Great Hope

For whatever reason, I get the opportunity to do life with some amazing women. I'm not sure how I happened upon this hand, but I am increasingly aware of the unmerited gift that it is to glean from the wisdom of women of all ages, backgrounds, and experiences. Their unique stories continually make me better, while their joy gives me great hope, and their silliness encourages my own -- which I'm convinced is always a good thing.

On Tuesday nights, I meet with an assortment of gals for a couple of hours each week. While girls have come and gone from the group over the years, each leaving their special imprint of the Christ in them on all of us, for the past several months, we have come to a place of consistency among those that are attending. There are probably around ten of us that are faithful to come and although we are all around the same age range, give or take five years or so, we are vastly different. Married, single, pregnant, new moms, single moms, heartbroken, frustrated, peaceful, content, satisfied and dissatisfied in current jobs -- we run the spectrum.

The purpose of our Tuesday night time together has always been to open the Bible together, and allow the words to settle on us and hopefully spark some reflection and transformation. Sometimes this happens just though reading a specific passage aloud, but often it's through each other's perspectives and experiences that we are challenged to become more like the women God perhaps originally intended.

A few weeks ago we found ourselves at the beginning of 1 Peter, and I had the responsibility of facilitating that week as we waded through Peter's words in chapter one. My beautifully vibrant friend, Brandy, had challenged us to read 1 Peter by asking ourselves "how do the verses give us direction in our role as Christ following women?" So as I sat down that Tuesday afternoon to prepare for the evening with that question running through my mind, God very kindly met me and directed my thoughts.

A couple of the verses that would not quit were verses 3 and 4 excerpted below:

"...He has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade..."

Replaying these verses in my mind as I sat at the table with pen in hand and thinking through what those words meant for me as a woman and also for the amazing girls in my group, my thoughts interestingly began considering fears. Some are fears that are mine personally, while others are more specific to girls in my group. Regardless of who they belong to, if you are a woman especially, perhaps what came out of me through the nudging of God's spirit will resound with you too. What follows is what I scrawled out as fast as my fine point, purple Sharpie would write:

If I believe 1 Peter 1:3-4 is truth, then, as a woman, I have everything I need in Christ and I have GREAT hope -- no matter what.

No matter if...

• my heart is broken
• I never marry
• I marry a deceptive man
• I feel alone
• someone close to me dies
• I never have my own children
• my children suffer
• my husband is unkind
• I feel labeled and branded
• I remain where I am
• I go to the ends of the earth
• I struggle financially
• my family remains in bondage
• I lose my health
• I gain weight
• my beauty is assaulted
• I'm considered ordinary by strangers
• I'm considered ordinary by those close
• I remain a slave to the opinions of others
• no one notices my intelligence
• no one notices my humor
• no one notices my hard work
• I struggle hard the entire time I walk this earth
• Christ bids me come and die...

No matter what it is we are fearful of occurring on this side of eternity, as Christ followers, we have GREAT hope. We just do. An inheritance that will never perish, spoil, or fade unlike most of the things we cling to so tightly.

Let us be women with open hands causing fear to lose its sneaky grip and walking boldly and securely towards Christ's gracious right hand and his eternal pleasures. And perhaps our new, confident strut will cause some of the women in our lives to take notice, cast off their own fear, and come with us. I really cannot think of a better, more exciting girl road trip...

Cling to the great hope, it will not disappoint. It just won't.

As I read this over my girl posse that Tuesday night, I knew I could not claim any of the above revelation as my own wit or reason. God gave it to me, but the cool thing was, he granted it to me through my relationships with other girls just trying to figure out how to live Christ well and with authenticity. So thank you to Kristin, Brandy, Lauren, Ashley, Andrea, Lindsay, Liz, Kristen, Jessica, and the countless other women who have chosen to walk towards Christ with us on Tuesday nights over the years. Each of you sharpen me in ways that make me laugh, that sometimes mercifully wound, but that make me little by little more like Christ. Your presence in my life reminds me that a beautiful exchange occurs when I take the risk to come and die -- I get to truly live.

