Did Jesus Live in the Basement?

I'm typically a pretty agreeable person.  I don't like to argue.  Nope, I don't like it one bit.  I don't even like silently disagreeing, though there are plenty of times I do.  Over the past few years, God has been teaching me that it's not always good to remain silent, and I've been learning to "listen" for His guidance on when it's okay and good to stay quiet and when it's best to step outside my comfort zone and say something.

I've been feeling for a few days now, since I read and had time to digest the popular blog post by Jen Hatmaker called In The Basement, that I need to say something in response to it.  My little blog here is really not very significant in the scheme of things, so my words aren't likely to make much of an impact, but I still need to be obedient to what I feel the Lord is impressing upon me to write.  Please read that blog post if you haven't, so you know exactly what it is I'm talking about here.

It was a delight to read the heart, the writing style, and the obvious love behind the post.  I sincerely enjoyed reading it and looking at things from a unique perspective.  I was drawn in from the beginning, being a sufferer of tornado-phobia myself.

I agreed with much of what was written--the examining of our own hearts instead of others' and the hatred of "abuse and violence and crowded orphanages and trafficked sixth-graders," for example-- there was so much good stuff there, I can't possibly list it all here.  Yet something was nagging at my spirit.  I feel like . . . well, like, there's more to the story!

I don't agree that we would be right to just park ourselves in the basement for keeps.

Yeah, many people generally flee to the basement to escape the literal storm.  But, first of all, not everyone has that privilege.  Some people don't have basements.  Others have occupations that keep them above ground even during the worst of a storm.  They aren't wrong or bad because of it.

Secondly, we don't remain in the basement.  We have to come up and face the aftermath of the storm.  For many who survive the storm, the aftermath is much worse than the storm itself.  Yet those details must be attended to!

I completely "get" the fatigue and disgust at the cultural wars waging in our country.  It is so very tiring and becomes hateful on both "sides" sometimes.  Beyond hateful, really.  I don't disagree with that.

But that doesn't mean we are to totally disengage from the war.  It doesn't mean that everyone who is fighting is using nasty methods.  It doesn't mean there's nothing worth fighting for.

Jesus argued with people all the time.  He knew how and chose to do so lovingly.  He made many people uncomfortable with his accountability.

He didn't have his own agenda, though.  He was all about His FATHER's business!

Yes, there are devout, well-meaning Christians who think they are "fighting for the Lord," but who somewhere down the line go off on their own tangents, forgetting that they ought not to be name-calling or blowing up buildings (abortion clinics) or withholding respect from certain groups of people.  It seems to become more about them personally being "heard" at all costs.  These haters are LOUD, just like many liberally-minded people can be very LOUD.  Scary even.  It isn't right to behave that way.

Just because those people stoop to those tactics, does not mean there aren't also many who fight fair!  The Bible makes it clear that this life is a war, that we are to stand on the side of righteousness and fight the good fight!  God is using many strong, steady, courageous, persevering men, women, teenagers and children who are willing to keep their eyes on Him and His agenda.  They love people with the best kind of accountability--loving, biblical, Christ-like--naming sin sin without stooping to the hateful tactics of LOUD foolishness.

Somebody NEEDS to be vigilantly aware of what's going on and willing to stand up for truth!  If God isn't calling you, dear reader, to be that one right now, then you need to be obedient to that.  But we need to support those whom God places in the heat of the battle, not accuse them of just being LOUD and hateful like those who actually are LOUD and hateful.  The ones God has called and who are responding rightly to that call are NOT like all the rest!

Of course it's okay to rest sometimes.  Jesus did that!  But He always got back to work.  He loved people, and part of the way He showed His love was by telling them He knew of their sin, and, more importantly, what could be done about it!  He did not run away from conflict!

If we all stay in the basement, the world has no chance of getting any better.  I personally am so thankful for those who stay above and fight in ways I don't yet know how to.  I'm grateful that they make the most of opportunities that I'll likely never have.  If those people had not been fighting for many years now, before most of us even took the time to realize there was a war, we would not even have the dwindling freedoms as Christians that we're clinging desperately to today.

I believe it is disrespectful and incorrect to lump all the warriors in one lot and say or imply they are all hateful, obnoxious, and using the Gospel as a "bludgeoning tool."  This is false.

It is not automatically hateful to call homosexuality (as one of many examples) wrong.  It IS wrong!  To name-call and degrade people who have chosen that lifestyle is hateful and wrong as well.  It's just as unloving, though, to pretend what they are doing is okay, that there aren't often horrible consequences tied to that choice, both for the homosexual person himself or herself and to the society that lies about it in the name of "tolerance."  There's no love there!

