Kirkhaven Pathways

New Kirkhaven Farm Blog!

2012-01-29T14:33:00.002-05:00

Spring of 2012 will be a time of new beninnings for me. Kirkhaven Farm has 4 calves due in March/April. Another one is due in August. And our young bull, Reuben, begins his career as Kirkhaven Farm Herd Sire. In honor of the new things the Lord is doing in my life, I have begun a new blog called "Kirkhaven Farm." Here's the link

http://kirkhavenfarm.blogspot.com/

There is so much to write about and to share. The Lord is blessing our little ridge-top farm abundantly! Dexter cattle, Australorp chickens, apple orchard, heirloom gardens with a winter greenhouse, wild and cultivated fruit, and the beginnings of a bass pond fill our days with the adventures and mis-adventures of family farming. I do some canning and will soon try my hand at making soap from the rich Dexter milk our endearing cow Moo gives us each morning. Visit Kirkhaven Farm's blog to keep updated on our latest endeavors. Or better yet, come see us! We are both humbled by and delighted with the new thing the Lord is doing in our lives. Perhaps He wants to do something new in your life too . . .

See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.
Isaiah 43:19 (NIV)

Knowing

2011-12-08T10:02:00.001-05:00

I lovemorning's quiet lull, before the noise and bustle of daily living rushes in.

The simplesilence of walking to the barn in the dark.

The soothingrhythm of milking my sweet cow Moo.

Theuncomplicated routine of greeting chickens, opening barn doors, and filling watertroughs.

Every dawn,

as therising sun pours warm rays across Kirkhaven’s eastern pasture,

it feelslike a fresh new miracle

that I amhere.

Things feelright and good on the farm in the morning.

Two yearsago, my husband and I would have never dreamed that we would be mucking stalls,chatting with UT agriculture specialists about pasture maintenance, andordering bovine vaccinations online. Whowould have ever THOUGHT that WE would be farmers? My husband is an architect. I am a teacher. What did we know about gardening andgreenhouses and cows and chickens and pastures and wells and ponds?

Nothing.

We knewnothing.

But Godknows everything.

He knew thatwe were broken and grieving.

He knew thatwe were afraid to move ahead . . . in any direction.

He knew thatwe would absolutely thrive doing the very thing that we never imagined.

And He knewthat stepping into the unknown . . .

strugglingwith doubt and fear until hope is born . . .

dependingupon Him because resources were too small and the task was too big . . .

hearing thestill, small Voice of His Wisdom and His Truth above a daily din of continuousclatter . . .

studyinghard . . .

working hard. . .

praying hard. . .

restinggratefully in the goodness of His wondrous, amazing grace . . .

was what wewere BORN to do.

The learningcurve has been very steep. There havebeen days when we wondered if it would work out at all. We have made mistakes. We have seen hardships. We have been disappointed. But building Kirkhaven Farm has beengood.

Verygood.

There issomething poignant . . . something rich and life-giving and real . . . about drawingsustenance from the land. I have always understoodthat eggs came from chickens. I realizedthat milk and beef came from cows. I appreciatedthe fact that fruits and vegetables I bought at the store were grown in agarden or orchard somewhere. Butacademic facts have grown to a different kind of “knowing” as I have collectedeggs from chickens I raised from hatchlings, canned jellies and jams fromfruits I picked myself, eaten fresh garden vegetables that I grew from seeds,and enjoyed a cold glass of creamy goodness from my hand-milked cow Moo.

“Knowingabout” is sterile and academic. It canbe gained through study. Throughmentoring. Through meditative revelation. It can earn you fame and fortune. It can cause others to be jealous of what youhave gained. But it cannot give you thevital, real kind of life that truly knowing offers.

“Knowing” .. . instead of “knowing about” . . . is very, very precious.

The touchingkind of knowing.

Thedirt-on-your-hands and poop on your boots kind of knowing.

The laboringover and laboring with and laboring because-of kind of knowing.

The costlykind.

The intimatekind.

Like Godknows us.

His birth ina stall.

His childhoodin a small town.

His workwith His father as a carpenter.

His ministryon the dusty roads and lake shores and hillsides and big cities of Israel.

His death ona cross.

Thebeen-there-done-that-have-the-scars kind of knowing.

The realkind of knowing.

As I goabout my daily chores at Kirkhaven, stewarding the bounty that lives and growshere, it is becoming very real to me how very shallow knowledge is . . . buthow very deep knowing is. One of myfavorite Bible verses often drifts through my heart and mind as I work:

Be still(cease striving), and know that I am God;

I will beexalted among the nations,

I will beexalted in the earth.

The LordAlmighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Selah

Psalms46:10-11

I have oftencommented about how my quiet, farming lifestyle has helped me enter into the “bestill” part of that verse. Nothing elseI have ever done has helped “still” my heart more than farming. But now I am seeing that farming has helpedme enter the “knowing” part of that verse too.

Be still. Cease the hand-wringing striving that is bornof faithlessness.

Andknow. Thedirt-on-your-hands-and-poop-on-your-boots kind of intimate participation in God’sKingdom life.

I know mychickens.

I know mycows.

I know thedark, rich dirt of my vegetable garden.

But to knowGod . . . intimately and deeply and richly . . . to touch Him . . . and to work alongside Him . . . even when it's messy or hard . . . is the greatest treasure of all.

Relevance

2011-09-01T15:04:00.002-04:00

If you arelooking for relevancy, you can find it. You can buy it from many willing vendors.

But if youare looking for God, relevancy is a trap.

There. I have said it. Simple, clean, and dangerous. But there isn’t any sense in dancing aroundthe issue. Christianity is not aboutrelevancy, it is about relationship. Onerelationship. A relationship with God. And this relationship with the Creator of Allis not amenable to being brokered by relevancy.

amenablemeans: being open to . . . agreeablewith . . . submissive under

brokeringmeans: working as an intermediarybetween two parties . . . negotiating bargains and

contracts . . . defining thestipulations under which two parties will function and relate

God is not opento working through the opinions, expectations, or desires of intermediaries.

God is not agreeablewith negotiating bargains and contracts with cultural correctness, lifescenarios, or personal preferences.

God is not submissiveunder stipulations placed upon Him by doctrines, revelations, experiences, orcreeds.

God is not amenableto the brokering of my faith.

And Godnever bows to the will or the demands of relevancy.

OswaldChambers explains the brokering of faith in this way:

One of themost striking features in Abraham’s life is its irrelevancy. . . The greatestthing in Abraham’s life is God, not “Abraham-ism.” The whole trend of his life is to make usadmire God, not Abraham . . . If you get off on the line of personal holinessor Divine healing or the Second Coming of Our Lord (or seeker-friendly servicesor crusades against legalism or mystic revelations of grace or unconditionalacceptance of “alternate lifestyles,” I would add) and make any of these yourend, you are disloyal to Jesus Christ.

So the realquestion, I might suggest, is where do we hang our hearts?

There . . .at the place where we broker all of our hopes, dreams, relationships, andsecurities . . . on that hook that carries everything dear to us . . . is wherewe find relevancy.

Is ourrelevancy in God alone?

Ceasestriving and know that I am God;
I will be exaltedamong the nations,
I will be exaltedin the earth.
The Lord ofhosts is with us;
The God ofJacob is our stronghold.
Selah.
Psalms 46:10-11

My soul, waitin silence for God only,
For my hopeis from Him.
He only is myrock and my salvation,
Mystronghold; I shall not be shaken.
On God my salvationand my glory rest;
The rock ofmy strength, my refuge is in God.
Trust in Himat all times, O people;
Pour outyour heart before Him;
God is arefuge for us.
Selah.
Psalms62:5-8

I am afarmer. I spend my days tending thegarden, feeding the livestock, and stewarding what the Lord has so graciouslygiven me. We often have guests atKirkhaven, and we enjoy the opportunity to share the Lord’s goodness withpeople He brings to us. It is rare,however, that anyone would ever see the fruit of my labor or think to admirethe work of my hands.

But when Igreet my mooing cattle each morning as they wait impatiently for my attention .. . when I weed and water my never-completely-manicured heirloom garden . . . when I pet every hen as she sits on the roosteach evening before I collect the eggs . . . whether I have cooked dinner forguests or only shared a meal with my dear husband . . . I know that I amcompletely relevant.

Not becausesomeone “liked” my status on Facebook that day. Not because someone gave my blog a glowing review. Not because I was attractive or hot or wittyor talented or noticed. Not because anybroker of any group or viewpoint or church thinks that I am special or anointedor noteworthy.

I know thatI am relevant because I have walked with God today. We have fellowshipped. He rejoiced with me . . . or cried with me .. . or supported me when I struggled . . . or forgave me when I repented . . .or simply filled my daily tasks with the fragrance and joy of His sweetpresence.

HE is myrelevance.

I rest myheart in Him.

photo by Sally Coad

Obscurity

2011-06-15T16:57:00.003-04:00

Have you ever done something just for the glory of it . . . because it is beautiful . . . because it expresses wonder and creativity . . . sensing that it brings joy to God . . . even if no one else sees it . . . or ever will?

Our friend Rob sowed these kinds of ruminations into my heart as we sat beside a babbling brook in Elkmont. It was dark . . . “in the hollers of the hills” kind of dark. We had come to watch the synchronous firefly display that happens every spring in the Smoky Mountain National Park. We were sitting on the ground, in a quiet spot, away from the noisy tourists, shielded from the moon’s bright rays by a steep hill of tall trees. Small clusters of people were watching with us, speaking only in hushed whispers if they spoke at all.

“This was happening here before people ever saw it or knew about it,” Rob whispered in a quiet sense of awe, “even when no one could enjoy it but God Himself.”

In a society that is obsessed with broadcasting everything to anyone and everyone allllll the time, the idea of NOT sharing something . . . of a wonderful event happening in complete seclusion . . . was an intriguing idea for me. What an improbability! Wouldn’t it be wasteful, and maybe even wrong, for a wonderful thing to exist in obscurity?

Publicity seems like a necessity. Things must be you-tubed. They must be podcasted and tweeted and cable news-ed. They must be “put out there” so they can be given an opportunity to go viral and spread world-wide.

Must something be public for it to be valuable?

Does everything have to be done in “community” for it to have merit and worth?

Do we need fanfare and “like” buttons and bragging blogs and trusty followers and notoriety to have lives that are significant and good?

If so, then our mandate is clear. We must be faithful to log and blog and tweet and greet regularly. We must develop a public persona that is entertaining, witty, interesting, and . . . at the very least . . . current and up-to-fad. It would be a shame . . . and might even be a public sin . . . to do anything less than live out loud. And, of course, we should also keep a close watch on our own youth/hotness level. It would certainly be wrong to assault the modern world with a personal self that isn’t as youthful and or as hot as we can possibly conjure.

But what if living out loud isn’t always good? Or always necessary?

As I sat by that wooded mountain creek last weekend . . . listening to the water . . . watching the fireflies . . . in a place so dark that I could only recognize people by the sound of their shushed voices . . . I began to ponder the beauty of solitude. And quietness. And even of obscurity.

So much of history . . . human history and natural history . . . has been witnessed by God alone. Who else was there at the creation of the stars, cheering God on? Who else saw the initial overflowing of the earth’s first waterfalls? Or the sculpting of the Grand Canyon? Or the emergence of the very first robin from its baby-blue egg? Or the hidden birth of Jesus the Messiah in an unremarkable animal barn? Were any of these events any less spectacular or any less important because crowds weren’t there to witness them . . . or to “like” them . . . or to forward pictures of them to 300 of their closest “friends?”

