Category: this is me

ransomed from futility

The Lord’s faithfulness does not depend on me. What a mess I’d be in if that weren’t true!

Somehow, I eased out of my daily Word-drenched routine and into a more me-saturated schedule. I took my eyes off eternity and set my gaze much… lower. It wasn’t noticeable in bold-lettered ways, but the pages I’ve written in life the past week are missing the main character – the voice of the Writer, Narrator, and Hero – you could say I’m missing the red letters. It’s probably that weaselly Wormwood character doing his work in the trenches to make me think I’m “just fine” when I really need to deal with sin.

Today was the glorious antidote, though I shouldn’t be surprised.
Truth is a powerful serum. It gets inside the blood stream and awakens all the right sensors to alert the body of all the “false” that has taken over.

As I was reading Proverbs 1, Truth seemed to seep in and spread over all that sin that was crowding His story in my life. Specifically, the call of wisdom in verses 20-33. The call to turn from simple, foolish whims to deep, mysterious wisdom seems an easy sell (who wants to be simple and foolish?). But, as I read the words of the wayward, I realized that wisdom would mean the pages of my life would be filled to full with red letters – those would be the words I breathed in and lived out.

In 2 Timothy 3, Paul writes about how things will run amuck in the last days – about people who will be completely conformed to the world and calling others to join them. In his caution, “Avoid such people” (v. 5), he explains that they are “burdened with sins and have been led astray by passions, always learning and never able to arrive at a knowledge of the truth” (v. 6 -7).

What maddening futility! To always learn and never arrive at a knowledge of the truth – this sounds like what gives a scientist the “mad” prefix. And what joy that we’ve been rescued from futility!

…knowing that you were ransomed from the futile ways inherited from your forefathers, not with perishable things such as silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, like that of a lamb without blemish or spot. He was foreknown before the foundation of the world but was made manifest in the last times for the sake of you who through him are believers in God, who raised him from the dead and gave him glory, so that your faith and hope are in God.
(1 Peter 1:17-21 ESV)

Today, I am sad for my wandering.
Today, I am amazed that God allows me to learn and arrive at a knowledge of the Truth through the work of Christ.
Today, I am blessed by the call to wisdom and for ears to hear.
Today, I know I can dwell secure, without dread of disaster.

but whoever listens to me will dwell secure
and will be at ease, without dread of disaster.”
(Proverbs 1:32-33 ESV)

Because when I am faithless, the Lord is faithful.

Posted on by Caroline 1

it was 1994

“… and then you put your legs up like this and be careful because my legs will swing around really fast. Now, put your knees up, balance, and jump.”

I was transported to my nine-year-old self in the middle of this manic Monday as Meredith swung upside down from the metal bar on the swing set. She took the tone of teacher as she swung with the seriousness of a backyard gold medalist.

I know that seriousness well. My grandpa knew it, too. My birthday gift was unlike any other 9-year-old I knew. It wouldn’t fit inside a gift bag and you can’t find one at a store. It was a custom-made, hand-crafted balance beam with a limited edition, special carpet cover.

It was beautiful and it sat in our backyard where I was Dominique Moceanu or Kerri Strug on summer afternoons. My performance always decided whether we got the gold or the silver medal. The air hung thick with pressure (and good Iowa summer heat) and the beam was more than inches off the grass. It felt like miles.

I positioned my socked toe in front and stretched my arms up high (everyone knew the judges gave points for style and I never wanted to lose any – that was the easy part). I twirled, jumped, steadied, and then positioned myself for the dismount. The dismount decided everything – everyone knew that, even my dad. The question would pound in my head through the whole backyard routine, “Can I stick the dismount?”

I would back up to the very edge of the beam and then start my swirling combination toward the other end, where I would flip end over end (in my mind) and always land with two feet nestled into the Iowa grass.

My arms would erupt from my sides and I would proudly stick out my chest, acknowledging the audience of trees and cattle and cats on all sides.

It was 1994 and I just clenched the victory with that landing in my stocking feet.
And it felt good.

