Tag: Christianity

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

serious about sin | serious about joy

I’ve been accused of being too serious.

Does that surprise you, friends of the blog-o-sphere, with all my stories of falling down and loving laughter and chasing raindrops? Does it surprise you that people think I’m too serious?

I’ve learned that not everyone likes to read books stuffed full of long syllabled words and very few people want to ask if those long syllabled words would ever change my plans for the day. And I get it. Sometimes, I forget that “taking a genuine interest in the welfare of others” means doing things that matter little to me because they matter much to someone else. Sometimes, I act like the child who once told me, “Please stop doing anything that you like.” Sometimes, I find myself in a self-righteous wrestling match because I think, “Shouldn’t we all be serious about the things of God (even if it means strings of long syllables)?”

And then I think about the children who came to Jesus. They probably had a hard time pronouncing their Rs and words that started with C. Their understanding of love and grace and kindness didn’t come from a study of thick textbooks.

I imagine they did have a certain seriousness about them, but not the self-righteous and learned kind.

I’ve seen this seriousness play across children’s faces in the most solemn moments, when the line between right and wrong is being drawn on their hearts and in their heads for the first time. I can hear the nervous claims coming out from wide eyes,

“She took it from me and I yelled at her.”
“But Mommy said to never go in there…”
“Why doesn’t the man have food?”
“I hit my brother.”
“Laney took a cookie.”

You can hear them, can’t you? The confessions and questions come out slowly and with those little eyebrows arching high to scrunch the forehead.

There is a seriousness about children when it comes to sin that I think wears off as we age. We get comfortable with the idea that we fail and we get tired of the wide-eyed confessions.

But there is something very sad about being cavalier with our sin, an emptiness apathy and disregard can’t replace. Have you ever stuck around after a child does mini-battle with the questions/confessions above? Do you see what happens?

Freedom.

When they recognize how serious it is to sin, they are freed to be truly joyful. There is nothing hidden. Their (or human) failure is exposed and there is nothing left to rationalize – just space to revel in the gratitude that they are forgiven, accepted, invited, loved.

I’m currently reading both Leviticus and Galatians and the contrast is captivating.

We serve a serious God. Sin is not a Sunday School lesson. The hoops the Israelites had to jump through on account of their sin were certainly not neatly wrapped up in a 20 minute moral lesson. The rules and regulations set up a healthy fear of the Lord and a distaste for anything that divided their relationship with Him. Sin is serious. I cannot imagine living in that time. I mean, I’ve tried imagining it and I nearly always end up pleading with the Lord to be a little more understanding. But, the Lord keeps reminding my heart, “Sin is serious.”

Then, I flip to Galatians and just want to dance. If I have the right (serious) view of sin, my salvation is like dancing with the cast of Fiddler on the Roof as they sing, “To Life, to life, l’chaim!”

I am free. Free!

How is it that children get this – that we got this as kids – and adults don’t?

If sin is serious, then so is JOY.

We were brought OUT of serious darkness and INTO serious light.
Why is it so hard to understand that a frivolous position on the former means a frivolous position on the latter?

It’s true, I can be too serious sometimes and I’m rightly called out when I’m trying to puff myself up. But, brothers and sisters, can we agree to build up the Body of Christ by being serious about sin so we can be serious about joy?

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 0

satisfied

I am satisfied in you.

It’s a hopeful statement, yes, but it very much ends with a powerful period. This morning, I am forgetting not His benefits and I am satisfied.

Psalm 103:2
Praise the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits

When there are ripples of discontent or rumblings of doubt, God reminds me that He responds to my questions with an answer always as full and lush as Spring.

He satisfies.
He satisfies.
He satisfies.

So, today I’m hoping that I will…

“Let my sighs give way to songs that sing about your faithfulness
Let my pain reveal your glory as my only real rest
Let my losses show me all I truly have is you”

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 0

grapefruits and what we do with good gifts

Today I ate a grapefruit for lunch – with Saltines, just like my Grandpa Nichols. I used to try to eat a grapefruit like an orange and that never ended well. I’ve since learned a method that wastes little of the delicious fruit.Grapefruit (half)

As I was cutting into the pink today, careful to not waste any of those sweet, pink pockets, I realized that enjoying a grapefruit is a commitment. You’ve got to be willing to work in order to enjoy membrane-less, tangy goodness.

I started thinking about all the reasons I don’t choose good things – all the times I’ve passed up a grapefruit for a granola bar just because it’s easier. I know what’s better and sometimes I can even taste it because I’ve chosen it before, but something dreadful inside of me attacks my knowledge of “better.” And I end up settling for less effort and less goodness.

