,
or to make blood stop flowing where it shouldn’t be.
pressing coffee makes it taste better, or so i’m told.
feet press pedals to make cars drive fast or slow down.

when grapes are pressed they burst and make juice.
the same is true for oranges and lemons and limes and apples.
basketball players press their opponents to make each other lose the ball.
attorneys press their witnesses to make the truth come out.
wrestlers press heavy weights to make themselves stronger.
lips press to make a kiss.
arms press to make someone move out of the way.
flowers are pressed between paper to make them flat…

pressing makes things happen and pressing makes things stop happening.

usually something is pressed until it can’t be pressed any further or any more.  or until it’s time to stop or else.  you don’t press a button through the wall or piano keys through to the floor.  grapes can only be pressed so hard before they burst and become juice.  press a basketball player too hard and you get a whistle blown in your direction.
press a gas pedal too long and you hit something. 

pressing has limits.  or it should.

but life is different.  life can press us to make us busy.  life can press us up, down, back and forth, and even from all directions at once.  life can press hard.  really hard.  too hard.  and sometimes we wonder if we’ll burst from the pressing.  well, i have, anyway.  and although i’m not inclined to elaborate about the particulars of mine :-) i’m guessing you could probably talk about seasons like that, too.  you can take my word for it and believe that longer than i’d have chosen for myself in The Middle Ages, life has been pressing me.

i don’t know about you, but when i hear the very same words twice in one week, i am inclined to pay attention.  mind you, it would be good if it only took once, but when it’s twice, i assume Someone is trying to get my attention.
and i listen up.

well, right in the middle of all that pressing and twice in the last seven days i’ve been challenged with exactly the same set of words from two very different people ~ people who don’t even know each other.  words from the Bible, from the New Testament letter to the Philippians … from chapter three, verses twelve and thirteen:

” … i press on,
so that i may lay hold of that
for which also i was laid hold of by Christ Jesus.
forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead,
i press on
toward the goal…”

notice the word that follows “press”.
turns out when you add “on” to “press” it changes everything. 
“press on“  means “to continue moving ~ forward“.

as it is with so much of Scripture i suspect when the Lord challenges us to “press on” it’s because to do that is exactly the opposite of what seems reasonable at the time.  when you’re being hard-pressed it seems way more reasonable to get very small, or to hide, or to shrink back, or even to give up, don’t you think? 

when i feel pressed or squeezed  it takes energy ~ lots of energy, sometimes ~ just to keep standing.  so the thought of moving forward in those shoes seems like way, way too ambitious a goal.

and yet that’s what we’re called to do.  which is why, when i heard these words for the second time in a week i said ~ and rather boldly, as i think about it now ~
     “OK LORD, i got it.  but You need to give me something more than just the what for this one.  i need the how and the who, here!  and the why wouldn’t hurt, either.”

which, of course, He did.  (so be careful what you ask for.)

 anyway, here’s what i’m starting to figure out …

the how is first about forgetting.  whether the things-past-and-now-part-of-my-story are chapters i would rather snuggle into and read over and over or rip out and throw in the fire they are only useful anymore to the extent that they make me wiser for navigating the next ones. 

dwelling on the past is not only unhealthy, but not helpful, and it leaves me either longing for what i no longer have or for what i may or may not ever get.  either way, that involves too much “i” and it’s time to face forward, at least, and anticipate instead what could be coming next.  because ready or not, something is coming next.

the second part of how is about reaching.  that’s a very intentional word, and one that i think will need me to stretch.  it requires looking ~ searching, even ~ to find and see the next spot on the path where my foot needs to land.  and to actually take a step toward it, or two or three, even if that means pressing on through a wall of whatever is trying to make me step back again.  and for me, at least, there is always a wall of something.

that sounds like such hard work.  and i’m not at all sure i’m up to it.
but that brings me to the other thing i’m figuring out.

the third part of how.  it’s about laying hold.  i get to use my hands!  there are hand-holds to grasp and grab onto to keep me upright and pull me along while i’m pressing on…  the promises of Scripture … the ear and heart and prayers of a good and godly friend… the uncanny evidences of God’s watchful, providential eye over me and my day.  all hand-holds.  and i need them all.

but the best part of this whole pressing on is the who.  or rather, the Who.
 Jesus is the Who.
and these verses tell me He has already laid hold of me. 
He has an unchallenged grip on my hand and my life
and He will hold me.
He won’t let go.
He will keep me pressing on if i’ll entrust myself to that.
if i just keep sticking my foot out
in the direction He shows me,
one determined step at a time.

the Who is why enough for me.  and if He’s in charge of the goal, it’s worth getting there.

so i’m pressing on.  yes.  this is good. 