Posted on by Caroline 0

don’t tell the farmer or the owner of the mansion

A real runner would have a running buddy and wear a watch and map a route and follow a strict training schedule and beat a personal best. But, I’m not a real runner.

Somewhere around 6:30 pm tonight (to top off a beautiful day of wonderful things), I laced up the Brooks my generous Pops gave me when I got back from Honduras last June. Somehow, it seemed fitting that these same shoes would accompany me today when I set my sights on 10.5 miles.

I had a plan, kind of. Not being completely familiar with Ames (and knowing my tendency to detour), I wrote out reminders on my hand of where to turn and street signs to remember.

I won’t say I was excited, but I will say I was determined.

Right around mile 4.5 (give or take), I was wishing I had more written on my hand. I knew I meant to follow a river, but didn’t remember on which side. I spotted a bridge over the river and a forest beyond. Based completely on the aesthetic (and not at all on the yellow signs surrounding the bridge that seemed a bit superfluous), I decided to cross over.

The trails were magic and I was mesmerized. I kept giggling to myself that I’d found such a gem – curving around, climbing up, and carrying me around loop-de-loops under the thick, green forest cover. I was in the movie Bambi and Lion King and Robin Hood all at once and running with the perfect amount of breeze at my back.

And, then the trail looped and curved and … ended in a field. No bridge, no road – just field and field and field as far as I could see. This just sent me into a more delirious state of giggles because not an ounce in me wanted to turn around. I reasoned that all fields must border a road at some point – I farmed with my uncle, you see, so I know these things.

I carefully directed my path between the wee rows of soybeans and curved along the edge of the field, noting the distance between the rows. All I could think about was my Uncle Craig, so I took mental pictures to share what I project to be the above average yields in central Iowa.

Suddenly, I realized that (the way farmers use technology these days) there might be some sort of satellite camera monitoring the fields. I wondered if I looked like a crop scout or maybe a spy. I wanted to let the satellites know my good intentions, so I started removing the dead limbs from the soybean rows. Just so you know, Mr. Farmer, you have some dead limb problems and I did what I could but you might need to bring your burly son out to get the big ones. Also, Mr. Farmer, there were some large rocks that might cause you problems – just in case your satellite didn’t pick that up. Also, Mr. Farmer, there is a family of deer that seem very comfortable on your property. I’m just saying.

Somewhere, in the middle of that field, I thought, “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

But, I kept running. I decided the treeline would be a good place because there was either a river or a creek or (hopefully) a road somewhere beyond it. What there wasn’t was a path.

I high-kneed it through what might have been poison ivy and happened upon what was once a creekbed. I ran along the creekbed over the deserted houses of beavers and the former hideouts of foxes. I realized two things at this point: I could get attacked by a wolf and/or shot by a suspicious farmer. Somehow, laughing still seemed the best response.

Running, running, running.

I finally spotted something very un-foresty just above the treeline and thought, “This will be awkward, but it might save my life.” I planned to run up to the old farmhouse in the middle of nowhere (which is where I was SURE I was), knock on the front door of Farmer Joe and Wife Edith and say, “I know this sounds crazy, but I got lost running through the back of your property and I just wanted to let you know I’m not trespassing. And also, could you point me in the direction of Ames?”

I had practiced interrupting their nightly tea and the prime-time cable feature, but I was completely unprepared for what appeared when I finally topped the ravine: a mansion. That’s right. I was smack dab in the backyard of Ken and Barbie’s dream home. I ran, stuttered, and then decided knocking on a mansion’s door to let them know I wasn’t trespassing was not a good idea. I tried to put my best “young-girl-lost-in-the-wilderness-don’t-hold-it-against-me” look on my face and made a beeline for what sounded like traffic.

Once I hit that highway, I knew I would live. No farmer would shoot me and no millionaire would sue me now. I meandered my way back to the little city I call home and every other racing step was accompanied with laughter.

This would never happen to a real runner. But, I am not a real runner.

As it turns out, I am someone who can run 13.36 miles unintentionally – trespassing through multiple properties and finding it the most amusing end to a most wonderful day.

Posted on by Caroline 10

do you feel salvation in your fingertips?