God promises to not withhold any good thing from us. In Christ, God lavishes an inheritance I can’t comprehend – gifts that won’t run out even if I open one every moment of my life. God promises, in Christ to withhold no good thing from us, so the choice for less is on me.

Psalm 84:11
For the LORD God is a sun and shield; the LORD bestows favor and honor; no good thing does he withhold from those whose walk is blameless.

I wondered (cutting up that tasty giant took some tiempo) if we learn to recognize the good things, but are never held accountable to do/use them. In college I sat in study groups and wrote papers and made passionate presentations about all the good things we should be/could be doing, but the doing of those things is just too hard and everybody knows it. Now, I go to bible studies and post facebook links and wax philosophy at coffee shops about the best ways to change the world, but the doing of these things is just too hard and everybody knows it.

Everybody knows we’ll end up ordering Little Caesar’s instead of planning a homegrown spread from the garden. Everybody knows those ideas about loving others and living like Jesus are like climbing Mt. Everest – we can feel the rush as we raise our hands in victory on the summit, but we’re never going to train for it.
It’s just the way we do life.

I sat down to enjoy my juicy prize at my desk and thought, “But it doesn’t have to be that way.”

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 3

is theology unmixable?

I just read this article yesterday, “Why Theology and Youth Ministry Seldom Mix” and now I’m wondering what we would say Theology does mix with? Or does the study of God always hang out in its own category – in the same coffee shop where people who study God hang out?

Is the solution to our watered down youth programs more theology? Is theology something we can add in to the recipe of various ministries where some have enough, others too much, and others not enough?

Maybe theology is about living. Doesn’t it make sense that the more we study God the more we know what pleases Him and the more we delight to do it? So, our ministry (whether formal or otherwise) is not about balancing out the messy games with the exegesis of Romans. Ministry is just about inviting others into our study of God – finding out what pleases Him and delighting to do it together.

I once tried to come up with a word for this: viviology.
I know it doesn’t make sense and thank goodness I don’t work at Webster’s. But, as I read through Bonhoeffer by Eric Metaxas several years ago, I struggled to come up with a way to describe the kind of life Dietrich Bonhoeffer lived. He was so serious about theology. I mean, brilliance ran in the guy’s family so he would have excelled in whatever field he chose to pursue. The interesting piece is not that Bonhoeffer was brilliant as a theologian, but that he was brilliant as a mentor, friend, and pastor.

To Bonhoeffer, theology wasn’t something that he worked in to a lesson plan. Theology happened when he played soccer and wrote letters and read for hours. Theology happened when he was in prison and when he struggled through sin and when conviction led him to take a stand against injustice. Theology wasn’t an additive.

Theology – the truest kind, I think – is always mixed. In fact, it’s mixed so much that it can’t be pulled apart from all the pieces of life it connects. Ministry is about drawing others into a study of God so that we know what pleases Him and are delighted to do it together.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 1

making plans

Call me crazy, but I had a vision.

I was sitting at my dining room table and city maps, plane tickets, and blank journals had spread themselves open on its worn, oak surface. I was cupping a strong mug of coffee in my hands and listening to my husband get animated about our plans. My feverish, excited voice would sometimes overlap his as we finished sentences (as lovers do) and confidently claimed the world could not handle the love we would unleash.

But my heart mostly swelled to match the passion I saw in him to reach the broken world and live in abundant joy in the process. It was about adventure, sure. But, my heart lept like mad at the thought of living alongside my love, being drawn into the things that he loves.

I was his and he was mine. And it was Christ, my bridegroom.

The more often I reflect on this vision (I know, crazy), the more giddy I feel. Christ desires nothing less than to sit down with me and make plans to love the Lord and love others. I wonder if it makes Him giddy that it makes me giddy. I hope so.

Lately, as I dive deeper into the Word, the Lord’s jealousy is real. When I sit down at the dining room table with all my other loves – children, travel, ministry, writing, relationships – I can see his sadness. But, his sadness is not just for my distance and making plans with others. His sadness is for all the ways I could be living abundantly but choose to live half full. His sadness is that I am not living this life as He intended; as I could be living it if I was with my Love, loving what He loves.

The Lord’s jealousy is like a coin I keep turning over in my fingers. He is jealous that I would love Him and Him alone, but in doing so my life explodes in great joy – the kind of joy that cannot be contained; the kind of joy that has to overflow; the kind of joy that rises above even in the most painful of circumstances because it’s anchored below in the sturdiest Love.

