Tag: Jesus (Page 3 of 3)

2013 and Packing up Christmas

January 2, 2013 /

Dear Friends,  Happy New Year!

As we start into 2013 I want to thank you, many of you who have stumbled across this blog or had someone forward it to you and you kept coming back over this first full year of “Awake My Soul”.  Thank you to those of you who have commented, or FB messaged or texted or emailed me sharing your thoughts or how God may have used a particular post.  We’re all in this together, and although our individual stories are unique, the grand themes of God’s story in our lives are what we hold in common – hope, fear, brokenness, redemption…

My goal is to get better in 2013…to post what is more God-honoring, compelling, encouraging, smile-bringing to you so that you look forward three times a week to stopping by, or opening your email if you subscribe.

If you have suggestions or feedback I’d love to hear from you.  Other than that, I don’t want to sound too Holy-shmoly but I’m truly aware of my dependence on God for writing material.  Today, since many of you are newer, I’m going to repost a favorite from last year titled Packing up Christmas.  

Blessings,                                                                                                                         Laura

Daughters Katy and Maggie have gone back to D.C.

It finally snowed here in Minnesota (righting a cosmic wrong).

And I ‘m sitting by the fire in our kitchen at dusk with a cup of hot chocolate as I write this.  Maggie insists I call it hot chocolate instead of cocoa.  No idea why.

The Christmas decorations are packed away til next year.  Ornaments made with chubby hands and glue of love.  Unusual baubles brought from far flung places.  Decorations marking special times.

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As I pack up Christmas I feel so conflicted…

I love and hate this time of year.

I hate it that it’s the end of my favorite season.  The end of twinkle lights and anticipation, shining stars and awe-struck shepherds.  Putting things away is such a mark of endings, while Jesus is the celebration of new beginnings that I love.

Jesus.  Every-day grace and fresh starts.  Every day.  Not just at Christmas and not just at New Years.

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Never. Under. Estimate my Jesus.

August 22, 2012 /

I’m taking a little August Sabbatical, so I thought I’d repost one of my favorites from last year.  Eric is continuing to grow and went to his first baseball game this summer.  I tell him every time I see him that he is an amazing young man.  I think he may be starting to believe it…

Every Monday evening from 5:00-6:00 I have what is both the most discouraging and most powerful hour of my week.

Three years ago I started tutoring a 9 year old girl named Erica who moved here from Togo, west Africa with her twin brother Eric, and her older brother Sylvanus.  Erica and Sylvanus have made the transition to a new city, a new culture, a 5th (yes, 5th!) language, and are catching up academically in a new school.  Amazing.  Courageous.  Inspiring.

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Gold Cards, Security Lines, and Jesus

August 13, 2012 /

Do you know what your airline status is?

You know…the color that tells everyone how special (or not) you are?

I’m Silver in the eyes of Delta…just about to cross that magic threshold to Gold, but not quite there yet.  And I can’t even see the Promised Land of Platinum from where I sit in coach.

Yes, I’m Silver.  But John?  John is Gold.  All this usually means is that he gets bumped up to 1st class if it’s a 45 minute flight to Dubuque in non-rush-hour.

The other day, however, it meant more.

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Where are you going today?

May 9, 2012 /

Tomorrow John and I are leaving to go to Sri Lanka, off the coast of India (yes, I had to check).  He for a World Vision Board meeting.  Me, to support him in his Board-dom and see more of God’s world and work.

The amount of travel I get to do is a privilege I don’t take lightly.  I’m blessed, but I told the girls it doesn’t bode well for me that one of the first things I read about Sri Lanka is that they have 84 different kinds of snakes, but not to worry because not that many are poisonous.

I hate snakes.  I mean really.  Me and Indiana Jones.

So, Sri Lanka has that against it.  And it’s like a million hours on three flights to get there which I could live without.

But, I’ve been thinking.  Discomfort and snakes aside, in many ways it’s easier for me to go across the world and build relational bridges to folks in Sri Lanka, than it is for me to go across the street and build a bridge to my neighbors who smoke and have loud parties and yell at their kids.

It may be easier to fly across continents than for me to make the time to fight traffic and go across the city to a homeless shelter, or to tutor.

Sometimes it’s easier to jet across time-zones than to walk across the Great Room at church and include someone who is hard to love.  Or cross the coffee shop to listen to enter into someone’s pain, or reach out to a stranger.