Listen diligently to me, and eat what is good,
and delight yourself in rich food.
Incline your ear, and come to me;
hear, that your soul may live
and I will make for you an everlasting covenant,
my steadfast, sure love for David.
Isaiah 55:2-3

Oh, the thousands of times I have not listened. And the thousands on top of those thousands that I have lacked diligence.

And, oh, the rotten food I have eaten as a result.

Listen.
Listen diligently.

These words dripped like the sweet sunshine that rushed to meet me in mid-afternoon – God’s reminder that delight always waits on the other side of diligent listening. His invitation hovers patient, woven through my schedule and rests the right kind of heavy on my heart.

“Child, if you just incline your ear and come to me… delight is on the other side and inside my words.”

Listen. And I will eat what is good, I will delight in rich food, my soul will live and I will enjoy an everlasting covenant.

On this side of the life/death/resurrection of Jesus Christ, these sweet words mean salvation. It means joyful abundance in the depraved, daily trenches of our days. It means being satisfied (Psalm 63) in a way the best home-cooked meal will always fail to do. It means tasting and seeing that He is good (Psalm 34:8). It means feeling life leap in our souls and it means experiencing a love with the certainty of an everlasting, covenant promise.

It means pushing myself back from the table of my rotten concoctions and trusting that delight will be on the other side of diligent listening.
It means stretching out my arms and feeling salvation in my fingertips.

 

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 0

the chase

Isn’t it funny how little ones love to have someone run after them? Very few kids turn down the chance to be caught and smothered in hugs and giggles. They may act like they want to escape, but they can’t hide their excitement about being wrapped up at the end of the chase.

Oh, the chase!
Don’t we love it when someone seeks us out to show us love – when someone chases us down just to collapse with us into giggles?

Today, I was babysitting a little one with a fever and I couldn’t tell if his laughter was delirious or if he just loved the game that much. When we weren’t snuggling or singing, I would hide behind the coffee table and say, “I’m… gonna… get… you!” When my head appeared from whatever direction, he would burst into a fit of giggles that I couldn’t resist.

I would join in and admire his dimples.

And then we’d do it all over again.

Posted on by Caroline 4

I almost forgot: the importance of clamará

I was standing between pews of neat rows and English words hung in the air above my head. I was supposed to sing along after the guitar solo opened the song, “Inside Out.” I was supposed to be thinking of God’s attributes. I wasn’t doing either of those things. I was thinking about the word, “clamará” and the first time I heard this melody.

Panic froze my praise. I grasped for the words – the right words – to fill in the space between me and the sky. I wanted just the right words to put my heart’s love to song and English wouldn’t do. The drums swelled and voices harmonized and I stood unable to sing.

I tried to read the words on the screen and translate, but the order is all wrong in English. The phrases are all out of place and the r’s are dull.

I closed my eyes and my heart opened up.

Dios eterno, tu luz por siempre brillará
y tu gloria incomparable sin final
el clamor de mi ser es contigo estar
desde mi interior, mi alma clamará

Every word climbed on top of the next, an expression in process – a verb in past, present, and future tense all rolled into one presentation of praise to my Lord. The word, “clamar” means “to cry out” and I love to picture my soul crying out in a way that rolls over into future tense. In Spanish, the chorus reads,

“God Eternal, your light for always shines/and will shine,
and your uncomparable glory has no end.
The cry of my being is to be with you
From my innermost, my soul cries/and will cry out”

I’m starting to think the notion of “heart language” or “native tongue” can mean many things and sound many different ways. This morning, singing praise to my Savior meant communion behind closed eyes with the Lord in a second language that seemed to better explain the verb tenses of my soul.

A little waterfall followed my communion, but I meant that to be praise as well. I knew the Lord would understand. He speaks all languages and knows the importance of clamará and remembers the events that make it mammoth in my understanding of who He is. He knows each young lady who pushed me to a more honest “clamará” in Tegucigalpa as I desperately wanted to know, love, and delight in Him so that they would, too. He understands the unspeakable desires in my heart that won’t ever find an outlet in letters. He knows my delight is and will always be found in knowing Him, finding out what pleases Him, and delighting to do those things.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 4

my car smells like a freshly showered man

I originally ventured into the automotive section at Walmart because my grandpa told me that a product called, “automotive goop” would remedy the flappy piece of fabric hanging from the door of my car. Of course, he told me to go to O’Reilly’s, but I didn’t have anything else to pick up at an Auto Parts store, so I opted to make it one of many things I could accomplish in one place (ever the efficient go-getter).