And the fireflies . . . have they become MORE awesome since scientists confirmed that Elkmont did indeed have a population of American firefly species “P. carolinus”? Believe it or not, this discovery became world-wide knowledge when a reader of Science News thought it odd that an article she was reading about Asian firefly synchronicity mentioned nothing about the fireflies near her own home. According to atlasobscura.com, she wrote the following letter to a Cornell mathematician:

I am sure you are aware of this, but just in case, there is a type of group synchrony lightning bug inside the Great Smoky Mountain National Park near Elkmont, Tennessee. These bugs “start up” in mid June at 10 p.m. nightly. They exhibit 6 seconds of total darkness; then in perfect synchrony, thousands light up 6 rapid times in a 3 second period before all going dark for 6 more seconds. We have a cabin in Elkmont... and as far as we know, it is only in this small area that this particular type of group synchronized lightning bug exists. It is beautiful.

The Asian fireflies were “discovered” by a Dutch physician in 1680. Our own Elkmont fireflies were “discovered” by the world in 1992. But they have existed . . . in all their wonder and beauty . . . for every traveler and every hiker and every night-time porch sitter for eons . . . right there where God put them. And even when no one was there, they still flashed in perfect synchronization.

Beautiful indeed.

For thus the Lord God the Holy One of Israel, has said,
"In repentance and rest you will be saved,
In quietness and trust is your strength."
But you were not willing . . .
Isaiah 30:15

May we be willing to live a life that indulges in quietness. And even treasures obscurity. We don’t really have to live with an audience of millions to find value and significance. An audience of One is quite enough. He has wonders and joys and amazements to share with those who will dare to step . . . even if for a little while . . . into obscure fellowship with Him.

I challenge you to try it.

Meet with God . . . in complete obscurity . . . just for the glory of it . . . because it is beautiful . . . in all its wonder and creativity . . . knowing that it brings joy to God . . . even if no one else sees it . . . or ever will.

And then, respond to His goodness and grace in complete obscurity. Develop the character necessary to do it without a soul ever knowing . . . except God.

I suspect it will be life-changing.

And truly beautiful.

Psalm 46:10-11

"Be still, and know that I am God;

I will be exalted among the nations,

I will be exalted in the earth."

The Lord Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Selah.

Normalcy Bias and Faith

2011-05-05T10:57:00.006-04:00

Normalcy Bias: Not recognizing the grave, imminent danger of your situation . . . not heeding warning signs . . . not acknowledging precipitative events . . . overfocusing on bits and pieces of collateral elements . . . not taking decisive action when decisive action really matters. Simply acting normal and proclaiming that e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g.i.s.f.i.n.e. . . . and even believing it . . . when things are anything but fine.

People with a Normalcy Bias have a psychological instability. They see the world through dangerous colored lenses. The actions they do not take . . . the words they do not speak . . . and the truth they will not accept result in devastation. To themselves. Or to those they would not rescue.

The most poignant example of a Normalcy Bias at work is the success of Nazi concentration camps within small European communities. Yes, they saw the massive construction efforts down the street. Of course, they could not help but notice the trains coming back and forth through the edge of town . . . trains loaded with many cattle cars . . . that some people in town claimed were loaded with many people. The smoking chimneys, with their acrid smells, could be seen from most dining room windows. But bakers baked their bread. And mothers sent their children to school each morning. And fathers came home from work each evening to listen to the radio. Who knew that they were killing Jews there? Who could even imagine it?

Evil is like that. It hides in normal places. It lives with normal people. Evil feeds upon the normal routines and normal beliefs of normal men and women that pursue their normal dreams with the normal belief that normal efforts will produce normal benefits. Because evil knows that the best place to hide is in plain sight.

Church . . . disciples of the Lord Jesus Christ . . . please hear me when I say this: things are not normal. We are living in perilous times. While we dance on the deck with our BFF’s and relax in opulent dining rooms filled with special guests, the Titanic is sinking.

Perhaps you have felt the deck rumbling underneath your feet from the collision of ice against cold steel. Perhaps you even notice ice chunks scattered across the deck from the railing’s close brush with the mammoth, frozen mountain. Should we now continue on as if everything is normal and fine? Even if others simply turn the music up and insist that we join them in their reverie?

Today is the National Day of Prayer for the United States of America. Today we need to hear God’s call to His people to shake off our Normalcy Bias.

Please hear me.

If you believe that the real battle in Christianity today is between “legalism” and “grace”, you are deceived.

If you believe that the real battle in Christianity today is between rigid judgmentalism and open-armed compassion, you are deceived.

If you believe that the real battle in Christianity today is between Zionism and Islam, you are deceived.

If you believe the real battle in Christianity today is between political conservatism and activist liberalism, you are deceived.

If you believe God’s battlefield is our national economy or natural resource use or protection of mother earth or protection of people’s rights . . . you are deceived.

The enemy is hiding in plain sight. He lives in our churches and our Bible studies. He soothes our consciences with whispers of “grace, grace” and he quietly nudges us to twist our theologies to fit the cultural relevancies of our times. The enemy comforts us with the sweet fellowship of friends who support us and flatter us. He tells us all is well.

But he lies.

The real battle in Christianity today is for our own souls. The battlefield is our own hearts.

The battle is for the very character of God Himself to be formed in us. For the Bible to become a living epistle in all that we think and say and do.

So that the cost of our discipleship to Jesus can be counted wisely and born courageously. So that our faith can shake us free from the Normalcy Bias of the enemy’s religious deceptions.

Because Jesus Christ and the cross of His discipleship are the heart of true Christianity.

“It is not a new gospel we need,” Oswald Chambers has said. “What we want is men who have the grace of their Lord to face the present-day problems with the old Gospel . . . Nominal Christians are often without the ordinary moral integrity of the man who does not care a bit about Jesus Christ; not because they are hypocrites, but because we have been taught for generations to think on one aspect only of Jesus Christ’s salvation, viz. the revelation that salvation is not merited by us, but is the sheer sovereign act of God’s grace in Christ Jesus. A grand marvelous revelation fact, but Jesus says we have got to say ‘Thank you’ for our salvation, and the ‘Thank you’ is that our righteousness is to exceed the righteousness of the most moral man on earth . . . The only way to get out of our smiling complacency about salvation and sanctification is to look at Jesus Christ for two minutes and then read Matthew 5:43-48 and see who he tells us we are to be like, God Almighty, and every piece of smiling spiritual conceit will be knocked out of us forever, and the one dominant note of the life will be Jesus Christ first, Jesus Christ second, and Jesus Christ third . . . When the Son of man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth? We all have faith in good principles, in good management, in good common sense, but who amongst us has faith in Jesus Christ? Physical courage is grand, moral courage is grander, but the man who trusts Jesus Christ in the face of terrific problems of life is worth a whole crowd of heroes.”

I challenge you to look, as Oswald Chambers suggested, at Jesus. At what he taught in Matthew. And at the conviction it brings.

Heavenly Father, I pray that you will rescue us from the curse of a seared conscience. Set us free to feel again. To feel Your conviction for sin. To feel your compassion for the lost. And to feel your Joy for righteous living. May You be formed in us. More of You . . . less of us . . . until You come again.

When Jesus saw the crowds, He went up on the mountain; and after He sat down, His disciples came to Him. He opened His mouth and began to teach them, saying,

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.
Blessed are the gentle, for they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.
Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.
Blessed are those who have been persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are you when people insult you and persecute you, and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of Me. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward in heaven is great; for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you

You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt has become tasteless, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled under foot by men.

You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden; nor does anyone light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house. Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven.

Do not think that I came to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I did not come to abolish but to fulfill. For truly I say to you, until heaven and earth pass away, not the smallest letter or stroke shall pass from the Law until all is accomplished. Whoever then annuls one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, shall be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever keeps and teaches them, he shall be called great in the kingdom of heaven. For I say to you that unless your righteousness surpasses that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.

You have heard that the ancients were told, ' YOU SHALL NOT COMMIT MURDER' and 'Whoever commits murder shall be liable to the court.' But I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother shall be guilty before the court; and whoever says to his brother, ' You good-for-nothing,' shall be guilty before the supreme court; and whoever says, 'You fool,' shall be guilty enough to go into the fiery hell. Therefore if you are presenting your offering at the altar, and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your offering there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother, and then come and present your offering.

Make friends quickly with your opponent at law while you are with him on the way, so that your opponent may not hand you over to the judge, and the judge to the officer, and you be thrown into prison. Truly I say to you, you will not come out of there until you have paid up the last cent.

You have heard that it was said, ' YOU SHALL NOT COMMIT ADULTERY'; but I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lust for her has already committed adultery with her in his heart. If your right eye makes you stumble, tear it out and throw it from you; for it is better for you to lose one of the parts of your body, than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. If your right hand makes you stumble, cut it off and throw it from you; for it is better for you to lose one of the parts of your body, than for your whole body to go into hell.

It was said, ' WHOEVER SENDS HIS WIFE AWAY, LET HIM GIVE HER A CERTIFICATE OF DIVORCE'; but I say to you that everyone who divorces his wife, except for the reason of unchastity, makes her commit adultery; and whoever marries a divorced woman commits adultery.

Again, you have heard that the ancients were told, ' YOU SHALL NOT MAKE FALSE VOWS, BUT SHALL FULFILL YOUR VOWS TO THE Lord.' But I say to you, make no oath at all, either by heaven, for it is the throne of God, or by the earth, for it is the footstool of His feet, or by Jerusalem, for it is THE CITY OF THE GREAT KING. Nor shall you make an oath by your head, for you cannot make one hair white or black. But let your statement be, 'Yes, yes' or 'No, no'; anything beyond these is of evil.

You have heard that it was said, ' AN EYE FOR AN EYE, AND A TOOTH FOR A TOOTH.' But I say to you, do not resist an evil person; but whoever slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other to him also. If anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, let him have your coat also. Whoever forces you to go one mile, go with him two. Give to him who asks of you, and do not turn away from him who wants to borrow from you.

You have heard that it was said, ' YOU SHALL LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOR and hate your enemy.' But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven; for He causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? If you greet only your brothers, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same?

Therefore you are to be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.

Matthew 5:1-48

For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation to all men, instructing us to deny ungodliness and worldly desires and to live sensibly, righteously and godly in the present age, looking for the blessed hope and the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior, Christ Jesus, who gave Himself for us to redeem us from every lawless deed, and to purify for Himself a people for His own possession, zealous for good deeds. These things speak and exhort and reprove with all authority. Let no one disregard you.

Titus 2:11-15

May the Water of Your Word wash us and examine us and change us.

Nail-Scarred Hands

2011-04-19T15:15:00.002-04:00

The sun peers down onto my small ridge-top farm from a cloudless, blue sky . . . wrapping the afternoon in a soft blanket of April warmth. In a few weeks, we will need shade and cold glasses of iced tea to sit on our back patio: Tennessee summers are hot, hotter, and hottest. But right now, gentle sunshine coaxes everything and everyone outside . . . out from Kirkhaven’s dark garden soil . . . out from the stone and brick walls of winter’s sabbatical . . . out into the open, rolling hills of a Kirkhaven spring.