 

pressing on, part one…

so on the way home from the gym just now i had to call steve and confess i’d taken kenny loggins with me (in this new-to-me and tiny little wonder) and together they had absolutely transformed my two miles on the treadmill. 

you know those now-iconic ipod t.v. commercials where silhouettes dance wildly around with two white cords hanging crazily from their heads?  well, in my heart, that was me.    but even in public i actually ran almost a quarter mile and hardly felt it ’til the end, thanks to “footloose” filling the big empty space between my ears.  can i hear a big “yeehaw!!”  ?  i am still amazed.

yesterday morning i was challenged to be “pressing on” (which i will speak to another day on a much deeper level, i promise) but today i have to tip my hat to apple for being a new hero in my forward journey to fitness.

and while i was tuned in to the overhead t.v. monitors strategically hung like carrots before the row of treadmills i listened to bonnie hunt lead an on-air discussion about a misguided young-and-beautiful-twenty-something who recently underwent ten plastic facial surgery procedures in a single day to make herself more contented with what she saw in the mirror.  now mind you, having just had my field of vision restored with the loss of two very saggy eyelids i am not opposed to correction where correction is needed.  but i agreed with bonnie and her guest that the mom in me wants to hug this dear young woman and carry her to a place of emotional freedom and safety where you don’t have to overhaul your package to be ok in your skin.

and the sound bite i took away from that is one that will keep me smiling, i think, for a very long time:  “i’ve earned this wrinkles, thank you very much, through a lot of years of hard, hard work.” 

amen, sister.  and press on! 

 

all for a little buckeroo

                                                                                saturday afternoon two-dozen-plus of us gathered at my sister-in-law leona’s house to make sure one precious-and-already-much-loved little guy named jayden lane has what he needs to make his grand entrance in a few weeks.

i know families and dear friends are meant to be the safe place where we’re supported and surrounded for the big events of our lives.  and i love that.  but when these dear people come together to be that for my daughters ~ i am overwhelmed.

i’m glad jaimie liked the cowboy quilt (and this picture confirms she did, i suppose), but way more than documenting this sweet fact i find here another one.  looking at my two grown daughters is a necessary reality check for me.  one of those fast-forward-full-circle moments that declare to me kellie and jaimie really are all that ~ grown.   that all those years of watching and working and wondering and waiting as they were growing are a memory now.  and that i can now step back to see what God did while i was so occupied with those things.  much of what He did was in spite of me, that’s for sure, and getting to be called “mom” by these two is an honor for me, every single day.

so we wore red kerchiefs and ate brownie sundaes among cowboy boots and fun red flowers thanks to mom and my sister karen, and kellie made us all laugh with her hilarious match game that partnered baby words with candy bars … finding “full diaper” earned you a “mounds” bar, and getting “gassy tummy” was rewarded with a package of “sour patch kids”.    

two sets of twins graced our gathering ~ reece and riley toddled around while ashley and brittany (wonderful young ladies who can’t already be that old) jumped in to help in another fast-forward moment all its own.

then jaimie found herself buried in wrapping paper and presents and a landslide of adorable outfits that will fill a closet and wrap her baby boy in coziness and warmth every hour, if she wants, for a whole week and then some.

and finally… i’ll confess to you that after jaimie registered at “babies-r-us” a couple of weeks ago and told me about the amazing-does-everything-transformer-stroller she’d chosen there, two thoughts ran parallel races through my head: “great choice, honey!” and “oh Lord, how will we ever be able to do this for her???”  and it never once occurred to me that the biggest and last present sitting near the wall could have been hiding exactly that.  but it was, and through my tears i thanked leona and janice and yes, the Lord Himself for once again answering a never-spoken prayer that had weighed so heavy on my heart.

if you’re reading this and had any part in welcoming jayden on saturday, you have my grateful thanks.  and that goes especially to the fab four smiling here:  mom, kellie, karen, and leona.  y’all, there’s room for you on my posse  anytime. 