Clinging to the GREAT hope that refuses to disappoint and praying for your grip as well...

I mean, what if?

Sliver of New

I live in the temporal

In a physical reality

And yet my soul senses his sovereignty.

When my actions are quieted

And my heart tuned to grace

I feel the orchestration of eternity.

Perhaps, I even hear it sometimes.

So what appears commonplace

Is in essence a sliver of redemption.

Reconciliation.

Wholeness.

Making all new.

And so I rejoice in both extraordinary and mundane.

For rich purpose inhabits both.

That we might have eyes to see the imminence of a new heaven and new earth in all things.

I mean, what if?

"Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth...He who was seated on the throne said, I am making everything new..."

Revelation 21:1,5

To Another

I belong to another.

To Christ.

The one my heart loves with limited sight.

Even in depravity and through my idols.

Even when I have no awareness of Him.

He saves me.

He saves me.

He saves me.

And his love is deep.

Inescapable.

His right hand holds me fast and I am thankful.

Thankful for his valiant protection.

For teaching me that in his presence alone resides the fullness of joy.

And fighting for me to grasp more of his glory with all of my life.

Through intense joy and severe pain, He is worth it.

He explains why I forget myself in grandeur,

And my carnal flesh longs for greatness.

His presence continually beckons and is alone worthy of all energy.

Of all fame.

Not me.

Not me.

Not me.

As I walk through life enclosed by skin,

Remind me of your steadfast hold. Your right hand.

And why it is there.

Because, while maddening, my heart will forget.

Let me be consumed by you.

More of you.

Grow yourself, dear Christ.

Grow your glory through me.

And your hope.

Establishing your work of my hands.

For yours is the kingdom

The power.

And the glory --

Forever.

I mean, what if?

"So, my brothers and sisters, you also died to the law through the body of Christ, that you might belong to another, to him who was raised from the dead, in order that we might bear fruit to God."

Romans 7:4

Known

"Before I formed you...I knew you..."

Jeremiah 1:5

He knows me well.  

He maps out the lines in the palm of my hand and traces them with eternity.

He instructs my freckles when to appear and hides them again with his seasons.

He paints my eyes from his infinite pallet and captivates them with creation.

He dictates the details of each vital breath and blankets me with his rest.

When my spirit is light and my step has kick -- He sees.

When my heart is moved by the sound of melodies -- He knows.

When my mind is numbed by my own selfishness -- He is not finished.

When my soul grieves deeply and despair encroaches -- He is not without purpose.

For He knows me well.

And set me apart.

And raised me up.

With much intention.

Be known.

Be really known.

Purpose resides there.

So does power.

And a glimpse of a love that never fails.

I mean, what if?

"But I have raised you up for this very purpose, that I might show you my power and that my name might be proclaimed in all the earth."

Exodus 9:16

Quotes

I love words. I love the challenge of putting them together in a way that inspires reaction. Consequently, those that do this well, often inspire me -- or at least their words do.

Yesterday, Jourdan, my organized roommate, was performing her quarterly note purging ceremony. I'm not exactly sure what elements this ceremony entails but it has something to do with her sifting through old notes and mail, keeping the items that are still meaningful, and tossing those that are no longer relevant. Then I think she performs a ritual trash dance and closes with the Sevenfold Amen while blowing a kiss to Jesus and lighting a candle for each note she sends packing...or something along those lines.

Anyway, at some point during the day, Jourdan emerged with a note I had written her probably about a year and a half ago. It had survived past note purgings and looked like it was going to stay in the "meaningful" stack. She handed it to me and said "Here is a note you left me a while back, it was a good one and I continue to keep it." To which the insecure, affirmation addicted self inside of me replied with something like, "Aren't they all good ones??!" Gaaaaahhhh. I am exhausting and am putting myself in timeout as I type.