Songbirds, each with their unique melody and refrain, chatter happily from the newly leafed branches of oaks, maples, and poplars surrounding Kirkhaven’s hillside meadows.

A nippy breeze, unwilling to completely relinquish winter’s chilly bite, smells fresh and rich as it skips across the eastern garden. Lilac and lavender and rosemary. Rain-washed soil and lime-green vegetable sprouts. Like soothing aromatherapy, it tempts me to slow down, shush my soul, and simply sit awhile.

It is peaceful here.

I glance at the dirt under my fingernails . . . I am not a fan of gardening gloves . . . and my meandering thoughts are suddenly redirected to a vivid mental image: I see hands. Not my hands. Hands of Another.

I see the rough, work-worn hands of a carpenter. Young hands appearing much older than their 33 years. Scarred and calloused from years of shaping crudely sawn lumber into useful, beautiful things.

Hands brave enough to point a bold finger at institutional corruption.
Compassionate enough to touch the sick and broken with tenderness and healing.
Wise enough to show the way to Truth.
Gentle enough to hold the smiling face of a child.

Hands capable of great strength and great artistry and selfless service . . . but possessing no power to stop the lashes of the soldier’s whip.

Hands once bound by cruel ropes of injustice . . . now cut free . . . so they could be nailed to the beam of a crucifix.

Hands raised . . . willingly, in complete surrender . . . accepting the punishment for vile, dark crimes they did not commit.

Why did I think of this right now?
Such strange juxtapositions:
refreshing breezes and hot lashes of a whip . . .
lyrical bird songs and rhythmic hammer blows of spikes into wood . . .
the fresh, new life of spring and the slow, agonizing death of crucifixion . . . why?

Because the sacrifice bought the serenity.
The grace of God on this small ridge-top farm is very costly indeed.

I have quoted this passage from Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s book The Cost of Discipleship before. But it is so greatly on my heart that I want to quote it again:

Cheap grace is the deadly enemy of our Church. We are fighting today for costly grace. Cheap grace means grace sold on the market like cheapjacks’ wares. The sacraments, the forgiveness of sin, and the consolations of religion are thrown away at cut prices. Grace is represented as the Church’s inexhaustible treasury, from which she showers blessings with generous hands, without asking questions or fixing limits. Grace without price; grace without cost! The essence of grace, we suppose, is that the account has been paid in advance; and, because it has been paid, everything can be had for nothing. Since the cost was infinite, the possibilities of using and spending it are infinite...

Cheap grace means the justification of sin without the justification of the sinner. Grace alone does everything, they say, and so everything can remain as it was before. “All for sin could not atone.” . . . Well, then, let the Christian live like the rest of the world, let him model himself on the world’s standards in every sphere of life, and not presumptuously aspire to live a different life under grace from his old life under sin.... Cheap grace is the grace we bestow on ourselves...

Costly grace is the treasure hidden in the field; for the sake of it a man’ will gladly go and sell all that he has. It is the pearl of great price to buy which the merchant will sell all his goods. It is the kingly rule of Christ, for whose sake a man will pluck out the eye which causes him to stumble, it is the call of Jesus Christ at which the disciple leaves his nets and follows him.

Such grace is costly because it calls us to follow, and it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ.

It is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life.

It is costly because it condemns sin, and grace because it justifies the sinner.

Above all, it is costly because it cost God the life of his Son: “ye were bought at a price,” and what has cost God much cannot be cheap for us. Above all, it is grace because God did not reckon his Son too dear a price to pay for our life, but delivered him up for us. Costly grace is the Incarnation of God...

Grace is costly because it compels a man to submit to the yoke of Christ and follow him; it is grace because Jesus says: “My yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

This stunningly beautiful Kirkhaven afternoon leaves me awestruck.

The scented breezes . . . the lyrical birdsongs . . . the inspiring vistas . . . and the nail-scarred Hands.

The Lord . . . He is the One that amazes me.
The One who smiles at the dirt under my fingernails.
And bids me to labor with Him for a while.
And knows the cost . . . and promises the treasure is worth it all.

For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation to all men, instructing us to deny ungodliness and worldly desires

and to live sensibly, righteously and godly

in the present age,

looking for the blessed hope

and the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior,

Christ Jesus,

who gave Himself for us

to redeem us from every lawless deed,

and to purify for Himself a people for His own possession,

zealous for good deeds.

These things speak and exhort and reprove with all authority.

Let no one disregard you.

Titus 2:11-15

Happy Resurrection Sunday!!

Japan

2011-03-17T13:11:00.002-04:00

I received a new revelation of grace this week. It has left me silent and still to the core.

I saw the satellite photos of the cataclysmic damage caused by Japan’s earthquake and tsunami. I heard the news reporters talk about long lines at gas stations and barren grocery store shelves. I listened to scientists discuss the possibility of radiation contamination from Japan’s damaged nuclear reactors. I shook my head. I prayed for Japan.

But I didn’t cry . . . until I saw the father crying.

It was a short video clip of a father and mother . . . probably about my age . . . navigating precariously through piles and piles of rubble. The father was calling out . . . desperately . . . achingly . . . with his hands cupped around his mouth. Calling for his son, hoping to find life in the midst of total devastation. As he paused to lean against the side of a wall that was still standing, he began to sob.

That’s when I cried.

The agony and deep mourning of that father’s cry was heartrending. It was so raw. So real. So inconsolable.

I immediately thought of the scriptures in Genesis chapter 3. It is the description of God walking in the garden after His relationship with His beloved children had been devastated:

They heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden. Then the Lord God called to the man, and said to him, "Where are you?"

I know I wasn’t there on that day in Genesis. I know I didn’t hear the Lord’s voice as He called out to his son. But as I pondered that short piece of scripture, I saw that Japanese man’s countenance in my heart. I don’t believe God’s question . . . “Where are you? . . . was a casual query. I believe it was a gut-wrenching cry of horrible, tragic loss. Like the sobbing cry of the searching Japanese father.

“Where . . . are . . . youuuuu??”

God knew where his children were. But the reality was too horrendous and too raw to even grasp. They were there . . . in their spiritually shaken garden home. Lost. Hidden. Buried beneath the horrendous rubble of sin and rejection that had quaked the earth to its core. Dead to Him, unless a miracle of resurrection could bring them back again. His heartrending cry, “Where are you?” was a cry of deep, fathomless mourning.

One of the most dangerous postures in American Christianity today is the trendy, light-hearted, slightly scholaresque rejection of mourning. Like macabre specters of otherworldly sprites, we dance and sing and shout the freedom of grace as if our own rescue . . . our own resurrection from the rubble of sin and death . . . was nothing more than a silly, bad dream. Deep mourning and gut-wrenching repentance are no longer welcome guests at our parties. It is a strange type of spiritual hedonism that pronounces victories, brags about prosperity, and thumbs its nose at any notion of suffering . . . as it dances upon the very rubble that others are still buried beneath.

The camp of the redeemed has much to celebrate. And much to be eternally grateful for. The right hand of the Lord has gloriously rescued us.

The sound of joyful shouting and salvation is in the tents of the righteous;
The right hand of the Lord does valiantly.
The right hand of the Lord is exalted;
Psalm 118:15-16

But it is only a CAMP . . . not a princely community of opulent palaces.
And we are only sojourners . . . not reigning sovereigns that need petting and spoiling.
And we are living among the stricken ones . . . not sheltered behind gem-studded walls.
And it is God’s Hand that is valiant and exalted . . . not ours.

A campsite of rescued sojourners. Landscaped with the tents of those who have been rescued from unspeakable devastation. Living among stricken victims: even hammering our tent pegs right beside the ancient rubble of horrible human tragedy. Celebrating with those who celebrate. Mourning with those who mourn. Suffering with those who suffer. Known by the name of the One who saved us because we talk like Him and behave like Him and love like Him. Looking to a blessed hope of eternal reconciliation with the One who has rescued us.

THAT is my revelation of grace.

I am thinking that America should get back to basic Christianity. The kind that says:

“It is sin that devastates us. But God loves us and wants a relationship with us. He is the Great Rescuer. And those who are rescued become His disciples.”

Save the fancy theologies and elaborate church growth campaigns and mystic spiritual ecstasies and exclusive clubs of BFF’s for a time that is less desperate . . . less real. Right now, we just need faithful workers with shovels and compassion. We need people who know the job is too big, but who trust a God who is more than enough.

For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 6:23

Please Pass the Gravy

2011-03-10T13:04:00.000-05:00

Default modes are not necessarily a bad thing. We all have them and sometimes we need them. Things in life don’t always pan out the way we want. Sometimes our other modes . . . professional mode, parental mode, religious mode, party mode . . . become insufficient. Default modes, at least, give a person something to fall back on when all hullabaloo breaks loose.

Unless, of course, your default mode is faulty.
Then you might really be in trouble.

Fear doesn’t make a good default mode: it is too doubtful and scary.
Self-centeredness is unadvisable: there are no supportive relationships in it.
Depression and panic fail as functioning systems: you can’t move forward when you can’t move at all. Anger and bitterness close the door on any hope of peace.
Prideful arrogance turns us into untouchable despots.

Good default modes are simple.
Unembellished.
Timeless.
They are based on something outside of ourselves.
They are discernable when everything else is haywire.
And they are a place we can call home . . . we could find ourselves living there for quite a while.

I have been getting a sense lately that it is time for Christians to find their default mode. Scale things down a bit. Shake off all the fluff. Get down to brass tacks. I am really not a doom-and-gloom type of person, but I sense a storm coming. Maybe a big one. And my down-home, southern sensibility tells me that diligently preparing for a storm is better than finding yourself stranded . . . without resources . . . in the midst of it.

Here are some tips I have found helpful in building a default mode that can weather a storm. I have used it a few times. It has served me quite well.

I Don’t Know
There is no shame in not knowing something. Mark Twain says, “It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.” Some of life’s most poignant journeys begin by admitting that you simply don’t understand. And being humble enough to look beyond yourself for answers.

God Is Faithful
Faith in God is as necessary as breathing. And trusting His faithfulness is the most essential element in any default mode.

The 10 Commandments Are Good
There is nothing in the universe more beautiful than the character of God. Everything He stands for and everything He does flows effortlessly from His impeccable character. The 10 commandments were the first written record of God’s Heart and Soul. To stray from their Truth or to in any way demean the power of their revelation is to place your life on a dangerous tangent. Don’t worry if you find them a bit convicting. That’s a good thing. It means that your God-given conscience is still intact . . . and that the Lord can still lead you to repentance. Exodus chapter 20.

The Sermon on the Mount is Truth
It is easy to fall into self-deception when life gets difficult. And the enemy is always there to feed us mystical revelations, confirming “prophetic utterances”, and well-meaning condolences from friends to help us build a case “for” our endangered self interest and “against” those who endanger it. A “them versus us” mentality is very, very dangerous. It is self-aggrandizing in the least. Cultic at its worst. The Sermon on the Mount is a clear description of Godliness that elegantly disassembles the cult of self. You really can’t go wrong to embrace it. Matthew chapter 5.