I think of what it was like for Jesus, leaving the pure delight of heaven and coming across time and space to enter into the everyday brokenness, muck and mess of this world He loves.

And then He went across cultural and economic and class lines to reach the Samaritan, the tax-collector, the confused rich, and the broken-hearted father.

I think the reason it’s easier for us to go across the world than across the street is because across the street is just so everyday.  It’s always right there.  It’s the ever-present opportunity we’ll get to “someday”.

Going across my city, my neighborhood, my church, my home, my coffee shop.  It’s not like it’s a big deal.  Which is why, perhaps it is a big deal to Jesus.

A quote by Gregory Boyle has captured me this week: Jesus “goes where love has not yet arrived.”

So on this last day before Sri Lanka, my goal is to be aware go across wherever I can go across in my everyday world, prayerfully going where maybe love has not yet arrived.

Where is it hard for you to go across?

What do you do with Easter after Easter?

April 18, 2012 /

My cousin died last week.  And a friend was deeply wounded by something a loved one said to her.  And another friend continues to pray for healing from a painful illness.  And another is deeply discouraged.  I imagine each of you could add something to the list.

And last week, after Easter, I was reading in John 20 when Mary comes and finds the tomb empty.  It was my “scheduled” devotional reading, and I’m a rule-follower, so I was obedient, and read it, but inside I was thinking…”Easter is OVER!  Been there, celebrated that.  Let’s move on.” (I’m not proud, just being honest).

I felt like those people who leave their Christmas wreath up til May.  Easter didn’t feel relevant after Easter, which I know is soooo wrong, but like at the tomb, God was gracious and showed up

I was clonked on the head like one of the Three Stooges as I entered into this passage as Mary.  Yes, Mary Magdalene, the one who Jesus miraculously cast all the demons out of, but at the same time, someone like all of us, any of us, who are ever in pain, lost, confused...

She’s so wrapped up in her own despair she doesn’t recognize Jesus.  And He’s RIGHT THERE! With her.  But at first her grief is larger than her God.  It’s all she can see.

“I will never leave or forsake you.”

And Jesus asks her “Why are you crying?”

I imagine a gentle tone and understanding in His eyes.  And I think, “What would Mary have answered?”

“I’m wrecked.  I’m disillusioned.  I’m lonely.  I’m afraid.  I don’t know what to do.”?

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those crushed in spirit.”

And then Jesus says her name.  “Mary.”  And I imagine it like a parent would softly say the name of a distraught toddler as they tried to soothe away their tears.

In that one word it seems Jesus is telling Mary, and us, so many things.

I’m here.  And it will be ok because I’m here.  I see you.  I understand your pain.  I hurt with you. Just a few days ago I was the one saying “My God, why have you forsaken me?”  So I get it.  Really.

“Do not fear for I have redeemed you.  I have summoned you by name.  You are mine.”

So for Joyce and Katie and Sue and Nikki, and so many others I pray that you might sense Jesus turning to you and asking “Why are you crying?”  That you might sense Him truly enter into your pain and gently say your name.

Sometimes I guess I just need to be reminded that Easter isn’t just about Easter.  It’s about all those days after Easter when we cry or feel desperate or disappointed or alone and it seems like Jesus has left the building.  But He hasn’t.  So maybe I’ll leave the Easter decorations up another week.

Haircuts and Jesus

January 16, 2012 /

The other day I was getting my hair cut by Mary who’s cut it for several years.  We’ve become friends of sorts (as much as you can when you only talk in the beauty shop every 5 weeks) and have shared quite a bit about our lives.  I’m not positive where she is in terms of a relationship with Jesus.  I think she believes, but maybe has not chosen to nurture that relationship or be part of a faith community, or think much about faith and how it could impact her life.  That said, she’s a really good person.  🙂

Anyway, I was thinking after I left, “If she didn’t know I was a Christ-follower (which she does), would ANYTHING in my tone, actions, or reactions, or the content of what I said to her seem different than any other woman who sits in her chair every day?”   I mean, how Jesus-y is reading People magazine and talking about movies for Pete’s sake?

That got me thinking about a woman who was in my life many years ago…an informal mentor who had a huge impact on me.  A Jesus-like woman who epitomized the verse “Let your speech be always with grace.”  Her name was (and is) Coke (short for Colleen) Evans. It’s probably been 20 years since I’ve seen her.  Even more than the impact of her words, I carry with me “snapshots”…memories of times when her posture and her expression and her actions shouted “grace” with surround sound clarity.