Somehow, after wandering the aisles for several minutes and not finding this “goop” product (and, frankly, questioning the existence of such a product), I came to a familiar conclusion: my time in the automotive section would not be wasted. And that’s when I saw the air fresheners. I’ve actually been meaning to pick up air freshener for my car (I had a little episode with ham and bean soup and another with coffee), but it was never at the top of my list.

The number of scents was overwhelming: fresh linen, citrus sunshine, new car scent, alpine meadow, summer breeze. I got impatient and went with “titanium rain.” I thought – who could go wrong with rain scent? I love rain!

Well, turns out, they should have called it, “a mix between old spice and irish spring that smells like a freshly showered man.”

The thriftress in me refuses to choose another scent and waste $2.53, so it’ll just be another thing that brings out the gauche in me. Just so you know, if you see me driving eddie (my little honda) wafting in the fresh air with all the windows down, it’s to balance out the smell of a freshly showered man inside my car.

Come on and laugh with me, will you?

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

And if you’re wondering, I ended up finding the “goop” product at Hobby Lobby when I was looking for something else and have since handy-manned that flappy fabric problem like a pro. 

Posted on by Caroline 0

I was never brilliant

It’s true. I was always that girl who grew up on a farm and knew how to work hard, but I was never brilliant.

In high school, I campaigned enough to be President of all the right groups and practiced enough to make first chair trumpet. I played enough to letter in sports and performed enough to be cast as lead roles in musicals. I studied enough to make the Honor Roll and tested high enough to opt out of finals.

I was smart enough, but I was never brilliant.

In college, I earned enough good grades to be invited into the Pew Society and find my name on the Dean’s List. I was active enough in the community to annoy my friends with my schedule and passionate enough about missions to let it consume much of my time.

I was smart enough, but I was never brilliant.

I don’t mention these things to puff myself up, actually I’m about to do the opposite. As I consider the reasons why I haven’t pursued further study, I discovered a very twisted kind of pride. See, because I was not a child prodigy, I tried not to measure myself against brilliance. I read and thought and wrote and digested as much knowledge as I could get my hands on, but I didn’t want anyone to test me on it. I wanted to be an expert in areas I could handpick (and self-declare my expert status).

Ugh. This is ugly.

It didn’t matter that the topics I raised for discussion weren’t as interesting or as important to the people at the table (or that I rarely raised questions about their area of expertise), what mattered was finding that sweet spot where my “smart enough” looked pretty good.

I remember thinking, “Now, that’s brilliance,” as I listened to visting speakers and read various authors. I’ve always said that a dream of mine is to sit with C.S. Lewis, Corrie Ten Boom, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and G.K. Chesterton in a musty, old library. That’s a room full of brilliance, right there. But, I wonder if I would have chosen to hang out with those folks, had they been on my campus. I wonder how I would respond to their rebuke or their questions.

I was never brilliant, but I was comfortable thinking I could be the best of mediocre.

I wonder what Dietrich Bonhoeffer would say to that.

Posted on by Caroline 5

the fear that brings wisdom

Okay, it’s about to get awkward and honest. Well, more honest than awkward (I do enough of that in real life) but you might feel awkward reading my latest loop-de-loop that’s got me feeling exposed.

Did I ever tell you I’m stubborn? Well, I am. And I can blame it on Nichols nature or I can blame it on the human condition or I can take full credit for that thing in me that resists when people offer to help carry an obviously too-heavy load. Yep, I’m stubborn. And I’m pretty accustomed to the good and bad situations I get into because of it.