Right and Wrong Still Exist
There will always be a bit of an outcast in the life of a disciple of Christ. Popularity must always defer to righteousness. We must never become like the world in an effort to win the world. We must never offer a false cup of justification to soothe someone’s pain when repentance is their only real hope. “Therefore, salt is good; but if even salt has become tasteless, with what will it be seasoned? It is useless either for the soil or for the manure pile; it is thrown out. He who has ears to hear, let him hear." Luke 14:34-35

Be Still
Struggling in the company of the Lord brings growth. Striving without Him brings hopelessness. It is good to shush ourselves. Be still. Listen. And wait. These things develop a life-discipline that allows us to hear and believe the One who is soooo not like us . . . but wants us to be soooo like Him.

Maybe I am wrong. Maybe the future is all grace-and-gravy for the disciples of the Lord Jesus. But it still wouldn’t hurt to take a look at our own default modes. We might be needing them . . .

Psalm 46

Wrought

2011-02-19T22:57:00.000-05:00

This is a picture of a bowl my husband and I bought at a pottery shop in the Smoky Mountain craft community. It was handmade by a Native American Indian. He uses red Tennessee clay and crushed Tennessee limestone to make his beautiful pieces. The simple lines and rich colors are, in my opinion, absolutely beautiful.

I love handmade things. I love the time, effort, and creative spirit that are infused in them. I have handmade gifts that I have treasured for more than 40 years.

This particular pottery piece is especially intriguing to me because it bears the unique signature of its maker. Do you see it? Look at the picture again and see if you can see it . . .

See the fingerprints? There near the bottom of the bowl’s right inside curve? I love that. The fingerprint of the maker stamped upon the creation.

I think that’s why I love nature so much. The starry canopy of Kirkhaven’s nighttime sky. The bare, winter limbs of an ancient oak tree beside my bass pond. The tiny seedlings quietly growing in my greenhouse nursery. I see the Lord’s fingerprints in all of these things. And I am continually intrigued by the story and the testimony this Fingerprint speaks.

I also think that’s why I sense such deep gratitude for the people God has brought into my life. Faithful family members who love me through every circumstance and in every season. Generous, compassionate friends who have spent years ministering the Lord’s Truth and Kindness to my heart. I experience my Lord in their words. Their arms. Their steadfast presence. God’s testimony of the power of His Son is astounding when I think of the love they have given to me.

But I feel no compunction to bragg about my home or my testimony or my family or my life circumstances. Because the Fingerprint of the Maker completely eclipses every gift He has given. I will be eternally grateful for His mercy and grace. I will never be able to repay Him for His great love and generosity. But in all of it I see the Fingerprint of God. For me . . . more and more . . . it is all about the Giver, not the gifts.

Everything within me explodes in praise and adoration for the One who is crafting my life. That is where you can find me as I celebrate my 52nd year on this earth. I am in utter awe at the Fingerprint of God.

He is the Giver of all Blessing.
He is the Rescuer in every tragedy.
He is the Sustainer through every trial.
He is my philosophy.
He is my theology.
He is my reward.
And He is my inspiration.

All that I have is gloriously His.
Every person in my life . . . those who hate me and those who love me . . . those who respect me and those who pity me . . . are precious gifts in my quest to follow Him and to become more like Him.

In these autumn years of my earthly sojourn,
it is my deepest prayer and my greatest passion
that every eye . . .
my eyes and the eyes of all who observe life's happinesses and sorrows . . .
will be riveted
to neither any earthly vessel
nor any heavenly blessing,
but to the Potter Himself.

I pray that the Light of Truth will strike my fragile form in such a way that the miraculous, eternal Fingerprints of the Lord of the Universe will be visible.

When I was a child, I used to speak like a child, think like a child, reason like a child; when I became a man, I did away with childish things. For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known. But now faith, hope, love, abide these three; but the greatest of these is love.
1 Corinthians 13:11-13

There is so much I do not know.
I am so very fragile and earthy.

But this one thing is the sum of all my knowledge
and the goal of my every righteous pursuit
and the object of all my praise:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through Him, and apart from Him nothing came into being that has come into being. In Him was life, and the life was the Light of men. The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it.

There was the true Light which, coming into the world, enlightens every man. He was in the world, and the world was made through Him, and the world did not know Him. He came to His own, and those who were His own did not receive Him. But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, even to those who believe in His name, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God.
John 1:1-5, 9-13

"For God so loved the world,that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life. For God did not send the Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through Him. He who believes in Him is not judged; he who does not believe has been judged already, because he has not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God. This is the judgment, that the Light has come into the world, and men loved the darkness rather than the Light, for their deeds were evil. For everyone who does evil hates the Light, and does not come to the Light for fear that his deeds will be exposed. But he who practices the truth comes to the Light, so that his deeds may be manifested as having been wrought in God."
John 3:16-21

To be wrought
in God,
and by God,
is the real treasure indeed.

Chickens Don't Need a Shepherd

2011-02-02T17:21:00.001-05:00

Chickens don’t need a shepherd. They need a rooster.

That’s the pearl of wisdom my husband blessed me with this morning. It is such a rich thought, that I simply had to blog about it. I suspect I will be stepping on a few toes with my ponderings, however.

Eli, the captain of my Kirkhaven Egg Brigade, is a very handsome rooster. His red comb is large and deeply serrated. His long, folded wattles dangle majestically from his chin. His bright black eyes are alert, with an intelligent but slightly suspicious gleam. He has an abundance of beautifully arching tail feathers and a respectable set of rooster spurs. And as Eli traverses the pens and fields of his ridge-top kingdom, he doesn’t just walk . . . Eli struts.

My rooster is a diligent, able provider for his flock of busily-laying hens. He is an excellent forager in the woods behind the barn and easily finds delicious caches of bugs underneath logs or on top of the compost heap. When he chortles happily about a yummy discovery, the girls always come running to his insect buffet. He even steps aside, like a perfect gentleman, so the girls can enjoy the bounty. Eli feeds his girls very well. They depend upon him, and he never lets them down.

Eli is very serious about keeping his flock safe from predators. He is a bit untrusting by nature and never hesitates to gather the girls into a safe corner or protected nook if he gets an unsettled feeling. If he sees imminent danger (a hawk in the sky or a dog on the loose), his loud squawk sends everyone into an immediate scurry for safe cover. Eli is the unchallenged authority on all-things-dangerous. I have never seen any hen hesitate to run when Eli squawks.

He is also quite determined to keep his flock peaceful and orderly. First, he expects the hens to create their own pecking order. Order is achieved when everyone knows their place and no one bucks the system. Secondly, Eli allows no excessive bickering. If squabbles erupt among any disagreeable girls, he simply runs into the midst of the flurry, pecks both offending parties, and the argument is immediately ended.

Eli is careful to keep his small flock in a tightly-knit group. All roosters know that you can’t protect what you can’t easily corral, so he doesn’t let his girls wander too much. He is, however, their “knight in shining armor” if any of them get in a bind. All they have to do is send out a panicked holler and he comes boldly running to their defense . . . wings flapping, head bobbing, spurs at the ready.

He is also is very leery of strangers. He does, however, give people a chance to get on his “trusted” list if they behave in an acceptable way. He isn’t a mean or aggressive rooster, but he does expect a certain amount of decorum and respect. Here are Eli’s "Three Rules of Proper Etiquette:"

#1. Respect the Rooster. Pause before entering the coop, so he can peck your shoes, block your steps, or head-butt your leg to prove his manliness. He will appreciate your role as Farmer if you appreciate his role as Exalted Prince Over All Chickendom.

#2. Do not make exaggerated movements or unexpected loud noises. Nothing irritates a rooster more than trying to calm a flustered group of hens.

#3. Bring treats. It makes him look good in front of the girls. If he can provide delicacies like bananas, Cheerios, or some table leftovers . . . even if by your hand . . . he can keep the girls happy. And happy girls make for a comfortable coop.

The whole system is harmonious and natural. Eli and his girls are thriving in their self-regulated community. This is how healthy, well-adjusted chickens live.

But this isn’t how people should live. And it definitely isn’t how the Kingdom of God should function.

Shout joyfully to the Lord, all the earth.

Serve the Lord with gladness;

Come before Him with joyful singing.

Know that the Lord Himself is God;

It is He who has made us, and not we ourselves;

We are His people and the sheep of His pasture.

Enter His gates with thanksgiving

And His courts with praise.

Give thanks to Him, bless His name.

For the Lord is good;

His lovingkindness is everlasting

And His faithfulness to all generations.

Psalm 100:1-5

We are sheep. The Bible never refers to the people of God as chickens. Men are sheep. Women are sheep. Children are sheep. Even church leaders are sheep.

Sheep don’t strut. They have no pecking order. They are neither self-sufficient nor community-sufficient. And they do not need a rooster: sheep need a Shepherd.

The Lord is my shepherd,

I shall not want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures;

He leads me beside quiet waters.

He restores my soul;

He guides me in the paths of righteousness

For His name's sake.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I fear no evil, for You are with me;

Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;

You have anointed my head with oil;

My cup overflows.

Surely goodness and lovingkindness will follow me all the days of my life,

And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Psalm 23

Frankly, I am astounded by what “passes” as “acceptable” Christian culture today:

“You are so freaking gorgeous”

“My husband is a stud”
“I am hot”
"You are hot."
bawdy humor
sassy personalities
sharp-witted tongues

It seems that God’s people are so busy trying to “out strut” the world that we have lost the true image of what Godliness looks like.

We are so intent upon having
the most relevant,
least restrictive,
enchantingly cleaver,
globally receptive
outward posture,

that we have completely discarded
the simple
inward demeanor
of an obedient disciple.

What has happened to old fashioned morality?
And quiet, Godly living?

Now the deeds of the flesh are evident, which are: immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, outbursts of anger, disputes, dissensions, factions, envying, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these, of which I forewarn you, just as I have forewarned you, that those who practice such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.

Now those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. If we live by the Spirit, let us also walk by the Spirit. Let us not become boastful, challenging one another, envying one another. Galatians 5:19-26

Let the hens squawk if they must.
Let the cocks swagger and crow.
Let passion and noise and arrogance and wit have their place in the coops of the world.

Sheep don’t need a rooster; they need a Shepherd.
They don't perch in coops, they rest in broad, green meadows.
And a strutting lamb simply is obscene.

I think we should stop being afraid or embarrased to say . . .
and to believe . . .

A quieted heart,
a simple life,
and a Godly demeanor
are good things . . .
in the green patures of the Good Shepherd.

In The Midst: Psalm 139

2011-01-10T16:49:00.001-05:00

O LORD, You have searched me and known me.

You know when I sit down and when I rise up;

You understand my thought from afar.

You scrutinize my path and my lying down,

And are intimately acquainted with all my ways.

Even before there is a word on my tongue,

Behold, O LORD, You know it all.

You know it all.
All.

I step into the dawn of this shiny, new year full of hope. Absolutely full to overflowing. Because God knows me. And because I am in the midst of knowing Him.

I do not hold to the “clean slate, fresh-white canvas” theory of new year’s beginnings. My life has never been a mute chalk board and my future is far from a neglected piece of art. I begin the year 2011 with a deep, quiet assurance that the Lord has already gone before me. He has painted, with rich colors and bold strokes, beautiful pathways for me to travel. He has appointed stunning vistas and quiet alcoves to inspire my soul and quiet my listening heart. He has written, with His own Hand, a narrative of blessing and goodness that will follow me along the way. He has prepared noble work and challenging service for my heart and my hands to perform. And if the journey becomes rough or scary, as journeys sometimes do, His own Presence will shelter me and guide me to warmth and rest and safety.

