Tag: Christ

no other shelter

I will run and not grow weary
I will walk and not grow faint
You will be my shelter
protection from the rain
and when the waters rise,
I’ll stand and sing Your name
(from Hallelujah by Preson Philips)

This morning, the Lord calls out to me, “Take shelter. But take shelter in Me alone.”

I nod my head in gratitude for the shelter God offers and then duck under the closest, flimsiest umbrella. I recognize the beauty and mystery and grace of a covering that shields from the (often self-inflicted) storm, but then stand anchored beneath my own shoddy shelter. Christ promises shelter, but He doesn’t promise it apart from Him. He is the shelter. No other covering will do.

Why do we so often cling to the promises of the Bible, ask the Lord to be faithful, demand He come through in our time of need without understanding where all those promises are revealed: under His shelter.

Ray LaMontagne (brilliant musician) aches out his song, “Shelter,” and every phrase sings broken. He sets up a desperate need for shelter in the midst of terrible relational storm and then presents his best offering: one another. It’s beautiful and my heart hurts for it to be true so Ray can find some resolve. But, in the end he stands under his own (beautifully written) flimsy umbrella, convincing himself that it is enough.

Adam and Eve, exposed by their sin and separated from the perfect relationship they had enjoyed with the Father, scrambled to find something to cover them – to protect them from the shame they’d brought on themselves.

They forgot who made them. In an instant, they forgot who loved them, walked with them, and cared for their every need. They ran from their provider and rigged up their own covering.

They ran from the only One who could shelter them, hold them, love them through the shame and provide a covering that would satisfy.

For Adam and Eve, God did something they couldn’t have imagined – shed blood. The only adequate covering for their sin and shame came by way of sacrifice. This animal sacrifice was to point to the ultimate covering – Christ Himself – who would be the sacrifice that establishes our permanent shelter under the eternal roof of God our Father.

We reside underneath the covering the Lord built by way of His son, Christ. Christ is our shelter. All that is promised in Scripture is discovered, experienced, and enjoyed under this shelter. There is no other.

Why, then, do we remain obstinate? Why do we run about, scrambling to find the kind of shelter that won’t tumble in the storm?

The Psalmist writes in Psalms 103:2,

Bless the Lord, O my soul; and all that is within me, bless his holy name! Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits.

Our short-term memory sends us searching outside the Shelter. We forget the benefit of His protection and provision and we venture out into the storm with our arms covering our faces.

With Christ as our shelter, our arms are free to raise. We don’t need to worry about being exposed or weak, for we are under His shelter – covered by His protection. We are free to make ourselves most vulnerable in praise to our Deliverer who is our covering.

under His shelter I will
let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 0

as if they were madmen and fools

Tim Challies, by way of his blog, introduced me to some of Richard Sibbes‘ writing. Here is an excerpt that I can’t seem to shake (keep in mind this language is circa 1600).

It has been an old imputation to charge distraction upon men of the greatest wisdom and sobriety. John the Baptist was accused of having a devil, and Christ to be beside Himself and the Apostles to be full of new wine, and Paul to be mad. The reason is because as religion is a mystical and spiritual thing, so the tenets of it seem paradoxes to carnal men; as first, that a Christian is the only freeman, and other men are slaves; that he is the only rich man, though never so poor in the world; that he is the only beautiful man, though outwardly never so deformed; that he is the only happy man in the midst of all his miseries. Now these things though true seem strange to natural men, and therefore when they see men earnest against sin, or making conscience of sin, they wonder at this commotion for trifles. But these men go on in a course of their own and make that the measure of all; those that are below them are profane, and those that are above them are indiscreet. By fanciful affections, they create idols, and then cry down spiritual things as folly. They have principles of their own, to love themselves and to love others only for themselves, and to hold on the strongest side and by no means expose themselves to danger.

But when men begin to be religious, they deny all their own aims, and that makes their course seem madness to the world, and therefore they labor to breed an ill opinion of them, as if they were madmen and fools.