 

little cowboys and big earthquakes

here in the comfort of my little house i’m putting the finishing touches on a warm, cozy quilt for my precious grandson, Jayden, soon to be born to his dear mom and dad in a state-of-the-art birthing center with his loving, supportive, healthy family planning to gather and cheer him as he comes.  and i praise God for this. 

at the same time, my television is tuned to CNN where i’m watching an american doctor begging anyone standing in the nearby rubble of a haitian hospital if they can scrounge some antibiotics for the 15 day old baby he holds in his arms, wounded in this unthinkable earthquake disaster.

the numbers are so staggering it would be easy to numb myself to it all and turn off the television with a sigh and a click of the remote button.  but this precious baby makes it so terribly personal that i just can’t.

i feel so helpless, so spoiled.  so comfortable.  and so uncomfortable just talking about it.  we’ve just lived through the first week of this year grieving with dear friends and their grieving family ~ i simply can’t wrap my head around what tens or hundreds of thousands of grieving, desperate families must be like.

Lord, what to do?  what, really, to do???

 

no room for not yets.

my cousin anne and i spent new year’s afternoon sorting my late grandma’s things out of my aunt’s garage.   a box of memories came home with me ~ random little things that mean nothing to anyone else, probably, but have always said “grandma” to me… her sewing thimble, her choir boy Christmas candles and their now-tilting candle lampost, and the tiny silver magnifying glass i long-ago loved to peer through from her top desk drawer.  things like that.

i didn’t take anything useful or practical ~ well, other than grandma’s orange peeler.  i guess that’s practical.  but among the stacks and boxes there were dozens of “when the next person in our family gets old we might need these”  left behind that would probably have come in handy one day ~ some day.

     ”i don’t have room for not yets,“

i told my aunt.  and it’s true, i don’t.

it’s interesting, though, that despite tossing those words out almost thoughtlessly they’ve stuck themselves back into my thoughts as i ponder this brand-new year.

january 2 brought the ringing of the telephone and the tragic news of an unexpected, untimely death of a young man who should still at this moment be with his wife and baby son if any of us had our way.  as the mother of one expectant mommy and two happily married young wives that news struck wayyy too close to home, besides the grief we share for our heartbroken friends.

not exactly the happy new year anybody expected, i can tell you that.  and it meant a week of pushing away all the sad, foreboding, unlikely ”what if’s” that events like this conjur up and those pesky, introspective broodings about whether we can take a deep breath and anticipate the happy part again~ or not ~ as we step further into the new year.

and then it occurred to me that “i don’t have room for not yets” is far more a statement about choosing to trust and refusing to fear than it is about shelves and boxes and enough storage space for nostalgia in my garage.

so i’m going with that.  and if it’s useful, i’m happy to share. 

 

and that’s a wrap. (my Christmas letter, 2009)

Once again, dear Everyone,                                                                                                 

      … we’re coming on Christmas.  Finally.  If you live out of state from us here in Washington you may not know what a season it’s been ~ if you do live here you couldn’t have missed it.  Not the stuff of warm holiday memories, that’s for sure.  Heartless gunfire.  Horrible tragedy. Hushed hospital vigils.  The blue lights shining in my windows this season are there to honor the public servants who work so hard to protect us and to remember the seven police officers suddenly lost or wounded at the hands of vicious, violent, angry men.  The first killer now lives paralyzed from an officer’s bullet; the second and third no longer live at all.

Between one unthinkable morning and the suspect’s capture – nearly two whole days – I kept one nervous eye on the news updates flashing across the T.V. screen, wondering where in the city this madman was hiding and if he was gearing up to strike again.  The news media was given only tiny slices of information but I had to believe he was leaving signs and clues for his trackers to find and follow. Only with the murderer bravely taken down was the public given a rare peek into the world of undercover surveillance, and we watched, amazed, at the “random” collection of people and scraps and footprints all meticulously gathered and strung to search for him until he was found.  Until every dot was connected not one sign was ignored and not one clue was left unexamined. And at last the city was given a fragile gift of peace…

As you can guess by now I have more to say about that, but first I’ll catch you up on our year:

Bellevue City Hall, fifth floor.  Steve still marvels at where he’s come in 18 months, so grateful he sits among a group of fellow surveyors who make the workplace a pleasure and not a chore.  And the cutting-edge computer tools right at his fingertips are kind of fun, too.  Weeks in the city are balanced with weekends in the wilderness, including another St. Helens summit and three days spelunking among underground caves near California’s Mt. Lassen.  Steve and his neurologist still hope to find the perfect tweak for his seizure meds ~ just one seizure a year is a huge step forward but he’d love to land, once and for all, behind the wheel.  Winter days he keeps one eye on the webcam at Stevens Pass ~ and all summer long it’s the weekend mountain forecast.  Steve’s got himself a handheld GPS now, too ~ and he’s discovered the ‘sport’ of ‘geo-caching’.  He finds those techno-treasure-boxes in the most unlikely places!