You have enclosed me behind and before,

And laid Your hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;

It is too high, I cannot attain to it.

Where can I go from Your Spirit?

Or where can I flee from Your presence?

If I ascend to heaven, You are there;

If I make my bed in Sheol, behold, You are there.

If I take the wings of the dawn,

If I dwell in the remotest part of the sea,

Even there Your hand will lead me,

And Your right hand will lay hold of me.

If I say, "Surely the darkness will overwhelm me,

And the light around me will be night,"

Even the darkness is not dark to You,

And the night is as bright as the day.

Darkness and light are alike to You.

God knows me more than I know myself. And He loves me more than I could ever love anything or anyone.

For You formed my inward parts;

You wove me in my mother's womb.

I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

Wonderful are Your works,

And my soul knows it very well.

My frame was not hidden from You,

When I was made in secret,

And skillfully wrought in the depths of the earth;

Your eyes have seen my unformed substance;

And in Your book were all written

The days that were ordained for me,

When as yet there was not one of them.

How precious also are Your thoughts to me, O God!

How vast is the sum of them!

If I should count them, they would outnumber the sand.

When I awake, I am still with You.

I can’t tell you what is going to happen in politics this year. I cannot prophecy blessings or disasters or revivals or judgments or economic upheaval or miraculous sustenance upon the people of God or upon the lands in which they dwell. I truly have no idea how this new year will unfold on the world stage.

I don’t even know where my personal journey will take me.

But I do know this one thing. Tomorrow morning, when the winter sun rises over Kirkhaven’s snow-covered brae, God will be there when I awake. His path will be prepared for me to travel. His fellowship will saturate the very air I breathe.

Search me, O God, and know my heart;

Try me and know my anxious thoughts;

And see if there be any hurtful way in me,

And lead me in the everlasting way.

There is truly nothing more beautiful than to be known by God.
And to be in the midst of knowing Him.

If you have a moment, stay with me just a bit longer and listen to the next song . . . and worship with me . . .

I Believe in Christmas

2010-12-24T12:52:00.004-05:00

Who knew? I mean, really, who totally saw this coming??

A virgin married to a simple carpenter.
A nondescript town full of tired travelers . . . who were also pretty fed up with their government.
A stable.
A manger of straw.

Who really expected that?

I suppose Mary and Joseph, devout Jews, had read the ancient predictions of the prophets:
He would be born of a virgin.
He would be born in Bethlehem.
They may have understood in their hearts the magnitude of this Holy Night.

The magi seemed to have an inkling that something momentous was at hand. Their studies of astronomy led them to follow the strange star.

The shepherds on the Bethlehem hillside, tending their flock of sacrificial Passover sheep, were astounded . . . perhaps terrified . . . by the appearance of angels in the night sky. But they willingly obeyed the heavenly command to visit the stable. And they bowed in reverence before their tiny, swaddled king.

Even King Herod believed that a royal birth occurred. He killed thousands of Hebrew infants and toddlers to try to prevent this King from taking His throne.

I guess mankind should have completely expected the humble entrance of their Messiah King. 20-20 hindsight makes it clear that all the signs were there. Ancient prophecies were perfectly fulfilled. Supernatural signs announced His advent. The gates of hell mobilized to prevent His reign.

But I am thinking that not much has changed in more than 2,000 years. God still comes quietly and humbly and, often, secretly. He still places His presence in the hands of every-day people. He still performs miracles and signs and wonders that pretty much go unacknowledged and unappreciated. And the gates of hell still mobilize to prevent His reign in the lives and hearts of mankind.

And we, somehow, still often manage to miss it.

Or misunderstand it.
Or twist it to fit our own agendas and our own satisfaction and our own benefit.
Or ignore it all together.
Or even join the forces of hell to extinguish its light on the earth.

My hope and my prayer this Christmas Eve, is that you . . . that we . . . will not miss Him this year.

May we see Him . . .
even if His coming it is very humble . . .
even if He contradicts our preconceived ideas . . .
even if He interrupts our well-intentioned plans . . .
even if He costs us dearly . . .
even if His benefits don’t seem lofty and grand enough . . .
even if the gates of hell are aligned in battle against Him.

May we live this next year in awe of our Messiah’s intimacy instead of boasting of His favor.
And may be become more like Him in every way.

Even if that means our lives are hidden in Him.
Even if that means we will carry a cross.

"If anyone wishes to come after Me,

he must deny himself,

and take up his cross and follow Me.

For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it;

but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it.

For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world

and forfeits his soul?

Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?"
Matthew 16:24-26

Belief is not an intellectual act; belief is a moral act whereby I deliberately commit myself.

—My Utmost For His Highest Oswald Chambers

I believe in Christmas.

Do you?

Surprises Instead of Agendas

2010-12-14T12:49:00.000-05:00

If I was writing a Christmas List this year, I would put Surprises at the top of my list. I love a really good surprise. The kind that stops you in your tracks . . . leaves you speechless . . . standing in the middle of suspended reality for an unbelievable moment.

I find it interesting and very satisfying, however, that real surprises are nothing like the ones depicted in all of the popular holiday movies. Don’t get me wrong, I love watching holiday movies. I plan to sit in front of our stone fireplace tonight . . . wrapped in my favorite blanket . . . in the company of my husband of 27 years . . . cuddling three small, fluffy poodles . . . sipping hot apple cider . . . and watch a couple of heart-warming Christmas movies. But real-life surprises are so much better than movie ones. Mostly because they are real.

Agendas, I believe, are the evil Archenemy of surprises. Agendas are too predictable. Too explainable and planned. They crowd out serendipity and leave no room for pure, unexpected amazement. They lurk secretly in the dark recesses of our psyche, adding their own twist to everything we do. Agendas insist they are right. They are cocky and overly assertive. They crave conformity. They demand control. Agendas feed off of the praises and discipleship of devoted underlings. And they can be very, very vengeful if they are threatened.

I am not saying that I have no schedules or lists of chores in my life. I live on a farm and we run a family business. There are always things that need to be done and lists of chores that need to be checked off. I am also not saying that I have no dreams or hopes in my life. There are still lots of things I want to learn. Places I would love to visit. Things I would love to do.

I am just saying that I don’t like the lurking menace of agendas. They tend to set up secret idolatries in our hearts that completely squelch the fresh, surprising, unexpected Life of God.

When you have an agenda . . .
a pet belief
or a particularly beloved revelation
or a self-proclaimed system
or a well-orchestrated plan . . .
it inevitably shrinks God.

The agenda requires God to fit a special set of rules. He must comply with certain expectations and He must work within a circumscribed set of parameters. Agendas interpret Biblical Truth in “special” ways that enslave God’s Word to man’s direction and will. Eventually, agendas enslave people too.

I don’t like things that make God small.
God is bigger.
And God is more.
He is bigger than any agenda and more than any religious system.

I want to live an agenda-less life.

I want to wake up every morning and know that my God is so vast that I will never plump beyond the depths of His love nor ascend past the heights of His faithfulness.

I want to look into a manger and see a King.

I want to look at a crown and see a servant.

I want to kneel in submission with a heart that soars on wings of freedom.

I want to succumb to the awe and reverence of a life that has nothing to prove and heaven to gain.

I want to rejoice in the surprise and celebration that comes from simple, daily fellowship with the God that is more than I can ever fully grasp.

Without an agenda, I can be an empty vessel.
Fashioned by the Master Potter.
Filled by the overflowing of a Father’s Heart.
Poured out by the compassionate ministry of nail-scarred Hands.

An agenda-less life is a surprised life.

Perhaps that’s what God had in mind when He sent His son . . . King of Kings and Lord of Lords . . . to be born in the small town of Bethlehem. To a virgin. Into the family of a simple carpenter. Cradled in a bed of straw. Among stable animals. Beneath a brilliant, starry night. Worshipped by shepherds and non-Hebrew magi.

The Treasure of eternity swaddled in commonness.

Surprise indeed.

Concerning Chickens and God and Bold Adventures

2010-12-03T12:51:00.000-05:00

Chickens love bananas. At least MY chickens do. And how did I gain this precious pearl of wisdom? I got it in a moment of inspiration in my kitchen. Then I walked up to the barn and fed them a banana. And they loved it!

Kirkhaven chickens love bananas so much that they will run across the meadow when they see me coming. Have you ever seen a chicken run? It is either hilarious or endearing or a scientific anomaly, depending upon your perspective. Neck stuck waaay out front to enhance the forward motion . . . feet pedaling frantically behind for traction . . . wings poised for flutter-flapping if extra momentum is needed. And if I call them with my patented “chicken call” . . . chick-CHICK-eeeeees (short pause) COME ON . . . they burst into supersonic scurry. It makes me laugh. Every time.

I feel quite sure that if I Googled “chicken treats,” bananas would top the list. Of course, other keepers of farm fowl might surely express other opinions about the chicken palate. And there would probably be some old farmer who would insist that chickens don’t even need treats. But I could, without a doubt, copy and paste some kind of “chickens love bananas” quote from a totally respected source into any intellectual essay I would write about chicken living.

I can state that chickens love bananas with complete confidence. And I can be assured that I am right because others agree with me. And my own life experiences totally back up such a truth. Chickens love bananas. Yours should too. All good farmers feed their chickens bananas.

THIS, my friends, is how heretical teachings creep into the Christian community.

First there is the moment of inspiration . . . revelation.
Then comes the experiential confirmation.
Next the “truth” is sealed with corroborating evidence such as the opinions and experiences of others.
And finally, people are subtly lulled into revelation discipleship by morphing it into a moral imperative.

It happens so very easily. People are looking for inspiration. People are drawn to a supportive, loving community where they can find like-mindedness and like-heartedness. And in a world where tragedy is all too common, people need leaders who are strong and have answers and are passionate.

That’s how cults are born. And that’s how well-meaning churches can get off on a religious tangent. And that’s how precious believers can become confused about Christian living.

The other day I asked my husband, “Exactly what did Jesus purchase for believers at the cross? What does salvation mean for us on a day-to-day basis, here on earth, before the “going to heaven” thing?” This wasn’t a flippant question. I was not looking for a pat answer.

My husband paused for a minute. He knew where the question had come from. A dear friend of ours had just lost their daughter to cancer . . . after years of praying for her healing. Another friend of ours had a daughter who had recently attempted suicide . . . a precious, sweet child who loved the Lord and served Him wholeheartedly. Our own household has been broken and torn from estranged relationships with family members who reject us.

He could have given me an easy answer:
God purchased our freedom from demonic oppression
or our forgiveness of sins
or our health of body, soul, and spirit
or the prosperity to meet all of our physical and financial needs
or the ability to receive revelations into the glories of His grace
or all of the above.

But my husband didn’t say any of that.

He simply said, “God purchased me. All of me. The good and the bad. I belong to Him now. Whatever He wants in my life . . . whatever that looks like . . . that’s what I want. ‘Therefore I urge you, brethren, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual service of worship. And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect.’ “ (scripture reference: Romans 12:1-2)

No need to start a new movement.
No need to revive an old one.
No need for any deeper revelation.
God bought me.
Now I am His.
His Biblical Truth is my truth.

This is servitude in its richest definition and exaltation in its realest form.

To live in
and with
and by
the mercies and grace and lovingkindness and supernatural enablement
of God.