Correctly-handled accountability is not hateful!

And there is no love in just allowing people to die in their delusions, not even trying to help them see the truth.

There is ministry happening in that basement, but there are other things going on in other places.  And that's a good thing.

Now, as a blogger (on a smaller scale) myself, I'm aware that people can misunderstand the points of our blog posts from time to time.  I'm really open to the possibility that I missed something (though I've read it several times) or just didn't understand the central message of that post.  And even if the message was that she thinks we should stay in the basement and not try to fight for what's right, it is absolutely her right to think and say so.

Just as it is mine to say I disagree with that part of it.

This post is not directed at the writer of that post.  It's just the response of my heart to what I read, and maybe an opportunity for a few readers to consider what the Lord impresses upon them to think and do about these cultural battles . . . which are not likely to end anytime soon.

In the end, it's really not about Chick-fil-A or Obamacare.  It's about the lies and deceit and injustice that have been allowed to run rampant through our country, and what God is asking us individually and collectively to do about it.  It starts with the individual.  God doesn't want us to be disheartened and afraid!  He doesn't want us to wallow in our fatigue over the state of our nation.

What does He want you to do?  What does He want you to say?  Will you do it?  Will you say it?  (I'm absolutely asking myself these questions!)

May HIS agenda be foremost on our minds, and may we glorify HIM in all we think and do and say!

Songs from the Heart

My 10-year-old son loves, loves, loves to write songs and sing them over and over.  He has a yellow legal pad where he scribbles down new lyrics.  As he doesn't know how to write music notes at this point, the melodies change over time.

But does that bother God?  I mean, He is the one almost all of these songs are written for--songs of worship, songs of surrender, songs of loyalty--all to his God.

Earlier this evening, Little Mister and I had an argument.  Well, to be more precise, he was arguing with me, and I, being overly exhausted from an extended period of insomniac nights, was having a hard time thinking of the wisest ways to handle it.  I remained fairly calm, but was probably adding more to the drama than I would typically prefer with my strong-willed guy!

In any case, he was sent to bed early after I told him how much I love him no matter what.  He went obligingly, but I could tell he was still upset at his consequence--thinking it undeserved and all of that.

A little while later, I heard a noise behind me and turned around in time to see his quick-as-a-flash figure disappear around the corner.  On the table was his hand-held tape recorder (an old one--yeah, like from the 1980s--that Kevin gave him to use).  I've come to recognize that tape recorder to be like the notes I used to write to my parents when I had a lot to say but wanted to make sure I said it the way I meant it.  Oh, yes, my parents found oodles of notes on their pillows over the years, from their five girls. :)

So, I picked up the tape player and pressed the "play" button.  What filled my ears (and my heart!) was a made-up-as-he-went-along song about how I am the best mom and how he loves me even when we don't agree and how much I do for him and how I saved his life (not sure what that's all about! lol).

It was the sweetest thing.

More than anything, it encouraged me.  And, oh, how I've needed encouragement like this lately!  It brightened my heart to know that, even with the everyday struggles we still endure (to the point where I worry he will never "get it!"), I have proof in my hands that he IS learning and he IS getting it!  He's getting the big picture, that people can love each other even when they don't agree.  He understands forgiveness and reaching out to someone even if they've made you mad by sending you to bed early or whatever! ;)

That's big!  He's absorbing the big ideas first, I guess, and the day-to-day, moment by moment living out of his beliefs is progressing with time, surely. I can insist that LM obeys me, but I can't change anything about his heart, his motivation for obeying--which is what God cares about!  Which is what only God can change.  Robotic obedience does not glorify the Lord.

Oh, how I needed that reassurance that God is working.

Oh, how I needed that song from the heart! :)

Please Don't Go

My sisters; my dearest friends:

Betsy, Amy, Mary, Julie

Please don't go!  It's much too soon!

Betsy, Amy

You just got here, right?

When we all lived in the same house as girls, I didn't think to appreciate you like I do now.  I'm so sorry for any and all time I wasted on petty arguments and catty comments.

Mary

You know what they say about hindsight.

I wish you could stay just a little longer . . . or a lot!

"Candid" lol

I wish our kids could hang on to those cousin moments and never let them go.  Ever.

I wish we could all live together in a huge mansion.

"Candid"  Mmm hmm!

Or maybe not.  For now.

God has us where He wants us for His purposes, for this time.  May we each continue to serve Him and grow where He has planted us!