Snapshot #1.  We were at a huge church party in a private home.  People helped themselves to food in a buffet line and then spread throughout the large colonial home.  I was having a blast.  So many fun people and lively conversations.  I had gotten my food and was walking down a hallway when I passed a tiny den.  There were only two people in the room sitting on a small couch in deep conversation.  One was an extremely  unattractive, and socially awkward woman.  And sitting next to her was Coke, looking at her with love, hanging on this woman’s every word as if she was the most important woman in the universe.

Like Jesus if He had been at the party.

Snapshot #2.  There was a concert at church in the downstairs fellowship hall.  As I walked in from the back I noticed the man who was the most bitter, mean-spirited man I knew.  And he was a vocal critic of Coke’s husband, the senior pastor.  But there she was, full of grace, sitting next to him, and leaning in with love in her eyes, caring for him, and listening with single-minded attention. 

Like Jesus, if He had come to the concert.

Here’s what strikes me as I think back about Coke, and ask my own question about any possible Jesus-y difference Mary might notice in me:  as much as Coke spoke words of grace, it was more powerful that her whole demeanor was one of loving, gracious attention.  When she was with you it was like you were the most important person in her world.  She would lean in, look you deep in the eyes, lay a gentle hand on your arm and treat you like you were of infinite worth, even though the rest of world might be ready to write you off.  More than her words, Coke had a posture of grace.  And that’s what made her different.

Kind of like Jesus.

Today I’m asking myself again, “Is there a difference in my life marked by grace that anyone would notice and think of Jesus?”  What about you?

Who’s a “Coke” in your life?


Packing up Christmas

January 2, 2012 /

Daughters Katy and Maggie have gone back to D.C.

It finally snowed here in Minnesota (righting a cosmic wrong).

And I ‘m sitting by the fire in our kitchen at dusk with a cup of hot chocolate as I write this.  Maggie insists I call it hot chocolate instead of cocoa.  No idea why.

The Christmas decorations are packed away til next year.  Ornaments made with chubby hands and glue of love.  Unusual baubles brought from far flung places.  Decorations marking special times.

As I pack up Christmas I feel so conflicted…

I love and hate this time of year.

I hate it that it’s the end of my favorite season.  The end of twinkle lights and anticipation, shining stars and awe-struck shepherds.  Putting things away is such a mark of endings, while Jesus is the celebration of new beginnings that I love.

Jesus.  Every-day grace and fresh starts.  Every day!!  Not just at Christmas and not just at New Years.

As I was taking decorations down and wrapping up the creche I got to thinking maybe I should keep the baby Jesus out as a reminder.  Maybe not pack Him away.

It made me think of this Frederick Buechner quote:

“Those who believe in God can never in a way be sure of him again. Once they have seen him in a stable, they can never be sure where he will appear or to what lengths he will go or to what ludicrous depths of self-humiliation he will descend in his wild pursuit of us. If holiness and the awful power and majesty of God were present in the least auspicious of all events, this birth of a peasant’s child, then there is no place or time so lowly and earthbound but that holiness can be present there, too. And this means that we are never safe, that there is no place where we can hide from God, no place where we are safe from his power to break in two and recreate the human heart because it is just where he seems most helpless that he is most strong, and just where we least expect him that he comes most fully.”

Isn’t that great??  “no place or time so lowly and earthbound but that holiness can be present there, too…”

The decorations that have heralded Jesus’ birth may be packed away, but He is not.  He’s here!  Among us and in us and around us…holiness invading and redeeming the ordinary and the ugly and the broken.

Today, an “after Christmas” day, a back-to-routine and back-to-work day…How are you feeling?  Where might you see Him?

“Steep your life in God-reality, God initiative, God-provisions…Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now…” Mt. 6 MSG

Canceling Church, part 2

December 26, 2011 /

Merry day after Christmas!  I hope you had a lovely day, fully present to Jesus and loved ones around you.  

Friday I posted on different attitudes towards canceling church on Christmas day, including my own whine well reasoned argument against John signing our family up to lead in worship.  Well the troops rallied and it was a delightful day.  Since I’m following the advice of my blog “mentor”, Jon Acuff and taking a little break this week, I thought I’d just post what I shared in church yesterday. 

Twenty-six years ago this past week John and I were waiting for a baby to arrive.  It was Advent so we were waiting to celebrate the birth of Jesus.  But we were also expecting our first baby.

I was 8 months pregnant and like all expectant parents we were discussing names.   We couldn’t agree, but it wasn’t for lack of resources.