It is a life that is both unfathomable and utterly simple.
It is a life that can only be pursued by faith as it is completely upheld by God Himself.
It is a life that requires the courage and the tenacity of a bold adventurer . . . and the humility and obedience of a faithful bond-slave.

All God.
And all of me.

I know that when I walk up to the barn this afternoon to bring my chickens their banana treat, they will come running. Would your chickens do the same?? I truly have no idea.

Forget about the bananas.
And the revelations of men.

What really matters is this:
Who owns you?
At what price have you been bought?

I love You, O LORD, my strength.

The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer,

My God, my rock, in whom I take refuge;

My shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.

I call upon the LORD, who is worthy to be praised,

And I am saved from my enemies.

Psalm 18:1-3

Beautiful Savior indeed.

Thanksgiving

2010-11-24T14:20:00.000-05:00

The most amazing thing about Thanksgiving is that I enjoy it so much. I love the cooking. I love the eating. I love the fellowship of family and friends. And I love the “giving of thanks” that is at the center of it all. Thanksgiving is a lovely celebration. There is something about this year, however, that is really special. I felt it again last night as I left the house to “put the chickens to bed.”

I enjoy my jaunts to the chicken coop each evening. And now that the days are shorter, it is fully dark by the time I walk up to the barn. Last night was gorgeous. The waning full moon, rising above Kirkhaven’s grassy brae, threw random moon-beams across the wet gravel under my feet. A slight breeze ruffled crispy leaves on the maple trees beside my country driveway. Just a hint of wispy fog drifted through the treetops across the ridge. A twinkly, bronze star Betelgeuse, hanging low in the eastern horizon, announced the arrival of my favorite constellation: Orion the Hunter.

It was chilly outside, but not really cold. I was wearing my favorite pink flannel pajamas and wondered if I should have worn a jacket.

The joy that began trickling into my heart as I walked up the hill to the barn was unexplainable. I wasn't thinking about anything in particular. My day had been fairly unremarkable.

I began to smile. I hummed a favorite hymn. My steps were light . . . unencumbered. I stood underneath autumn’s huge night sky and marveled at its tranquility. I thought about going back to the house to get my husband . . . or phone my son . . . or text my daughter-in-law . . . and encourage them to join me outside. It’s probably dorky, but I have done it before. I just hate for others to miss such beauty. But instead, I raised my hands into the cool night air and exclaimed:

“Ohmygosh! Who can I share this with?”

I heard an answer, believe it or not. The question was meant to be rhetorical, but the answer I received was quietly emphatic. A clear, familiar voice spoke softly in the depths of my startled heart:

“Me. Share it with Me.”

All thoughts and emotions settled into an awe-struck stillness as my small East Tennessee farm became a moon-lit sanctuary. I had been invited to share an astoundingly beautiful nighttime walk with the King of the Universe. I hadn't brought a flashlight, so we walked by the light of a million twinkling stars. Words are not sufficient to describe the wonder I felt.

This year Thanksgiving and Christmas come to Kirkhaven with much celebration. There will be gratitude and joy. There will be decorations all over the house, warm fires at the hearth, and deliciously aromatic goodies baking in the oven. There will be parties and family and friends. We at Kirkhaven are so very, very blessed.

But this year there is something different. There is a fresh breeze of freedom and fellowship here. I am astounded by the calming presence of the Lord Himself. Like He actually wants to walk with us through our rolling meadows and wooded trails. As if He delights to join us in our simple farming chores . . . feeding the chickens . . . tilling the garden soil. It is impossible to feel alone here because He is so very present.

I am becoming more and more convinced, however, that a person cannot experience the rich filling of the presence of God until there is an emptying to make room for Him. If you are full of your own agenda and your own opinions and your own wisdom and your own religiosity and your own well-constructed-well-insulated community of yea-saying friends and family and colleagues . . . then you are full. And a full vessel has no need.

But an empty vessel is very needy. It has such poignant elegance. Unembellished. Unpretentious. It claims ownership of nothing. It is simply waiting. To be filled. To be poured out. And helpless to do neither . . . fully dependent upon the Master’s Hands for everything.

Life doesn’t need fanfare to be exciting. You don’t need religious credentials to experience real encounters with God. And prayers don’t have to be perfectly uttered to be heard.

But you must be empty to be filled.

May the Lord be your treasured guest and ever-present companion this holiday season.

I wait for the Lord, my soul does wait,

And in His Word do I hope.

Psalm 130:5

Not Be Silent

2010-10-08T19:23:00.001-04:00

Sometimes silence is tragic:

Not saying, “I love you.”

Not saying, “I am sorry.”

Not saying, “I miss you.”

Not saying, “My door is always open and my heart is always waiting.”

Sometimes saying nothing opens such a deep chasm of emptiness

that even the brightest light of hope

wanes dimmer and dimmer

until the silence becomes

nothing but darkness

itself.

But the Lord

is gracious:

ALWAYS

gracious.

And the silence

that holds loneliness and sorrow

and fear

can

broken

single

word

love

Hear, O Lord, and be gracious to me;
O Lord, be my helper.
You have turned for me my mourning into dancing;
You have loosed my sackcloth and girded me with gladness,
That my soul may sing praise to You and not be silent.
O Lord my God,
I will give thanks to You forever.
Psalms 30:10-12

A dear friend gave these flowers to me.

Thank you, Tracy.

Breath

2010-08-31T10:43:00.019-04:00

He knew.

He has always known

That we would need Him.

He knew that we would be lost and vulnerable and helpless

And that we would need a Shepherd . . .

The LORD is my shepherd,

I shall not want.

He knew that we would get weary from the struggle

And emptied by the pain . . .

He makes me lie down in green pastures;

He leads me beside quiet waters.

He restores my soul;

He knew that we would become confused

And tend to wander away . . .

He guides me in the paths of righteousness

For His name's sake.

He knew that our way would sometimes grow dark

And threaten to extinguish all hope and life . . .

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I fear no evil, for You are with me;

Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

So He prepared the oil ahead of time . . .

You have anointed my head with oil;

My cup overflows.

This is why we believe.

In the midst of it all . . .

Surely goodness and lovingkindness will follow me

all the days of my life,

This is why we find True Life

In the journey of our life

In Him . . .

And I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.

Psalms 23:1-6

The Lord is my Shepherd,

I shall not want.

And I am still breathing.

Can you hear it?

2010-08-09T18:19:00.010-04:00

“Be Still, My Soul.”

Poem by Catharina von Schlegel (1697-?), Germany
Translated into English by Jane Borthwick (1813-1897), Scotland
Music by Jean Sibelius, Finland in 1899
cello played by Steven Sharp Nelson

Be still, my soul;
the Lord is on thy side;
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul; thy best, thy heavenly, Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul;
thy God doth undertake
To guide the future as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence, let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul; the waves and winds still know
His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below.

Be still, my soul,
though dearest friends depart
And all is darkened in the vale of tears;
Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,
Who comes to soothe thy sorrows and thy fears.
Be still, my soul; thy Jesus can repay
From His own fullness all He takes away.

Be still, my soul;
the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord,
When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul; when change and tears are past,
All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.

Beautiful, beautiful.

These words were originally written in Germany during a time of Christian revival. The Spirit of God was invading the pharisaical religions of that day with a simpler, more compelling Gospel of Jesus Christ. The Holy Spirit was emphasizing the need for a heart-kind of faith . . . where people really cared about other people and God was really the Lord. And God was boldly addressing particular strongholds within the church community:

Egotism of church leaders
Idolatrous attachments to particular doctrines and systems of worship
Persecution of those who desired freedom of faith and would not be controlled by established practices and rulers

There was a new hunger for purity in the Body of Christ during this revival. Not the kind of purity that made one person better than another person, but the kind of purity that made all people fall to their knees at the feet on the only Pure One . . . truly desiring to become more like Him. People began to re-examine their ethics, their devotion, their charity, and their own motives. The Lord challenged His people to give up their strident loyalty toward particular people or particular doctrines or particular churches in exchange for a heartfelt empathy and real acceptance of simple, honest Christian discipleship.

So if God was doing such a beautiful work of revival in His people, then why are the words in this hymn so full of consolation? If something great was happening, why was there such a need to “be still” and be assured?

People needed to hear these words because this was not a rain-down-from-above and make-everyone-dancing-happy kind of revival. This wasn’t the kind of revival where you could fall to the ground weeping during a church service and then walk out of the church door laughing about “such an awesome meeting.” This revival was gut-wrenching. It happened in the hearts of believers . . . not within the prescribed walls of a particular church building. It was a call to the type of life change that impacted not only individuals, but also revolutionized families, communities, and even countries.

And being still . . . still to the very core of their souls . . . was the first step.

Did you rush through the reading of this song’s lyrics so you could quickly scan to “the point” of my essay? I urge you to read the lyrics slowly and thoughtfully. Or get your hymnal out and play it on the piano. Or download it onto your ipod.

Dear reader, I hear this beautiful hymn calling to me through the corridors of revivals past. I can feel its lyrics beginning to pluck my heartstrings with slow, determined strokes. I can sense its melody soaking into deep, dusty crevices of my soul. And with this hymn of hope and consolation, I can hear the voice of the Lord calling . . .

America needs a revival like this.

We need a revolution of heart and soul and spirit.

We need God.

I know that such a revival also comes with great cost. All heavenly treasures are very costly indeed.

But I believe it is time.

Time to be still.

Time to know that God is really God.

Time to grasp our shovels and dig up the deep, ancient wells of Truth in God’s Holy Word.

Time for repentance to pave a way for restoration.

Americans . . . friends . . . brothers and sisters in Christ . . . can you hear this song too?

Will you sing it along with me?

I will be praying for you.

Will you pray for me?

Be still, and know that I am God;

I will be exalted among the nations,

I will be exalted in the earth.

The LORD Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Selah

Psalm 46:10-11

Spending Time

2010-07-29T23:23:00.007-04:00

Sometimes I just like to walk up to the barn and sit with the chickens for a while. It is so quiet and calming and real. I usually refill their water dispensers with cool, fresh water. Often, I bring them a treat (my chickens love bananas). Then I just find some place to sit . . . and watch . . . and pray.

We have an old fold-up chair in the barn. There are also some left-over cinder blocks near the wood pile. And I keep a couple of 5-gallon buckets next to the chicken’s feed bin. Any of these make good seats for sitting with the chickens and watching summer go by. And for praying.

I sit with my chickens because I have them.

And because I have the time to just sit.

And because I enjoy it.

I pray because fellowshipping with the Lord is my pouring-out time . . . that fills me back up so I can live some more . . . and live more fully.

I just sit.

I look up at the clouds.

I wonder if it’s going to rain.

I listen to the bluebird in a nearby maple tree.

I pray for the people that are imprinted on my heart.

I am sure that it looks like I am doing nothing.

But I am truly not wasting time.

Really, I’m not.

I am, however, spending it.

Extravagently.

I have spent many, many years of my life doing things that absolutely must be done . . . and not really having enough time to do them all. Usually, they were things that I immensely enjoyed . . . raising 4 children, teaching school, helping my husband with his work, homemaking. Sometimes they were things that were not especially enjoyable. But running-pell-mell through jam-packed days like a wildly screaming rollercoaster fanatic isn’t the way my middle-aged time is spent any more.

I don’t live life any less passionately than I did 20 or 30 years ago. Or with any less joy.