Queens of "Candid"  Yeah! :)

But someday, while we're waiting our turns to talk to Adam and Eve and Noah and Moses and Daniel and Mary Magdalene and Jesus Himself, we will have endless days to visit and catch up and remember and celebrate.

If we even care about all that in the presence of our Savior.

Goofy girls!

For now we will talk and see each other when we can, and we will stay close at heart as always.

Hee hee!

Kindred spirits.

Wow.

And here's to the couple who started it all, who raised a loving, God-serving family, and who always share in the laughter and tears!

Mom & Dad :)

Gallery Time!! :)

Zoey

Amy and Emily

 

Shane, Little Mister & Danny playing Wii in "Boy Cave" at Grammy's :)

Zoey and Aunt Betsy :)

Aunt Linda & Uncle Dave

Shane

Scott (Mary's hubby) and Amy getting ready for a run

Emmy and Zack enthusing over the cupcakes for the Hulse Cousins B-day Party

The Hulse version of "Happy Birthday" is always stellar (as loud & off-key as possible!)

My oldest niece, Hannah

Zoey & Hannah

The tallest & the smallest--Grampy & Zoey

Danny--he was a bit "camera shy." ;)

Zack

Sharing secrets. :)

And a video or two for my sisters (hilarious to watch, but heartfelt nonetheless):

A Dust Bunny and a Star

God said to Abraham, "I will make your offspring like the dust of the earth, so that if anyone could count the dust, then your offspring could be counted." Genesis 13:16

God also said to Abraham, at a later time, "Look up at the heavens and count the stars--if indeed you can count them. . .So shall your offspring be." Genesis 15:5

So, Abraham couldn't even see every speck of dust or star in the sky that represented all his offspring, or descendants. Galatians 3 tells us that we as believers are sons of Abraham because of our faith. That means that perhaps his feet once trod on the speck of dust that represented ME! Or YOU! Better-sounding than a dust bunny, maybe on a long-ago evening, as Abraham gazed into a sky filled with shiny lights, he saw the very star representing ME! Or YOU!

Give yourself a minute to think about that! It's amazing, really.

We also learn in the New Testament, that Abraham's faith was credited to his "account" as righteousness. Though he did unrighteous things, his FAITH made him righteous in God's eyes. And, as believers and sons of Abraham, the same thing happens to us when we believe. We are so imperfect and do so many wrong things, but our FAITH is credited to us as righteousness just like Father Abraham! What a splendid work of Jesus! What He did was so complicated and has so many layers to it. But our part is simple. Just faith. We have nothing of our own to offer Him, but He gives us everything. WOW!

Of course, once we have that faith, we are responsible to live it out, amen? That's where it can become complicated for us. Our selfish nature wants to take over and puts up a good fight! But we are told that faith without works is dead. The works don't save us, but they are to be an evidence of our faith.

Is there something you have been feeling you should change? Do you feel a nudging from the Lord to do something you don't feel like doing or that you think is too hard? Is there a person who is difficult to love that you need to contact and encourage? Let's remember that our lives are really not about us. We were made to glorify the Lord! Let's be willing to be a Dust Bunny if necessary, even if we'd rather be a Star!

Less of me; more of You, Lord.

Desperate!!

Oh, my goodness, I sometimes have become SO very upset with my precious son over the years.  I mean, really, really upset!

Not that I haven't had reasons for concern, don't you know.  Certainly it is in my job description to help my charge learn to avoid the wayward ways and coach him along to the paths of righteousness.  Now, as I've shared before, I'm working on doing so in gentle ways.

But sometimes I haven't felt gentle.  I have felt frantic!  Desperate!

It finally hit me the other day what my problem is.  I'm trying to be the Holy Spirit to my child.  Time is flying by and I have felt like it's totally up to my husband and me to make sure Little Mister is the way he's supposed to be by the time he leaves our nest.  Not that I haven't given credit to the Lord for His work so far, but I have added a burden to myself that God never intended. 

It's not so much that my approach has been all wrong (though there's always room to learn and improve!), but the desperation I feel when Little Mister doesn't "get it" in my timing is not from God, and it often leads me to feel irritated or annoyed or some kind of upset which, though I try not to show it, I'm sure shows at times. 

The truth is that there is no need to feel desperation.  My job is to be faithful, to do the time-consuming, sometimes heart-wrenching stuff that God has asked me to do--supporting him in prayer constantly, teaching him to study God's Word, trying to be a good model for him, remaining consistent, remembering to praise the good, not making bad behavior worth it (allowing him to suffer consequences), balancing accountability and mercy (oooo, that's so hard to know how to do sometimes!) . . . the list of Mom's Jobs goes on of course . . .