These words breathe the paradox that drives people crazy – that we [Christians] are freemen, though we seem slaves; that we are rich, though we seem poor; that we are beautiful, though we appear deformed; that we are happy, though we live in misery.

Why can the world not understand this divine reconciling? Because they “go on in a course of their own and make that the measure of all” and “have principles of their own,” all this mystical business seems inconsequential and silly. Their standard leaves no room for “others first” and “sacrifice,” unless it might benefit in the end.

“But when…”

Aren’t these great words?

With all the world charting their course in the same selfish direction, a boat changing direction will get the attention of the entire fleet. Sibbes uses “religious men” here in the same way we might use “true believer” or “follower of Jesus Christ” to designate the different standard a Christian uses to measure his life. Everything he/she was pursuing previous (and the value of those things) shifts immediately and joyfully to an object that makes no sense to the world. To set a course for an unseen destination with immaterial results sounds like bad business and poor planning.

It sounds like madness.

 We should not be surprised when the world misunderstands our obsession with eternity or our talk of the “Kingdom coming” or our less-than-five-figure aspirations. We should not be surprised, even, if the world manipulates our words to sound crazy and our gatherings to look strange.

We are the skin, living in these paradoxes every day. We deny our own aims and ask Christ to reveal His standard, that we might set our course to run against traffic [or completely solo] toward Him. We set our course and it looks like foolishness.

Our neighbors have dreamed up a reason why we are so generous, our co-workers have decided our cheer is fake, our boss is sure we are working hard just for the promotion, our estranged brother still doesn’t believe we want to see him just “because.”

The world may say our course is madness – that our aims our full of folly – but our reward is not won from the world. As we fix our eyes on Christ, the Author and Perfector of our faith, He will give us the same joy he possessed as He endured the cross.

What madness Christ must have possessed to have his face set so squarely toward Jerusalem? What foolishness must have surrounded Him as he humbly entered the city on a donkey? What absolute insanity he must have endured while claiming Himself King while on the cross?

Though the world count us as madmen and fools, God allows another miracle as He transforms our hearts to serve even those who consider us crazy. Christ asked the Father to “Forgive them, for they know not what they do” in the midst of His misery. At the height of His public shame, His love and compassion for those who considered him crazy only grew.

May our hearts swell with love for those who consider us as madmen and fools.

May we
let LOVE fly like cRaZy
when it makes no sense at all to the world,
because it makes perfect sense in light of the Cross.

Posted on by Caroline 6

when faith is about living

I leaned up against the bed post and nestled in to reading position as I flipped the old, typed pages of a faded blue folder. These were weighty words – letters to my grandmother from friends and family shortly before she died. Some sent stories of college excursions and others talked about her hospitality. Nearly every entry spoke of her generosity and strong spirit. Many didn’t say it just like this, but when people looked at my grandma, they saw Jesus.

I didn’t mind getting weepy as I read about her nickname “Tillie the Toiler” in college and about her effortless way of putting others first. But it was toward the end of the simple, typed pages that my eye fell on an entry from my dad. At the top it read, “From Dick and Cindy Nichols, third child and his wife.” Though I’d been reading similar titles designating relationship to Grandma, this one shifted something inside and made her closer – more kindred.

I re-read the entry several times and my eyes fell on this sentence halfway through the last paragraph,

“I’m convinced that to live life to the fullest you must be able to face death confidently and with eternal assurance.”

Part of me felt my own convictions fall freshly into step with my dad’s, though I hadn’t ever heard him phrase it that way. I was seven when my grandma passed away, so my eyes were still inward and unable to see my dad’s pain and healing as he watched his mom wither and fade. But here, in these words, I found something beautiful like blooming Spring.

Though my flesh will fight it, my heart as a single woman is to serve the Lord and nothing else – but not as a regrettable sentence. I know with certainty both my supreme joy and greatest delight lie in this one passion. With eyes fixed on eternity, every moment of life has potential to be filled to abundance because Christ has overcome. This is all there is and somehow Grandma was able to keep it simple. With eternity figured out, she set about doing everything she could to bring the Kingdom to earth for those around her, knowing her reward was already stored up in forever communion with her Savior.