Asher-the-Adorable white lab pup who loved his way deep into Kellie and Tyler’s hearts last year weighs in now at a mere 105 lbs. !!! and none of us can imagine life without him.  But I think they’d tell you that once the housing market opens up more space would be a welcome thing.  T. Anthony Sholdt Couture Bridal Jewelry is growing strong, even through this tough economy, thank the Lord!  If you’ve got diamonds in your future I happily recommend Tyler’s thoughtful, creative, sophisticated designs.  Canlis Restaurant just promoted Kellie to Operations Director, opening up fun new administrative adventures and the always-fascinating challenges of helping to manage a true culinary icon in the Seattle market.  Can I just say again how blessed  I am by these two?  Because it’s way more about who they are in this world than what they so capably do, impressed as I continually am by that. 

Which goes double, by the way, for Josh and Jaimie Bresler, who were handed the unexpected prospect of a youth pastor position wayyy down in Texas during the busy weeks ahead of their fun and unforgettable wedding on April 18th.  Let me tell you right here this is one grateful mom (of two!) who thanks God continually for so miraculously opening up an oh, so-much-better fit at Evergreen Community Church, right here in nearby Bothell.  Those lucky students have been given a sweet gift in ‘JLBx2’, and we’ve got a sweet gift on the way, too. Jaimie and Josh are getting ready to welcome our first grandchild into the world!  So we’re all eagerly praying for the safe, healthy, uneventful arrival of Jayden Layne Bresler, due to make his entrance in early March.  For now he’s growing right on schedule behind Jaimie’s green or black Starbucks apron, while she and Josh create his cowboy nursery out in Duvall. 

I say it every year, but every year it’s more and more true ~ our parents never cease to amaze me.  Dad will be 81 in February, and despite intense back pain and numbing feet he never gives in to giving up.  We’re praying that recent-and-so-far-successful epidural injections will give Dad the freedom to keep climbing around the Legacy’s decks this year.  And you’d never guess today that Mom shattered her kneecap and broke her wrist in June!  Her courage and determination surprised everyone in the wake of such a devastating injury, and I know without a doubt the Lord granted both Mom and Dad strength far beyond their own to get through that ordeal.  Lou, at nearly 80, snickers that he still gets ‘carded’ when he asks for senior discounts!  He still manages the forest hillside surrounding his Anacortes home, got himself a deer and  an elk this fall, and has turned himself into quite the chef at the end of the day!  I’m so, so thankful our children and grandchildren have these lives as their heritage.

And then there’s me, the wife-of-the-skier, mom-of-the-daughters, up-and-coming grandma-of-the-boy, taker-of-the-pictures, lover-of-the-lab, quilter-of-the-fabric, and as of this past season rookie-of-the-Seattle-Mariners-guest-services-team who’d love to find her place in their front office.  For my birthday this fall Steve swept the ratings with news that next fall we can finally, actually enjoy our first and long awaited European experience!  So nowadays you’ll find me at my late-night computer e-chatting with folk in charming, surreal-but-real places like “Vaison de Romaine” and “Positano” and “Gimmewald”.  I’ve even found a new friend, Diana, whose B&B sits just around the corner from the Vatican in Rome!  If you’re so inclined you can keep up with me through the year here at my blog.  It will be no surprise to you to find lots and lots of words here.  Hopefully worth your time. 

 … At breakfast the other morning I opened my Bible to chapter two in the Gospel of Matthew and joined a determined group of foreign dignitaries from a far eastern kingdom in their long, tedious search for a newborn King.  His birth had been heralded in their night skies by a brilliant and unmistakable clue: a star moving through the heavens toward Bethlehem.  Somehow, from so far away, they knew He was to be born “King of the Jews”.  And that He was worthy not only of the gifts they carried, but of their worship.  It was a journey of great care, a search of risky perseverance that we all know and love: the “wise men” of the Nativity.