But the results are out of my hands.  They are between LM and his God.  No room for desperation there.  I simply (?) need to let go of that and trust . . .

In Christ Alone

If you're confused by the new name and look of this blog, see this post. :)

I was listening to the Owl City version of this song and was once again very moved by it.  Thought I'd share these powerful lyrics tonight.

In Christ alone my hope is found;
He is my light, my strength, my song;
This cornerstone, this solid ground,
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm.
What heights of love, what depths of peace,
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease!
My comforter, my all in all—
Here in the love of Christ I stand.

In Christ alone, Who took on flesh,
Fullness of God in helpless babe!
This gift of love and righteousness,
Scorned by the ones He came to save.
Till on that cross as Jesus died,
The wrath of God was satisfied;
For ev'ry sin on Him was laid—
Here in the death of Christ I live.

There in the ground His body lay,
Light of the world by darkness slain;
Then bursting forth in glorious day,
Up from the grave He rose again!
And as He stands in victory,
Sin's curse has lost its grip on me;
For I am His and He is mine—
Bought with the precious blood of Christ.

No guilt in life, no fear in death—
This is the pow'r of Christ in me;
From life's first cry to final breath,
Jesus commands my destiny.
No pow'r of hell, no scheme of man,
Can ever pluck me from His hand;
Till He returns or calls me home—
Here in the pow'r of Christ I'll stand.

"In Christ Alone"
Words and Music by Keith Getty & Stuart Townend
Copyright © 2001 Kingsway Thankyou Music

Here's a video:

A Romantic Cry/"By the Way, I Love You." (A post with two titles)

While writing yesterday's A Cry in the Kitchen post, my thoughts went off on a tangent for a few minutes.  Here are the contents of that tangent . . . :)

© Photography by Cathleen Tarawhiti 2007 - 2012

Why can't I have a romantic cry once in awhile?  You know, like in the movies or in books, where a girl can wade on a sandy shore while she cries, or lie on a lofty tree branch, or stroll a grassy meadow, surrounded by sweet-smelling wildflowers?

I'd settle for escaping to the shade of the apple trees in our "back 40" on a sunny spring day, apple blossoms showering their fragrant petals over my face to wipe away my tears . . .

. . . or whatever.

But, no.  When I have a chance to cry at all, it's usually at the most inopportune times, when some straw or another has broken the camel's back, and there's no time or opportunity to choose a location.  While washing dishes, while sorting laundry, while teaching my son long division or sentence diagramming.  It's never "right."  It's never dramatic in a good way.

I did have a perfectly romantic cry once in my life.  And it wasn't just romantic in the sense of imaginative or impractical, but it involved a boy-girl romance-romance!

Yes, I was in college and spending lots of time with Kevin (my now-husband for anyone who didn't know!).  We sat on a bench or a ledge somewhere on/near a beach in Chicago, the waters of Lake Michigan meeting the sky in the distance, the wind blowing through my hair (um, I had an asymmetrical hairstyle at the time, and the only part long enough to move around with the wind was the front--no full head of shiny locks to float on the breeze, but still!).  On the other side of me, the city lights twinkled and winked, and their beauty seemed to exist just for our sake.

I don't remember the small talk that preceded these words, but I remember the important part.

"I love you," said he.

And then I cried.  It was like we were the only two people in the world, and it was the first time I cried in front of him.  It wasn't that I didn't love him.  I did very much.  But, for some weird reason, I couldn't bring myself to say it out loud.  I had misused that word "love" too many times.  I knew Kevin was the real thing and that scared me senseless for awhile!  I was afraid of true love, afraid I would fail.  I didn't know how to deal with true love.  I knew I had to treat it differently than the game-playing and attempts to control others that I had been guilty of before.

I loved him, but I just couldn't bring myself to say so.

I'll never forget how he swung down from the bench, got down on one knee so he could see me face-to-face, and kindly asked, "What's wrong?" in the quietest, most tender of voices.  He took my hand and just waited patiently for me to finish crying (like he has so many times since).  If he was unsettled by my tears, he never showed it.  He brushed my hair from my eyes a time or two and whispered a compassionate encouragement every now and then.

I cried mainly because I didn't know what was wrong with me.  Why could I not verbalize what was in my heart to the only one those words had ever truly applied?  I had easily said them before when I only thought they meant something.  Now they really did, and I couldn't utter them.