We had a baby book with the meanings of names.

And even a Christian version with Bible verses for each name’s meaning.

And then we had, you know… the whole BIBLE, with all those holy names to choose from.  But…we had…issues.

I had been an elementary school teacher which meant we had to nix any names that had belonged to problem kids I had had in class.  I used to love the name Jeremy until I had a third grade “Jeremy” who was worse than Dennis the Menace and Osama bin Laden.  So Jeremy was out.  And so was Alex.  And Michael.

Then we had trouble agreeing on the type of name.  I like unusual names, and would have no problem naming a child Zechariah (my cousin has kids named Cosmo and Zappa so he’d feel right at home).  But John likes the classics (and the name “John” in particular), so there was no way we could agree on a boy’s name that was acceptable.  It’s a good thing we had a girl.

When Jesus was born, Mary and Joseph didn’t have to have the “What shall we name him” conversation fraught with the potential disagreements.  I know there are a lot of downsides, to being the parents of the Messiah, but this is a perk.  They had an ANGEL show up and say, “Here’s the deal.  You’re gonna have a baby and I want you to name Him Jesus.  Got that?  Jesus.   Not Joe.”  

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Never. Under. Estimate my Jesus.

November 30, 2011 /

Every Monday evening from 5:00-6:00 I have what is both the most discouraging and most powerful hour of my week.

Three years ago I started tutoring a 9 year old girl named Erica who moved here from Togo, west Africa with her twin brother Eric, and her older brother Sylvanus.  Erica and Sylvanus have made the transition to a new city, a new culture, a 5th (yes, 5th!) language, and are catching up academically in a new school.  Amazing.  Courageous.  Inspiring.

Eric is just as courageous, but he is now a 12-year old boy who has fallen through the cracks of the system…been passed along because that’s convenient…been teased by his peers when he’s trying to catch up by doing 3rd grade level work as a 6th grader.

So now I tutor Eric, sitting in an old inner city church that looks like it’s out of The Bells of St. Mary’s.  We sit at a huge table with about 10 other loud, chaotic, disruptive kids who are supposed to be doing their homework, but would like nothing better than to foment a Middle School revolution with Eric as a compatriot.

Every week, for the first 15 minutes, the revolutionaries seem to be winning.  Eric has no use for me.  He grumbles.  He makes excuses. He’s too cool.  It’s too hard to work when others are playing.  I wonder why I make the effort to fight the traffic and the snow and the dark to drive into this neighborhood for a kid who doesn’t care.

And then, every week, when I’m about to give up, in an instant, the tide of the battle turns and Eric gives in and starts reading to me or doing his times tables.

Now here’s the thing that floors me.  None of the chaos around us stops.  All the other kids are loud and distracting…arguing, throwing things, flirting…But once Eric is engaged, nothing (and I mean nothing) will deter him from his concentration.

Yesterday he chose an Amelia Bedelia book and as he’s reading and pencils are flying through the air around us and boys are fighting all around us I’m thinking “This 12-year-old kid is going to be bored with this book!  He’s gonna give up any minute.  I would!”  But no.  Not only does he keep reading for 40 minutes, he asks questions, and follows my directions to write a summary for his teacher.

At the end of our time, everyone has left to go downstairs to dinner.  Eric and I are  alone at the big table and it is finally quiet.  I look deep into his beautiful African brown eyes and say, “Eric, you are amazing.  You have the most remarkable ability to focus and remember what you’ve read.  You have worked so hard.  I am proud of you and you should be proud of yourself.”

His eyes don’t leave mine.  He doesn’t look away.

Now Eric is a 12 year old boy remember, so I don’t expect to get much of a response, but he looks back at me with the unmistakable expression of a starving kid being given a morsel of hope.  

And I think, “How can I not come back next week?”

When I get to my car the tears come as I think this is just one hour out of Eric’s whole week.  One small statement of affirmation in a sea of taunting and apathy.  It’s not enough.  It’s not enough.  He needs so much more.

And then I turn on the car and the words come over my cd player…

“Never.  Under.  Estimate my Jesus.

You’re telling me that there’s no hope.

I’m telling you you’re wrong.”

And I start praying for this little boy.  “Abba Father, do what only You can do.”  Multiply this one measly hour.  Multiply these paltry words of affirmation in the life of this precious boy.

Where in your life are you feeling hopeless?  What words do you think Jesus might speak to you? 

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