But I have stepped down from the rollercoaster now . . .

I amble more, instead of rushing . . .

I think more and scream less . . .

I definitely avoid dramatic dips in altitude . . .

And if I have my hands high in the air,

it is to wave to friends . . .

or to feel the rain . . .

or to worship the Lord beneath a twinkling, starlit sky.

So I have decided to share some pictures of the chickens I sit with and the sky that I contemplate and the gravel road that I meander up and down on these long, hot summer days.

This is Eli, my rooster, enjoying the dappled shade of his favorite locust tree.

Here is Eli crowing . . . so loudly and with such complete abandon that he has to gasp for his next breath after such an effort.

Here are a couple of Eli’s girls. This particular patch of wood’s-edge foliage often has a rabbit napping in it. When chickens and rabbit meet, much flurry and scurry and squawking always occurs. However, the rabbit will probably be in that same place tomorrow. And the chickens will be surprised again. I love predictabilities.

Here are some pictures of Eli’s plumage. My Australorp chickens are officially black, but their shiny, soft feathers reflect iridescent greens and blues and purples in the sunlight. I think it’s beautiful.

This is the skyline I see as I look across the field.

This is the barn's gravel driveway I stroll up when I am finished sitting.

And this is my walkway back home on a summer afternoon.

Autumn will be here soon enough. The weather will grow cooler, the days will grow shorter, and the chickens will be free-ranging less in the shady places. But even in the nippy fall air, I will still be sitting and watching and praying.

I will watch soaring hawks float high above the bronze-and-golden maples that line our gravel road. I will listen to crispy breezes as they sweep through swishing leaves in the woods behind the barn. And I will pray as the huge, orange harvest moon rises early over Kirkhaven’s quieted eastern hillside.

I will watch.

I will listen.

I will pray.

But I won’t be wasting time.

Truly I won't.

I will be spending it.

Extravagently.

Because when you are in the company of the Lord of the Universe, every moment is precious indeed.

The LORD is my strength and song,

And He has become my salvation;

This is my God, and I will praise Him;

My father's God, and I will extol Him.

Exodus 15:2

Ordinary Miracles

2010-07-25T14:39:00.002-04:00

When was the last time you felt icy-cold, pure well water pouring over your bare feet on a sweltering summer afternoon? If it hasn’t been in the last few days . . . or at least in the last year . . . then you need to come to Kirkhaven. Our well is finally finished, the pump is installed, the pipes are all connected, and water is flowing! It is amazing to think that this precious gift of clean, sweet water has been there . . . 760 feet below the wildflower-strewn meadows of my home . . . waiting for us to reach down and draw it up from its limestone depths.

The water is clear . . . as a finely-polished crystal.
Cold . . . as an April mountain stream.
Fresh . . . as a morning autumn rain.
Abundant . . . as a triple-portion harvest just before Jubilee year.

And all we have to do is open a valve or simply lift a handle.

Don’t let anyone tell you, however, that getting water from a well like this is cheap or easy or quick. But don’t let them tell you it is foolish or irrelevant or impossible either.

When I look at our well, I see God's faithfulness wrought through generous, skillful, hardworking hands. I am grateful for the knowledge and the equipment of well drillers, excavators, and electricians. I admire the tenacity of those who worked in 90+ degrees with 90+ humidity to glue pipes together and install hydrants and valves. I remember the vision that initiated the project, the hope that gave it breath, the faith that sustained it, and the persistence that brought it to full fruition.

And now this precious gift from the Lord . . . this hard-won victory . . . this well water becomes a simple part of routine life at Kirkhaven. Irrigating our flowers and our green lawn. Watering the berries, fruits, melons, vegetables, herbs, and apple orchard. Cleaning off the patio and maintaining the swimming pool. Washing our cars. Filling our bass pond. Providing the chickens with clean, chlorine-free drinking water.

Isn’t it amazing
that the real miracles of God’s goodness and grace are both
so very costly . . . and so very free . . .
so very astounding . . . and so very common . . .
so lavishly enjoyed . . . and so industriously employed . . .
altogether unearned . . . yet requiring such faith and diligence?

And hidden.
Usually hidden.
Hidden beneath red clay and gray limestone.
Or simply hidden in the quiet routine of life on a small ridge-top farm.

It is easy, sometimes, to feel besieged by the hardships and sorrows of life. Things can be so difficult and people can be so very hurtful. But it is important to recognize the miracles. And to laugh and rejoice every time they grace our commonplace lives.

Perhaps it is the ordinary things that are the real miracles anyway.

What could be more ordinary . . .
and more miraculously life-giving . . .
than water?

The Lord is my shepherd,

I shall not want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures;

He leads me beside quiet waters.

He restores my soul;

He guides me in the paths of righteousness

For His name's sake.

Psalm 23:1-3

. . . the first flow of water down the pipes into the bass pond . . .

my new yard art beside the garden . . .

gushing with icy-cold well water!

Summer Thunderstorm

2010-07-23T13:14:00.002-04:00

I love a good thunderstorm.

huge, summer raindrops

pelting against my cloud-darkened windows

thunder crashing onto the ridge

and reverberating across Smoky Mountain foothills

random lightening

crackling across a shrouded, gray skyline

whooshing leaves

fluttering on bending trees

Then I love the shushed calmness that settles on Kirkhaven

when the storm passes.

Everything is drippy

and soggy

and wet.

A fresh scent of summer optimism hangs in the humid air.

And occasionally a translucent rainbow arcs across McNally ridge

as the sun breaks through dissipating clouds.

Sometimes fears loom menacingly at the edges of my thoughts.

Sometimes days are hectic and far too overscheduled.

Sometimes life is hard and heart-breakingly sad.

But sometimes the perfect rainstorm happens.

And I am refreshed.

And renewed.

And very, very grateful

for solitary moments

with an intimately personal God

in the midst of a raging storm

that ends with such

quiet

perfect

peace.

The steadfast of mind You will keep in perfect peace,
Because he trusts in You.
Trust in the LORD forever,
For in GOD the LORD, we have an everlasting Rock.
Isaiah 26:3-4

Words From the Heart

2010-07-12T17:47:00.002-04:00

Create in me a clean heart, O God,

And renew a steadfast spirit within me.

Psalms 51:10

Heart dilemmas are some of the most difficult kinds of dilemmas. I have been thinking and praying about "heart issues" this summer as I tend my vegetables, herbs, and sunflowers in my ridge-top garden. I think the popular advice, “Follow your heart,” is a bit insensitive and even a little trite. It isn’t so easy to follow your heart. And it may not even be a good thing to do so.

What if your heart is torn between two strikingly different but equally compelling decisions?
Or what if your heart is too confused to make any sense out of a tangled jumble of options?
Or what if your heart is too broken to find the strength to even make the effort to choose?
Or what if . . . and this is the scariest thing of all . . . what if your heart is so deceived or mistaken that following it will lead to destruction and sorrow?

I am reading a biography of Dietrich Bonhoeffer: Bonhoeffer; Pastor, Prophet, Martyr, Spy by Eric Metaxas. It is a heart-wrenching, inspiring portrait of a courageous man on the road to martyrdom. Bonheoffer was a man who was faced with making “choices of the heart” in Nazi Germany . . . and all of the choices were difficult ones.

Let me warn you before you read any farther . . . I am beating the drum of history. This is where my mind and my heart have been musing, lately. So this is what I have to share. No pensive musings or whimsical perspectives are rolling from my pen right now. Why? Because I see such parallels in Bonhoeffer’s world and our world today. And because I believe that the hearts of God’s people need to be stirred anew to hear the voice of His callings . . . . . .

Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a man of deep heart struggles. As a loyal, patriotic German, Bonhoeffer’s heart told him to be faithful to his country . . . shouldn’t he fight to prevent its destruction by the Allied forces in World War II? As a disciple of Jesus Christ, his heart discerned heinously evil intent in Hitler’s maniacal reign . . . who could justify soldiering beneath such a man? As a responsible citizen, his heart told him that unbridled tyranny must be resisted . . . could sedition and treason ever be morally right? As a respected professor and pastor, his heart told him that public politics could bring grave consequences to people he loved . . . should he live a lie as a double spy so that truth might ultimately triumph?

A lot of “good people” joined the Nazi regime. They followed their heart. There was lots of passion. Lots of well-intentioned loyalty. There was patriotism and many, many grand, stirring speeches. But a few people saw the evil there.

Deitrich Bonhoeffer, in his moral and spiritual anguish, made a courageous decision. He decided to follow God’s heart. Not his own heart . . . God’s heart. He knew that God’s heart was a heart of grace. But he also knew that God’s grace had cost Him everything . . . and that following this Heart of Grace would likely be very costly indeed.

Dietrich became part of the underground movement to save the lives of Jews. He wrote a devotional book on Psalms when “Jewish” Old Testament writings were outlawed. He “patriotically” joined the Abwehr (German military intelligence), then secretly acted as a double-agent spy to assist the Allies in their efforts to defeat Hitler. He plotted with a group of men planning to overthrow the Nazi regime and was complicit in a plan to kill Hitler. And he continued to love and pastor and serve the church of God until he was ultimately martyred.

From reading Bonhoeffer’s own letters and writings, it is clear that these decisions were very difficult for him. He was often confused in His journey of obedience to the Heart of God. Many times he was alone and afraid. He was misunderstood and he was maligned. The war against tyranny and injustice in his beloved Germany became . . . for him . . . a spiritual war against evil. It was a war he never relished, and one he sometimes despaired of. But it was a war he did not shirk waging.

Sometimes, all that is necessary for evil to prevail is for deception to be ruthlessly beguiling and for people to be willingly naive. It can happen so easily when we are passionately following our hearts. The church of the Lord Jesus Christ allows such deception to gain credence and power when she becomes obsessively occupied with the “benefits” of grace . . . neglecting an honest relationship with the Lord, customizing the Truth of His Word to fit their preferred creeds, and shirking the responsibilities of so great a salvation.

For those who have been patient enough to read this far, I leave you with some quotes from someone much wiser than I. These are excerpts from Bonhoeffer’s book, The Cost of Discipleship. See if you can hear the ring of truth in these passages . . . and see if you sense, as I do, a timeless call from God’s Heart to His church today . . .

Cheap grace is the deadly enemy of our Church. We are fighting today for costly grace. Cheap grace means grace sold on the market like cheapjacks’ wares. The sacraments, the forgiveness of sin, and the consolations of religion are thrown away at cut prices. Grace is represented as the Church’s inexhaustible treasury, from which she showers blessings with generous hands, without asking questions or fixing limits. Grace without price; grace without cost! The essence of grace, we suppose, is that the account has been paid in advance; and, because it has been paid, everything can be had for nothing. Since the cost was infinite, the possibilities of using and spending it are infinite...

Cheap grace means grace as a doctrine, a principle, a system. It means forgiveness of sins proclaimed as a general truth, the love of God taught as the Christian “conception” of God. An intellectual assent to that idea is held to be of itself sufficient to secure remission of sins. The Church which holds the correct doctrine of grace has, it is supposed, ipso facto a part in that grace. In such a Church the world finds a cheap covering for its sins; no contrition is required, still less any real desire to be delivered from sin. Cheap grace therefore amounts to a denial of the living Word of God, in fact, a denial of the Incarnation of the Word of God ...