But reading it this time I was caught by a phrase I’ve seen a hundred times and never noticed before.  When Herod the Jewish ruler got word that the travelers arrived in Jerusalem asking, “Where is He who has been born King of the Jews?  For we have come to worship Him!” the verses tell us “Herod was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him.”   Think of that ~ thousands upon thousands of worried, confused, frightened people.  And why was everyone so troubled?  They were threatened, daily, by a vicious, violent, angry man.  A powerful man who would slaughter tiny, innocent citizens to wipe out the One he believed threatened that power and his twisted agenda.  He gathered his experts and abused a carefully orchestrated, lovingly given string of divine clues to attempt an overthrow of God’s sovereign, redemptive plan.  No silent night, no peace on earth anywhere there.  And it sounds eerily like present-day Seattle, or maybe the name of your own city or town.  I understand a little better now what it means to live in an entirely troubled city and that phrase makes my heart ache.  Because even without the nightmare of the past few weeks my own world is filled with story after story of lives unraveling, exploding and colliding with whoever happens to be standing nearby.  There really is trouble – everywhere – with no clear, safe path through it all to give our hearts peace.

But the travelers weren’t troubled.  Matthew tells us that God, almighty Father and Giver of the newborn King, had shown them a safe path through the trouble to Bethlehem to kneel before Jesus, the true and only Prince of Peace.  They heeded the clues.  They searched.  They found Him.  And in His presence they found not only deep, genuine peace, but great, great joy.  That, my friends, is why we call them “wise”.  May you and I be found among them.  And He who guarded the life of His Son will lead us, too, by another, wiser way.

 

and then it was Christmas.

 

charlie brown:  “isn’t there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about???” 

linus van pelt:  “sure, charlie brown.  i can tell you what Christmas is all about… lights, please?” 

“and there were, in the same country, shepherds, abiding in their fields,
keeping watch over their flocks by night 

when lo ~ 

the angel of the Lord came upon them,
and the glory of the Lord shone ’round about them,

and they were sore afraid.

and the angel said unto them,

‘fear not!’ 

‘for behold,

i bring you tidings of great joy
which shall be to all people … 

for unto you is born this day, in the city of david 

a Savior
which is Christ the Lord! 

and this shall be a sign unto you:
ye shall find the Babe wrapped in swaddling clothes,
lying in a manger.

suddenly there was with the angel
a multitude of the heavenly host

praising God, and saying:

‘glory to God in the highest!
 and on earth, peace … good will toward men!’

…. that’s what Christmas is all about, charlie brown.”

 

thanks, linus.  now Christmas is coming. 

 

blue lights in my window

last sunday the telephone rang at my house, hurling news and heartache into an otherwise mellow afternoon.  the kind of news that numbs you and locks your gaze on the television screen while you try to wrap your head around what you’re hearing.

early that morning my sister-in-law had just dropped a family friend off at her college dorm and driven nearby a south tacoma coffee shop.  suddenly she found her car alongside multiple police officers, guns drawn and on high alert.  and somewhere between curious and alarmed she quickly pulled onto the freeway to head north toward seattle and home.

only when her husband called with the late-breaking news he’d just picked up did leona realize how narrowly she’d missed witnessing a horrific nightmare that began with the cold-blooded slaughter of four honorable public servants and ended early this morning when the suspect himself was finally taken down and killed.

i confess i have rarely juggled so many opposing emotions as i did hearing the final encounter described today:  the incredible relief that comes in knowing something is finally over … a deep, rumbling rage at the senseless loss of four precious lives … a heavy sadness over a tragic, wasted life … concern for the brave young officer who never expected to find a fugitive, who will be simultaneously hailed a hero and marked a villian by two colliding cultures in our world.  all of those feelings in a single moment.

i know i wasn’t alone.  the radio waves were flooded with callers who represented each and every one of those battling perspectives.  in light of that, then, what does a meaningful response look like?

first and always we can pray.  the arm of the Lord is plenty long to wrap around a broken heart.  there are trust funds set up for the fallen officers’ children ~ a wonderful idea.  but they live in tacoma, fifty miles away.  there will be investigations and legislation coming that we can pray will better protect the ones who protect us.  that’s good.

and then yesterday a radio talk-show host suggested that every single home consider displaying blue lights in the window as a statement of support for our police departments.  there are blue lights in my window tonight ~ a very small thing, i know, but it somehow helped.  it’s the least i can do and it won’t be the last.  anyone care to join me?