My dad shared a story about a pastor visiting Grandma in the hospital and saying, “It would be normal for you to ask God, ‘Why me?'” Grandma answered (predictably, according to my dad), “I have never asked God why – I never ask God why.”

When everyone expected her to cave… when everyone would readily excuse her for having little faith and a tired heart, Grandma kept her gaze steady on Jesus, the Author and Perfector of her faith. Jesus, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame and sat down at the right hand of God. With this kind of vision, Grandma understood that joy was possible to the very end, even when others expected her to run out. Christ filled her to overflowing every day she endured the painful decay of a mortal body. She knew she would sit down with her Savior soon and it gave her great joy to use every earthly moment sharing this blessed hope.

I’m not sure if it’s true, but my dad wrote,

“I don’t think you ever thought about death much; because of your faith there was never a need.”

She may not have thought about death much – the physical act of it with all the human details and baggage – but I know Grandma thought a lot about eternity. Her faith was not about escaping death. Her faith was about living.

She believed every moment could be lived abundantly on this side of heaven, spilling over into the lives of every person you touch.
She believed death was not the end, but the beginning of a life where her faith would be made sight and she would sit joyfully with Jesus.

These old, typed words on yellowed pages introduced me again to this woman and again to her Savior.
Oh, that I would live with this kind of faith.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 3

abide

Today, the Sabbath.

Today is a deep breath – to shed the strivings of six days toil and put on the Savior’s rest. Return, my friends. Return to rest.

Even if this day finds you in front of a screen, screaming for grown men in tight suits… even then, my friends, won’t you return to rest?

Today, I pray we abide in our Savior – in His love. I pray we regain our sight for the Kingdom of God – for the glorious already and not yet promises fulfilled in Christ. Because our eyes too often settle on a predictable horizon and we miss what lies beyond.

Our toil for this day – the Sabbath – is to trust the Savior is every bit of what He claims.

Trust. And return to rest, friends.

Posted on by Caroline 4

the greatest story that ever was

I wrote this entire post yesterday and then cyberspace stole it. It took me awhile to cool off and find time to try it again (because I had a 15 minute window between work and work), but if Vince is right – this should be better anyway.

This morning I woke up remembering. My mind was heavy with it and I didn’t want to shake free. A deep sadness chased after rose-petaled joy in the wide expanse of slight slumber and I soaked it all in with my head smooshed to the pillow. Remembering.

I know the words to a beautiful tale of trial and tragedy and triumph. I know the beginning and ending of the greatest story that ever was. I carry around the chapters in thought bubbles above my head and feel them in the work of my hands. It’s a living kind of story that is both finished and in process. It’s the kind of story that everyone wants to believe is true, but only some have eyes to see.

It’s a story where we are the characters and we live the plot.

This story is the Gospel.
God’s plan for humankind to live as we were designed – for worship.

The Gospel is the greatest story that ever was, penned by the Creator with great care – from the moment the first light broke into the furthest reaches of black void.

In the beginning, God. Forever before and forever after this little blip called human existence, God lives – Perfect, Holy, and Blameless. Our failure to reflect Him (in His perfection) required a hero – a Perfect Savior who would stand in our place to take on everything imperfect, unholy, and blame-filled. Christ is that Savior. 

And today my heart is heavy with the weight of this story – to receive it with joy and to tell it with abandon; to preach it with my feet and to sing it with laughter. This is the story of deliverance from death to life, from lost to found.

This is the story that changes everything. And so deep sadness plays with great joy in my soul as I turn over this blessing in my sleepy mind. This is the story that changes everything.

What have I imagined to be more important than this story? What have I elevated to get more fame than this true tale? What has taken my gaze from the One who redeemed me from the pit and restored my soul?

Today, the act opens on the greatest story that ever was and sets the stage for the greatest party that ever was. 

