Tag Archive | grace

New!

Sep6

“Mimi!  Look!  I have a Sophia the First book bag and lunch box and thermos.  I get to TAKE my lunch to Kindergarten.”

“You do?”

“Uh huh.  And Anna and Elsa folders.”

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I watch as she pulls out each new thing we’ve just bought for Kindergarten, excited and sharing what’s new.  She can hardly stand the excitement as she moves towards her new start.

 

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 “And this will be the girls bathroom and down this hall will be my room.”

 

She breathes deep and her eyes light up with each new thought and I know that look.  I had it not long ago myself when the husband and I walked through what would soon by our new home.  And while that decision did not come without our own version of pain, I know the healing that comes from moving into a new place for a new start.

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I slide behind the wheel and I thank God for moments of “new” and He takes that moment to remind me that He makes ALL things new.  And I’m humbled by all of the new that He’s giving us and pray that our excitement to tell of His great, life-giving, new creation kind of love will grow.  That we will be more excited to run and tell someone about that than we are about our new car, new shoes, new book bag…. new whatever.

May we never tire of telling our story of being a new creation in Christ…

 

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Day 3: Washed Away

Feb8

As I sit here and type, water’s falling from the sky. I know it’s washing the dirt off my car and the sidewalk and it’s fitting because I’m to the point in my own story when my sin being washed away in front of people gets mentioned.

It was April 5, 1992; my parents 12th Wedding Anniversary. Natalie and I were standing on old wooden floors, looking out into the pool of water, trying to decide who would go first. I won! Mr. Hayes, our Pastor and good family friend, was already in the water talking out to the congregation. He had been with us while we waited for Brittany to be physically born, so it made sense to me that he was there for me when I was being spiritually re-born. I walked down the steps and into the water, barely tall enough to be seen by the crowd below. I heard him talk about how my baptism was just an outward expression of my sins having been washed away when I asked Jesus into my heart. He talked about his immersing me into water was following the example of Christ when John the Baptist baptized Him. And then he put his hand over my mouth and nose, saying, “Having been made clean in the washing of sins by the Holy Spirit, I baptize you my sister, in the name of the Father and of the Son and the Holy Spirit.” And then he immersed me into the water. My feet slipped! And I came up grabbing the glass.

Good thing my salvation was in tack!  After Natalie had gone through the same thing (minus that whole feet slipping thing), we got dressed to go downstairs and dried our hair.  Then we went and sat on the front row of the church, by the organ, and waited for the Communion Service to begin.

It was a glorious day! Two lost souls had found Jesus and were baptized. What that meant in our church, I’m still not sure. Other than, I know it meant we were able to eat Communion with the cool kids.

When the service was over, we went home for a cook-out with our family and friends. Baptism Day, the washing away of my sins and joining the church, was a big deal!  In fact, people even brought presents in celebration of our decision.  My Uncle Dennis even brought us a giant box of Hardee’s Chocolate Chip Cookies.  When you’re six– that’s the best gift.  (When you’re 27 too.)  Maybe that’s why, to this day, I’m a sucker for Chocolate Chip Cookies.  That box of dough shows up in some of my favorite childhood memories.

As I sit here, continuing to listen to the rain, I’m finding myself missing the innocence of that Baptism Day. That day when I was certain my sins had been washed away and I was excited to tell someone else about it…

When Grace Sneaks In With A Face

Nov9
I hadn’t given it much thought until I got asked about it last night.  How had I previously written it off and not considered it?  Could I get beyond it if it turned out to be true?  And why on Earth was I dignifying any of it with this kind of physical response?  It doesn’t even matter, right?  Right?!?  I kept waking up all night feeling literally sick to my stomach as confusion and disappointment from the Enemy continued to close in on me.
 
Even as I sat at my desk today, my mind kept wandering as I thought about how much consideration this whole ordeal should even get from me.  Is that something you can just come right out and ask?  Does it matter?  Would it change things?  It’s not something you’d just bring up in casual conversation, right?  Right?!?  Or can you?!?
 
And then she snuck into my office, all smiles and glowing.  She who travels in humility and patience and joy.  We shared in celebration that, not only was it Friday, but it was a three day weekend too!  As crazy as this week had been, we weren’t sure it would get here.  And then she did it.  She spoke Truth with a ton of Grace and reminded me that when God said He could make all things new, He meant ALL things.  She was able to remind me that He is not the Author of confusion and fear.  And she encouraged me to take heart because it’s coming.  It won’t be my definition of “soon”; that’s been obvious in how slow it’s all been moving up until now.
 
So while my Newsfeed is blowing up with what people are thankful for on this ninth day of November, I am so thankful that sometimes Grace sneaks in with a face…

When Grace Begins to Fill the Cracks

Oct24

Note: the names have been changed to protect the innocent guilty ones needing to go unidentified.

I don’t know about you, but when the phone rings in the middle of the night—I automatically assume that something is terribly wrong; even when I was a kid.  My first question was always “who died?” when anyone would call our house after 9:00.  So, when my phone rang about 8:15pm—I just assumed it was someone looking to make a Cook-Out run or something.  I wasn’t ready for the news on the other end of the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”  I could hear the fear in the quiver of his voice.  “You need to come to the hospital.  It’s bad.  I don’t know if he’s gonna make it this time.”

“What? If who is going to make it?”  I was grabbing my keys and trying to make sense of the broken details.  It didn’t really matter who.  I heard it in his voice that I needed to come and come right now.

“Joseph.”  I almost dropped the phone.  “His little body.  I just,”

“I’m on the way.”

Joseph.  A competitor who rarely lost, but this was a battle he could have never trained for.  Yet, it looks like his opponent never stops practicing on his face.

I was in the ER sooner than I probably should have been able to arrive, but when that name shows up on my phone—I drop what I’m doing and go as fast as my car allows.

“Can we see him?”  I asked while he hugged me like, if he let go, it would only mean that this was all really happening.

“Two at a time.  It’s bad.”

“Go with me?”

He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and my heart sank as I considered what all of this could mean.  How on earth would we talk about God’s love and healing when the person who first taught this little man about God and the person who put him in this hospital bed are the same?

Black.  Blue.  Bruised.  Bleeding.  Bad.  Yes, it was really bad.  The foundation of his whole world was cracking.  His safety, his home life, his faith.  Our champ looked frail.  And small.  And my friend was right.  This was bad.  I didn’t have to find the right words to say to this little guy; he never woke up while we were there.  We stood there crying and praying and knowing.  Knowing that we felt certain how Joseph really got to this bed in the Emergency Room, despite the story being shared.

“There’s gotta be a special place in you know where for a parent who does this to their own kid.”

“Nope.  There’s room at the cross for them too, if they want it.  Jesus loves that parent and you the same.”

“Yeah, really good thing God loves us in ways we don’t deserve.  And that he doesn’t ask my opinion when it comes to how to handle people like those parents.”

What on earth were we gonna do?  How would he sit next to them in Sunday School next week?  How would I help him to teach this kid about forgiveness and a Heavenly Father when the word father probably made him scared for his life?  The foundation of his entire world is crumbling beneath him.  Lord, show us how to be there when Grace begins to fill the cracks…