When I took the note from her, I looked at the card, written on some old, personalized stationary, and as I opened it up, I remembered. Inside were words that were not my own, but a quote from Rob Bell that had caught my attention once upon a time.

It was late one weeknight, about 18-20 months ago. The roomies were already snoozing and I was reading a book and honestly just wanted to go to sleep. But the words I just read were resonating with me and making me think of Jourdan's situation at the time. So I found a card, grabbed one of my millions of beloved, colored, fine-point sharpies and scribbled out the quote in my asianesque print. Here is the card in it's entirety:

Read the quote below and thought of you:

"...life is messy. Gut wrenching. Risky. Things don't always turn out well. Sometimes they don't turn out at all. Sometimes everything falls apart and we wonder if there's any point to any of it. We're tempted to shut ourselves off, fortify the walls around our hearts, and forge ahead, promising ourselves that we will never open ourselves up like that again. But I have to believe that we can recover from anything. I have to believe that God can put anything - anyone - back together. I have to believe that the God Jesus invites us to trust is as good as he says he is. Loving. Forgiving. Merciful. Full of Grace."

Rob Bell

Praying you can believe Him a little more each day. Love you.

And that was the card. What is significant about this quote is not that I was so thoughtful to think of Jourdan during her pain because I am keenly aware that no goodness in me exists apart from Christ. At best, I am a self absorbed train wreck. What is cool though, is that God would remind me, through words His spirit prompted me to write down for someone else close to two years ago, who He really is.

When I scratched out that card late in the night, things were going well for me. I was working purposefully, involved in a healthy relationship, and walking confidently. Since then, much has changed. God challenged me with my own pain and doubt by taking away most of the "knowns" in my life. And during this period, I often found myself doubting his goodness. Or at least, his goodness to me.

Thankfully, I learned that His restoration is real. And while I don't know much else, I do know this. He absolutely brings recovery and He does put us back together -- from anything. From the darkest evil occuring to children in brothels worldwide to the numbing apathy induced by self absorption I encounter daily. He can rescue me. He can remind me of his goodness. He can make me ready to risk again. And while it may turn out messy and painful, I know this time around, it will not undo me.

Perhaps what struck me in Rob Bell's quote was the realness of it. The reality that life really is not for us. But God is. That little card reminded me how God planned for Jourdan and I, through our own experiences, to know him for ourselves a little more each day. Wow.

And He really is as good as He says He is. Even though my life in no way resembles our culture's formula for success. I know He is good. To you, but to me as well. Which is much of the battle.

Praying you, wherever this finds you, can believe Him for you a little more each day.

I mean, what if?

Found

He does not need me.  

Yet he chooses to pursue me.  

All of me.  

My heart.  

My mind.  

My being. 

He captivates.  

He takes hold.  

He never lets go.  

And a beautiful thing happens.  

In him, I begin to live.

To move.

To have my being.

All that I thought was lost, is not.

I am completely found.

And known.

And he allows me to be like him.

In his purity.

His compassion.

His love.

His justice.

His grace.

His laughter.

His pain.

His movement.

His mission.

And like the woman caught in adultery, 

He dusts me off,

Looks in my eyes,

and says "Now go, and sin no more."

And I finally begin to get it.

His grace crashes into me.  

Undeserved but finally accepted.

And all things are new.

And I begin to run well,

For I am learning the source of my breath.

Breathe deeply of grace. 

Run purposefully.

Found in him.

I mean, what if?

"For in Him we live and move and have our being..."

Acts 17:28

The Notorious Highland Park Clowns

Well hi there.  It certainly has been a while, and that is all my fault. This is a blog.  This is not an essay writing contest, a novel, a magazine, or even a final paper for a class.  Yet, perhaps I have been treating it as such.  While several ideas have gone through my mind to share over the last several months, the pressure I subtly place on myself to make my thoughts perfectly cohesive and/or inspiring made procrastination the most enticing choice.  Dumb.  I know. So to alleviate my self-induced pressure and use this forum as an appropriate form of simple expression, I will tell you a tale of some potentially notorious, Highland Park Clowns.