When I left high school and then college and then my first job, I was supposed to grow out of the lopsided, willing, “I’ll do anything for you, Lord.” It’s just not practical; not… advised. We see “happiness” and “God’s will” as slippery, future somethings we meander towards while maintaining more “practical positions” in this life.

But, God desires we make the lopsided, grinning statement, “I’ll do anything for you, Lord” every single day – whether butcher, blogger, or banker. Whatever our station, God desires that we would walk alongside Him – loving what He loves as we love Him.

I pray, as I meet my Bridegroom at the dining room table, my heart will rise to love Him more. I pray I will love what He loves and our life together will be one that overflows goodness wherever we go.

And I know the joy that follows will make sunshine look like a night light.
He’s just that good.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 1

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

more than life itself

“Jesus was not passionate about suffering – He wasn’t gifted in death by crucifixion. Jesus was passionate about the will of His Father.”

I know – we’re not all good at the same things. Some of us are painters and others of us are mathematicians; some are poets and others are scientists; some are silly and some are serious. I’ve heard about “personality profiles” and “strengths tests” and I get it. We are all made differently and we do different things well, some exceptionally.

But, when Brad Buser said the above at Perspectives on Sunday, it was like the last puzzle piece fell into place to create the picture of my uneasiness about the way we “find God’s will for our lives.” It’s pretty simple, really.

We start here.

We say, “Self, what do you like to do? What are you good at?”

In the Garden of Gethsemane, hours before the appointed hour of his death, Christ said, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.”

Not as I will, Lord, but as you will.
Not as I will, Lord, but as you will.

I used to love Frederich Buechner’s quote, “The place God calls you is where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.”

Now, I think it’s simpler.

The place God calls you is to be about Him.
It means treasuring the Lord more than my closest friend, choosing the Lord above my family, loving the Lord with an intimacy the earth cannot touch.

It means wanting the will of the Father more than life itself.

And there’s a tension in my bones that says making such a bold (albeit shaky) declaration in my soul must mean 20 years with a tribe who has never heard the Gospel.

I must go, now, toward a love that’s more than life itself. I must shake off everything that so easily entangles and run the race with one prize in mind.

I want so desperately to believe my calling is to be about Him.
Not as I will, Lord, but as You will. 

Posted on by Caroline 0

lessons in location

“Caroline Nichols.”

The voice on the other end of the line came from another world and there was no greeting when she picked up the phone – just my first and last name in a way that also said, “finally.”

It had been too long.

Then there was a kind of rustling somewhere in my soul.
“Why am I not there?” it seemed to say.

A swell of confused discontent crashed tidal waves on my stateside resolve as Ana shared stories of trial and triumph in the everyday working out of her faith. God is transforming her life, making her new. And I am not there.

___

The Lord hid my computer cord in the desk drawer this past week, I’m sure, because He knew I needed some unplugged space to breathe. He’s been teaching me lessons in location.  After living in five states and another country, I know about location. I know what distance does to relationships and how important it is to look someone in the eye. I know about airports and unfamiliar city streets and walking into a church where no one knows my name. I know a little about location and what it does to the soul when you make roots and rip them out.

Somewhere in the unplugged breathing space this week, my question of location – being there or here or somewhere else – became quite irrelevant. Because my question implies that location is about me. “Why am I not there?” places all the significance and purpose on my location. And how foolish; how prideful! God, who laid the foundation of the earth and decorated the heavens, is not confined by our human understanding of location or our physical presence in any certain place.

He is always here and always there and never hidden out of reach.
He is forever present.
His location is always and everywhere. 

Of old you laid the foundation of the earth,
and the heavens are the work of your hands.
They will perish, but you will remain;
they will all wear out like a garment.
You will change them like a robe, and they will pass away,
but you are the same, and your years have no end.
The children of your servants shall dwell secure;
their offspring shall be established before you.
(Psalm 102:25-28 ESV)

Isn’t that beautiful? God is never lost amidst the far reaches of His creation. He is always at home everywhere and our home is in Him. 

There is fullness of joy in the presence of the Lord (Psalm 16:11) and the Lord is present everywhere! Now my physical location becomes a detail in God’s greater story. I may be present in Iowa and far from Tegucigalpa right now, but God resides in His people – He makes a home in us.

___

So, when I hear her voice from the other side of the world; when I think about all the places I am not, I breathe deep and trust that God is. My heart wants only to join with Him, wherever I am, to make known the message of His grace.

This is home; this is the always location.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 1

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