Recently, though, I’ve been surprised.
I never thought my stubbornness would keep me fearful or help me avoid risk or support “playing it safe.” All those things seem like what I use stubbornness to fight against nearly every day. I always thought stubbornness was something I could use to my advantage – to push through when things were hard or didn’t make sense. My knowledge of the Lord led me straight into a very stubborn belief that, in any situation, I can “grin and bear it.” I thought stubbornness was almost holy, I guess.

And here’s where it gets honest. 

I’m afraid of the GRE.
I’m nervous that I can’t kick it in grad school.
I’m worried I might choose a specialized field that doesn’t translate practically to serving real people.
I hate the thought of looking foolish in a classroom.
I fear the pride of another degree.

And I guess a combination of the above is what led me to steer clear of institutionalized higher learning after I graduated in 2007. I actually researched graduate programs that didn’t require the GRE and have since looked for “continuing education” programs that don’t emphasize a degree. That’s how stubborn I was about my fears.

And I was missing out.

When Christ promised to bring life in abundance, he did not call everyone to the same position or profession. He is big enough to be abundant in the life of a lawyer and big enough to be abundant in the life of a shepherd. I got so stubborn holding onto Him being “big enough to be abundant” while I fill my schedule with part-time work that I refused to think there were other ways I could use/grow my gifts. This was my excuse on the surface for all those other stubborn reasons I wasn’t sharing.

“I know God will use me wherever I am, as long as I’m willing to be used.”

That little bit of self-talk has been on replay since I came back to the States on a mad hunt for a job to pay off my school debt. It kicked up into high chipmunk-style gear when I started working for my uncle on the farm and then when I accepted two part-time jobs in Ames. I just kept saying, I’ve just got to be willing. I still believe it’s true, but I also believe it allowed me to hide. It was Jim Elliott who said, “Wherever you are, be all there.” And to that I say, amen! But, I would add that we must always have a heart ready to do something else – something that might throw our fears out into the light and challenge our stubborn resolve.

The flip side of my willingness has hit me like a bucket of cold water in the past couple days. Am I willing to release my stubbornness and face my fears about doing something else? Am I willing to say that all the closed doors for full-time employment mean an open door for more learning? Am I willing to say “God is big enough to be abundant” if I go back to school?

Some fear is not good. And this is that kind of fear for me.

I think I’ll pray for the kind of fear that ends up being worth wisdom. And then I’ll pray for the courage to do what that wisdom reveals.

“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom,” Proverbs 9:10

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 3

way more than sometimes

I’m so glad Paul admitted he never “made it.”

I mean, what a guy, right? He learned to be content in any circumstance – and he didn’t live a quiet life in the Midwest either. I mean, jail, shipwrecks, and undercover operations were just another day in the office for this man. Transformed from Christian killer to Christian by the power of Christ, Paul’s theological understanding came straight from the Lord. Forget commentaries, the man was God’s chosen tool to give us the bulk of the New Testament that we read today. An encouragement to churches spread across the known world at that time, Paul was very clear in a letter to the Philippians,

Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. (Philippians 3:12)

And I’m so glad he “never made it.” If he had, all my failures in all my petty circumstances would feel much more pitiful. As I try to match his efforts to “take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold” of me, I struggle with the pressing on.

His admonishment to the church that precipitated this assurance was,

Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith—that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead.
(Philippians 3:8-11 ESV)

Really, Paul?
You think you can know God and the power of his resurrection? You’re willing to share in his sufferings and even die?
You are clearly better at this “Christian life” thing than I am.

And just when he knew they’d put that letter down in defeat – certain they’d never be able to attain that kind of faith –  Paul let them know he didn’t have it all together.

And, oh! Thank goodness for that.

I’ve been sorting through some things lately – pretty weighty things – and I’m aware that sometimes I’m driven by fear and that sometimes I promote myself and that sometimes I hide behind pride and that sometimes I am selfish.

Let’s be honest, it’s way more than sometimes. My failure doesn’t mean I’m not in the same race, pressing on with Paul toward the One who calls me, redeems me, and strengthens me to run for what will bring most joy.

 I can still
let LOVE fly like CrAzY
even when it seem like I’m not qualified

Posted on by Caroline 6