I wonder how he felt that night.  I haven't asked him if he even remembers it.  I think of it every few years or so, but I never remember to ask him that question.  I'll bet I will now, though. :)

Obviously, the story doesn't end there.

A few days later, he called me right before being wheeled to the health center because of a dangerously high fever and severe abdominal pain.  It turned out he had food poisoning and would be fine, but I didn't know that at the time.  I met him there as he arrived and was shocked at the green tint to his face.  I hadn't realized people could really look green!  I so wanted to say, "I love you!" as the nurse pushed his wheelchair toward the mysterious, unseen back rooms.  I wondered if he was going to die without knowing how I felt.

The "mean" nurse wouldn't let me back to see him, so I wrote a note, which she agreed to take to him.  I wrote all kinds of things about how I hoped he would feel better quickly and that I would be praying for him.  Then, as if an afterthought, on the bottom of the paper I wrote, "By the way, I love you."  We laugh about that all these years later (that was 24 years ago!!).

So, yeah, it was kind of a back-handed way, but it was a start!  After that, I had no trouble saying those words, except, over the next several years of our engagement and new marriage, when I would withhold those words out of anger, to "make a point."

Now, I still become angry sometimes, but I can't ever withhold those words.  In fact, though I say them to him several times every day, I make an extra effort to make sure I say them when I'm angry.  I've learned that love certainly doesn't end because of a disagreement.  The only thing that causes love to end is when one or both people allow it to.  Period.

So, anyway, I should be grateful I've had a romantic cry in my lifetime:  romantic setting, romantic circumstances, romantic outcome.  I'll remember that the next time I'm blubbering as I'm cleaning the toilet or folding laundry, and wishing I could escape to the apple trees. ;)

Chopsticks

Last night we had a couple of Little Mister's friends join us for dinner, sort of last minute.  I tried to think of a way to stretch the chicken I had out a little further and decided to make my own recipe for chicken lo mein (Chinese chicken and noodles, which, for me, is less of a recipe and more of a throwing together of certain ingredients in uncertain amounts).  Little Mister L.O.V.E.S. when I make chicken lo mein.

Another thing LM loves is to use chopsticks.  And not just for Asian food.  Anything with pasta or rice is fair game as far as he is concerned.  As I was dishing up the food last night, LM pulled out a pair of chopsticks for himself, and, as soon as his friends saw them, they asked if they could use some, too.  LM happily obliged.  (Is it normal to have eight or so pairs of non-disposable chopsticks in one's household?  I have a set of them in a pretty box that my mom brought back from China, and they are well-used!)

To watch the three kids use their chopsticks and hear their giggles and comments was a delight.  One of the friends was using both hands, a chopstick in each, and the other was "chopsticking" one noodle at a time.  LM has had some experience, but was still doing some funny things.

That scene keeps coming back to me for some reason.  Different people trying to accomplish the same thing in different ways.  Each one with unique ideas on how to make it work.  Had a Chinese native joined us at our table in the middle of the meal, he/she might have been appalled!  Without knowing the background of what was going on . . . well, he/she might have come to some wrong conclusions.

You know, sometimes people are just wrong, and that's all there is to it.  If what they are doing is against the Bible, then there's nothing to call it but sin.  Sometimes, though, people are just different from us.  They look at life differently, they have different methods of accomplishing things and different gifts to use for God's glory.  This doesn't make them wrong.

We need to be careful to weigh everything against Scripture instead of looking too narrowly through the lenses of our own pride and comfort.

Sometimes even our own children will have something to teach us in their own unique way.  I'm not talking about parents caving in to wrong-doing or faulty thinking.  Again, a child can simply add a new dimension to our set ways of looking, hearing, doing, saying. 

If we're willing.

We need to be careful.

"Just Whisper my Name in Your Heart..."

Awhile back in our dark, stuffy attic, we found a folded yellowed paper, parchment-style, which made a crackly sound when I unfolded it to read its contents.

A detailed pencil-sketch of an eagle appears at the top left quarter of the page.  Its talons stretch out and downward, as though ready to grasp something below.  The lower half of the paper contains these hand-written words:

And if I go, while you're still here, know that I live on, vibrating to a different measure, behnd a veil you cannot see through.  You will not see me, so you must have faith.  I wait for the time when we can soar together again, both aware of each other.  Until then, live your life to its fullest and when you need me, just whisper my name in your heart.  I will be there.

This lovingly-made document is addressed to no one, but is signed, "Joe."

 Oh my word!  Can you imagine all the possible stories behind this?