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

what scene are you making tonight? we are bound to make a scene – like fools in love.

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Posted on by Caroline 0

Let Us Not Forget

The story is not just about a babe in a manger.

This babe would pay it all – the price of our sin.
The babe would have crimson stains so that we would be washed as white as snow.

This is the babe we celebrate. This is the Christ child. This is Emmanuel, God with us.

Advent: God With Us from The Village Church on Vimeo.

Let us not forget, for He did not forget us. He engraved us on the palms of His hands.

let LOVE fly like CRAZY

Posted on by Caroline 1

let the winter come

A fan favorite
Tilt-A-Whirl

“Let the Winter come, for it is the only path to Spring.”

Still recovering from the intellectual and spiritual shock of One Thousand Gifts, I’ve jumped into another book where wide-eyed wonder has center stage.

When I read, “This book does not go straight,” in the preface of N.D. Wilson‘s book Notes From The Tilt-A-Whirl, it was like meeting someone for the first time who also happens to love imagination stations, homemade musicals, and the back issues of Real Simple.

It was almost too good. Wilson writes, “This book is built on that pattern [a car on a Tilt-A-Whirl] – spinning small and spinning big – and follows the earth through the seasons of one orbit.”

YES!

Someone finally admits this is all craziness and we have no choice but to step in and delight in the madness that is music and look reverently for the Conductor of it all.

This morning as I sat in church and listened to the message from Luke 2:1-20, I marveled that God chose to make the birth of the Messiah known by a stunning display of musical genius.

Can you imagine how this announcement would put all our cute little refrigerator photos to shame? A celestial choir in perfect harmony filled the sky with a music too pure for words, too perfect for description.

But, the announcement never made it to all those houses and all those fridges who expected to know of such an event.

God orchestrated the single best (and only) opening night production of, “Messiah has come to earth!” for a group of humble shepherds out in the fields, away from the city and the noise. There was no billboard, just the heavens collaborating in great joy – an indescribable gift for every one of the senses.

We are wrapped up into this mad story of cosmic romance where nothing makes any sense. Unless, of course, we hear the song of the angels. Unless we believe that our filthy, desperate lives can be redeemed. Unless we allow our eyes to travel upward and focus in on the grand production of the universe, orchestrated by its Creator to announce the coming of Life and a way out from misery and into great joy.

If you have been audience to such a performance, to whom are you now declaring this message – this production that now lives inside your heart as a follower of Christ?

For we are surely singing in glory with the angels that Hope has come down. And this Hope will not [can not] disappoint.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

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Posted on by Caroline 4

a matter of faith

Yesterday, I stumbled on some unlikely (for me) reading about Tim Tebow. I have tried to stay away from all the noise, because I don’t want to feed a monster. But, this article does more than diagnose a media phenomenon – Chuck Klosterman looks at why people are so passionate about whatever side they’ve chosen to take in the Tebow Controversy of 2011, of which I claim neutral status.

Here’s how he sums up his rather lengthy article,

The crux here, the issue driving this whole “Tebow Thing,” is the matter of faith. It’s the ongoing choice between embracing a warm feeling that makes no sense or a cold pragmatism that’s probably true. And with Tebow, that illogical warm feeling keeps working out. It pays off. The upside to secular thinking is that — in theory — your skepticism will prove correct. Your rightness might be emotionally unsatisfying, but it confirms a stable understanding of the universe. Sports fans who love statistics fall into this camp. People who reject cognitive dissonance build this camp and find the firewood. But Tebow wrecks all that, because he makes blind faith a viable option. His faith in God, his followers’ faith in him — it all defies modernity. This is why people care so much. He is making people wonder if they should try to believe things they don’t actually believe.

(Read the rest here)

I think Klosterman hits the nail square on its head when he suggests the real root of anti-Tebow angst is not his presence in the media or his specific religious affiliation. The real root of all this angry noise is a universal discomfort of the other. Tebow, a sports anomaly, appears to truly believe that there is a power greater than his offensive line and a plan beyond that of the Super Bowl… and he hasn’t biffed any interview to reveal otherwise.