Earlier this evening, Jourdan, Kristen and I were driving through Highland Park back to our apartment in Dallas.  For those of you not familiar with the Dallas area, Highland Park is what I like to call Fancyland.  The homes are elaborate, the cars are shiny, and high-maintenance personal grooming is expected. Highland Park is about as diverse as Barbie, Ken, and their friends, minus the ethnic dolls. Honestly, it's an area of town I do not fully understand, but is fascinating nonetheless.  

As we drove down Lovers Lane, chatting randomly, we somehow got on the topic of clowns and their cars and I can't exactly recall how, but the conversation took a delightfully silly turn and somehow morphed into a scheme. At one point in our clown convo, Kristen asked what we imagined when we thought of a clown car.  The general consensus was an old model, VW bug type car, perhaps painted pink with all sorts of bright, flower decals.  Jourdan made the point that the horn would probably honk a tune like the Entertainer or some other circusy sounding song.  Kristen, said she imagined a red clown nose on the hood.  I asked if we could upgrade our clown car to a clown van, and have an old, pink, flowery VW bus complete with silly honk noises and a squeaky red nose.  They both agreed.  

As we were laughing about clowns and wondering how the stereotypical clown in our minds became, in fact, the stereotypical clown (I mean, who decided huge red, clown shoes were funny, and why is it only socially acceptable for clowns to wear them?), somewhere between those thoughts, Jourdan piped in with a great idea.  She said, "I keep laughing to myself, imagining the three of us dressed in full-on traditional clown gear while driving our VW clown van around Highland Park, making it our mission to bring some momentary joy through the squeak of our noses, a clever clown skit, or our multi-colored afro wigs."  She went on to say, "I'm trying to think of ways that we could pull this off in Highland Park where the majority of folks there would most likely perceive "clowning" as disruptive to their orderly neighborhood, but because we were not breaking any laws, could do nothing about it."  

So we began to laugh and plan ways to become the Notorious Highland Park Clowns.  Much of this scheme included driving our clown van slowly down the manicured neighborhood streets, looking for someone who needed some "happy", and cheering folks up with the squeak of our noses, the clown songs we would sing from our pink, VW, clown bus with the windows down and our colorful, synthetic, afros blowing in the breeze, and the way we would get out and run around our bus, chasing each other at stoplights while wearing our bright, polka dotted baggy clown suits. 

Although many in "Fancyland" may initially complain that we are disruptive and an eyesore and strive to send the clowns packing, we never break any laws, and consequently cannot be touched.  Our days of clowning continue happily in the pink VW bus as we bring some color to the HP, and eventually the pretty folks there begin to warm to us and perhaps even like us! 

If this whole plot were a movie however, of course there would have to be one character who is always trying to thwart our clown antics.  A fancy older lady perhaps, who is mortified to hear that her three handsome sons are falling in love with the three refreshingly unusual, clown girls.  But in the end, after the fancy mom tries to throw water on us, but to her frustration, realizes that only makes witches, not clowns, melt, the clown love prevails.  The three handsome sons marry the three delightful clowns in a lovely joint wedding planned by Jourdan. And in true clown fashion, the bridal bouquets were actually decoys for our super-soakers because everybody knows flowers that squirt water are hilarious :)

Oh, and the fancy mom finally comes to her senses after a heartfelt moment with the clowns, when we take off our makeup, wigs, and costumes and reveal our true identities.  She realizes that, in the end, she and the clown girls are not so different after all.  And she also, has a plastic nose - just not the red, clowny kind - but plastic nonetheless.  

So if you are ever driving through Highland Park, be on the lookout for a pink, VW clown bus with three afroed gals stopping every so often to clown on folks. It just might be those Notorious Highland Park Clowns...

I mean, what if?

"A cheerful look brings joy to the heart..."

Proverbs 15:30