Again, not necessarily a Tebow fan or non-fan, but I think this informal social study points to an uncomfortable result from the impressive intellectual advances of modern and post-modern thought. Your average Joe would rather support other average Joe sports icons who trust in their abilities alone to get the job done. But this is more than sports (also as Klosterman points out). Though it limits possibilities, we are willing to ex-communicate a divine presence because we would rather believe outcomes are within our control (good or bad). Believing otherwise means we would have to do some serious soul searching.

If Tebow is really as transparent as he seems, if there is no gnarly skeleton in his locker, if he does believe all he claims, then sports fans might have to start thinking seriously about the forever post-game.

There are countless historical examples of this same universal discomfort that arises when someone of irrefutable character makes a bold statement by a life that points to something else. I think of Bonhoeffer.

This man had the pedigree for greatness – he had family ties, academic prowess, and a determination that would make (dare I say) Tebow seem like a nursery rhyme. He studied hard, gathered degrees, and decided to pursue the ministry (in his day, a respected career, but an unlikely one for a man so bright and gifted).

But he had something I can’t quite put my finger on, something that weaves life with theology in a way they can’t be separated.

I call it viviology because I can’t find a better word.

This viviology is not a gimmick. It’s not something you see on Sunday or at speaking engagements. When Bonhoeffer was working with adolescent ruffians in Wedding, very few people noticed. His life was not a show, it was just life. I imagine if I could ask Bonhoeffer why he worked so hard with that confirmation class or why he poured so much into the discipleship of young men, he would say, “What else is there to do?”

Being “radical” or a “standout” is really not something we should have to add to “Christian.” C.S. Lewis once described in Weight of Glory our duty as Christians to always operate with a mindset of war. We are always accountable to our commander, always looking to be useful, and never looking for praise for what comes naturally with the job description as soldier.

God shouldn’t have to qualify our calling by saying He wants us to be “radical” Christians. When Christ said, “Follow me,” the calling was filled to fullness. There is no room for lukewarm and no room for additional meaning. The only kind of calling to follow Christ is one that consumes every fiber and fills every motion. The Christian calling is one alive and breathing, with the air of gratitude filling our lungs. A life of faith is not one that can be neatly sliced and served up in reasonable portions.

A life of Christian faith is just life – all of it.
And that’s a big statement.

I certainly didn’t set out thinking I had this much to say, but we surprise ourselves sometimes!

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

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Posted on by Caroline 1

Grace > Gratitude > Joy

Spurred on by the thoughts of Ann Voskamp, I love exploring the connection in the words of gratitude and grace and joy.

I’ve reflected on the Latin connection of grace and thanks, when I discovered they are nearly the same word in Spanish (gracia and gracias). The added element of JOY could not make more sense in my personal experience of Christ ALIVE in my life.

Voskamp writes about the greek word eucharisteo,

It means thanksgiving in Greek. My life’s struggling to pronounce it, that word that’s set like the unexpected crown jewel in the center of Christianity, right there at the Last Supper before the apex of the Cross. When Jesus takes the bread, gives thanks for it, that’s the word for his giving thanks: eucharisteo. It’s like a language lesson: in that word for thanksgiving, eucharisteo, are the roots of charis, grace, and chara, joy. If you can take all as grace, give thanks for it, therein is always joy.  Eucharisteo –  grace, gratitude, joy – one word that God in flesh acted out when he took the cup.

It’s like sitting in the eye doctor’s chair and thinking there is intentional sabotage in play, until he hits your visionary sweet spot and everything becomes crystal clear. The fuzzy shapes and letters become distinct lines with distinct meaning.

In this case, eucharisteo allows us to really see Christ and His provision through grace, our response through gratitude, and His invitation to joy.

Christ is our provision of grace.

Our response is thanksgiving.

The result is joy in His presence.

Do you need another cause to be merry?

happy Saturday, my lovely friends!
let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 3