Cheap grace means the justification of sin without the justification of the sinner. Grace alone does everything, they say, and so everything can remain as it was before. “All for sin could not atone.” . . . Well, then, let the Christian live like the rest of the world, let him model himself on the world’s standards in every sphere of life, and not presumptuously aspire to live a different life under grace from his old life under sin.... Cheap grace is the grace we bestow on ourselves.

Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline, Communion without confession. Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate...

Costly grace is the treasure hidden in the field; for the sake of it a man’ will gladly go and sell all that he has. It is the pearl of great price to buy which the merchant will sell all his goods. It is the kingly rule of Christ, for whose sake a man will pluck out the eye which causes him to stumble, it is the call of Jesus Christ at which the disciple leaves his nets and follows him.

Costly grace is the gospel which must be sought again and again and again, the gift which must be asked for, the door at which a man must knock.

Such grace is costly because it calls us to follow, and it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ. It is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life. It is costly because it condemns sin, and grace because it justifies the sinner. Above all, it is costly because it cost God the life of his Son: “ye were bought at a price,” and what has cost God much cannot be cheap for us. Above all, it is grace because God did not reckon his Son too dear a price to pay for our life, but delivered him up for us. Costly grace is the Incarnation of God.

Costly grace is the sanctuary of God; it has to be protected from the world, and not thrown to the dogs. It is therefore the living word, the Word of God, which He speaks as it pleases Him. Costly grace confronts us as a gracious call to follow Jesus. It comes as a word of forgiveness to the broken spirit and the contrite heart. Grace is costly because it compels a man to submit to the yoke of Christ and follow him; it is grace because Jesus says: “My yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

Blackberry Jam

2010-07-07T11:01:00.002-04:00

I love making jam! I think my favorite kind is blackberry jam. I love traipsing through the Kirkhaven woods looking for berry patches. I love filling my “repurposed” plastic ice-cream buckets with the juicy jewels I find. And I love the art and the craft of turning this summer bounty into rich, sweet, yummy jam. I don’t even mind the purple stains left on my hands (and sometimes my shirts) from the whole, earthy process.

I like bringing people with me sometimes when I go berry picking, but everyone isn’t always as keen on blackberry harvesting as I am. It is a hot, prickly, tedious job that puts you in close contact with bugs, thorns, ticks, and . . . occasionally . . . a blacksnake sunning himself in the meadow.

By the way . . . I always try to convince my companions that the blacksnake is a good thing. He eats the vermin that might otherwise overrun my farm. Kind of like our faithful Kirkhaven pest control. They don’t usually buy my reasoning, however.

As my bucket slowly fills . . . one-juicy-berry-at-a-time . . . . I have a luxurious amount of time to think, dream, pray, and hum myself through a peaceful Kirkhaven morning or early evening. I am treated to the joyous melodies of chirping songbirds if I go picking in the morning. Crickets, cicadas, and croaking frogs peacefully accompany my evening forays. Whatever the time of day, the predictably hot, humid Tennessee air usually makes the whole affair a complete energy sapper that climaxes with a fairly long . . . quite steep . . . walk back uphill to the house. However, orange-mint iced tea and a refreshing dip in the pool easily remedies any berry-picking fatigue.

For me, a gallon bucket heaping with these dark purple treasures is a treat well worth the effort. Blackberry jam for my breakfast toast. Blackberry syrup for my ice-cream or waffles. Blackberry cobbler for a summer evening dessert. Blackberry bread and blackberry muffins. Blackberries to enjoy and to share with those I love.

Actually, I am eating some toast slathered with blackberry jam as I write this blog.

Yuuummmm.

With peanutbutter. Double yum!

Here are pictures of my canning shelf in the kitchen after an afternoon of making jam. The hanging brown bags are for drying herbs from my garden. The blue pot has my small pruning shears and my herb scissors in it. A handful of crushed limestone in the bottom of the pot (harvested from our well-digging project) always reminds me of the Lord’s faithfulness . . . and keeps the cutting blades dry. The books contain my favorite recipes, canning instructions, and gardening tips. The basket beside the shelf holds my gardening gloves (I know I should use them, but I hardly do), my Lowe’s pocket apron (really handy), bug spray (keeps ticks away while in the woods), and my handy-dandy folding stool for weeding.

You should come join me some time. Picking blackberries and making jam are peaceful, rich, soul-satisfying kinds of endeavors. And you never know whom the Lord will bring to share the bounty of your harvest.

That is one of the sweetest things about my little East Tennessee farm. We never know who will come to share with us. We do, however, know that it will be very good.

Because the Lord is Good.
So very Good.

O taste and see that the LORD is good;
How blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him!
Psalms 34:8

Free

2010-07-04T14:18:00.000-04:00

yada Yehovah Elohim, Elohim aman El shamar berith chesed eleph dor aheb shamar mitzvah

Know therefore that the LORD your God,
He is God,
the faithful God,
who keeps His covenant and His lovingkindness to a thousandth generation
with those who love Him
and keep His commandments
Deut 7:9

yada, know
shamar, faithful
chesed, lovingkindness

There is absolutely nothing more precious to me . . . more profoundly comforting, encouraging, and life-giving . . . than knowing the faithful lovingkindness of the Lord my God.

The ebb and flow of life’s many seasons, the unexpected intrusions of life’s tragedies, and the often relentless persistence of life’s challenges and difficulties can turn my personal creeds completely on their head. The crafted beliefs I hold dear can be entirely washed away by a flood of events that I neither understand nor feel truly equipped to handle. It is completely possible to leave me intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually stranded on the roadside of life, broken and confused, wondering if I have ever really gotten anything “right.”

But there is something utterly transcendent about the faithful lovingkindness of the Lord. He can reach me anywhere. He can touch me from any perspective. His kindness is so amazing that even the crass, vindictive, demanding, circumstances and people who feel obliged to demean me so that they can exalt themselves become swallowed up in a sea of hope and peace when I rest in His unchanging love.

That’s why the themes of quietness and stillness and rest are so prevalent in my writings. It is the hushed, secret places of the heart and soul, when both external joys and external sorrows have been shushed for a bit, that I find the rich, deep fellowship with God that brings my life its sustaining faith.

I want my heart to be like the glassy surface of a still, quiet pond . . . where the slightest breath of God’s Holy Spirit sends spreading waves of faith to every bend and slope of its uneven shoreline . . . where every raindrop of God’s Holy Word plops concentric ripples of life-giving Truth and Hope.

Resting in the Lord does not depend on external circumstances at all, but on your relationship to God Himself. – Oswald Chambers

On this July 4th Independence Day weekend, Kirkhaven, once again, celebrates freedom. The nourishing fellowship of family, old friends, and new relationships . . . the sound of children splashing and playing in the pool . . . burgers and brats on the grill . . . fireworks in the clear, starry sky . . . contemplation and simple joy at the summer sounds of nighttime frogs and crickets and cicadas. I relish it all. I am so very blessed to be given such bounty.

For now, however, I will head down to our soon-to-be-finished bass pond, in this momentary lull, to sit with the Lord a bit. I’ll toss a few pebbles into the water that has begun to collect below the shadiest shoreline. I may pick a few more blackberries for the jam I plan to make tomorrow. I’ll chat with the Lord a little about my recent thoughts and questions.

But mostly I will listen.
And quiet my soul.

I will rejoice because I know that the Lord my God is a faithful God.
I will rest because of His unfailing lovingkindness.

yada Yehovah Elohim, Elohim aman El shamar berith chesed eleph dor aheb shamar mitzvah

Know therefore that the LORD your God,
He is God,
the faithful God,
who keeps His covenant and His lovingkindness to a thousandth generation
with those who love Him
and keep His commandments
Deut 7:9

“Do not let your heart be troubled; believe in God, believe also in Me . . . I am the way, and the truth, and the life . . .”
John 14:1,6

So if the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed.
John 8:36

Free indeed.
How amazing is that?
Happy Independence Day!

What Gospel Do We Embrace?

2010-06-15T11:53:00.004-04:00

Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.
Matthew 11:28-30

Timeless, beautiful words. Like cool water on a parched heart and refreshing breezes across a dry, weary dessert. Freedom from tyrannical yokes. Relief from oppressive burdens. Jesus simply said, “Come unto me.”

The older I get, the more I have begun to appreciate the simple elegance of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. After 51 years of living . . . 46 of those years in vital relationship with the Lord of the Universe . . . I continue to grow more deeply moved and more quietly contented with God’s Wisdom and Truth. But sometimes I need to be reminded about what the Gospel is . . . and what it really isn’t.

All of us . . . and I especially . . . have such a penchant for personalizing things. It just seems to be human nature to take something and make it our very own. Add our own flavor and perspective. It is usually just small things . . . a little color here, an extra dash of spices there . . . we just like to fix things . . . beautify them . . . make them personally appealing or relevant or palatable. However, the truth and beauty of original Truth can become completely transformed when we persist in personalizing it.

There can be many variations on a daisy:

The Gospel of Jesus Christ, however, is not amenable to such ministrations.

The word “amenable” means:
answerable to
capable of submission to
suited to another
willing to submit to
responsible unto
obedient to

The Gospel of Jesus Christ is not amenable to us.

It is true that The Gospel is intensely personal and infinitely capable of reaching every person “right where they are.” But it is not amenable to personalization. It is the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Not the gospel of us.

The time that we are at risk of trying to bring God’s Gospel into submission to our personalization of it is usually when we find ourselves especially in need. Perhaps we are ill. Maybe we are in severe financial straits. We might be at a point of confusion or consternation. Or maybe even someone we love is facing tragedy. Frailty, pain, vulnerability, and confusion can be very frightening and very difficult. It is hard to be calm and circumspect when your world is crumbling down around you. And it is extremely easy to do and to think and to believe a personalized version of the gospel when the real Gospel of Jesus Christ simply isn’t responding to our immediate hurt.

Psalm 69:1-3
A Psalm of David.
Save me, O God,
For the waters have threatened my life.
I have sunk in deep mire, and there is no foothold;
I have come into deep waters, and a flood overflows me.
I am weary with my crying; my throat is parched;
My eyes fail while I wait for my God.

So we create “mini” gospels, within the Gospel of Jesus Christ, to meet our glaring needs:
a gospel of physical healing
a gospel of emotional healing
a gospel of friendship and loyalty
a gospel of family faithfulness
a gospel of global acceptance and grace
a gospel of guaranteed prosperity
a gospel of mysterious powers
A gospel of glorious ecstasies

Of course, we find a plethora of scriptures to back our views and claims. And we usually recruit a “band of brothers and sisters” to join us in our fervency. And often, we slip into an “us-versus-them” mode of operating that insulates us from painful opposition and provides justification for our denigration of dissenters.

But Jesus never told us to do any of these things. These personalized gospels merely siphon the real power and the real glory and the real Truth from the real Gospel of Jesus Christ. To put it simply . . . Jesus never told us:

“Come to healing.”
“Come to friendship.”
“Come to your family.”
“Come to grace.”
“Come to prosperity.”
“Come to special revelations and glories.”

Jesus simply said, “Come to Me . . .”

As I was reading this verse in Matthew a few days ago, I saw that my Bible’s footnotes mentioned that Jesus was quoting the Old Testament when He spoke these words. So I looked up the scripture reference. It is a selection from the book of Jeremiah, where the Lord is speaking about Israel’s sin:

They have healed the brokenness of My people superficially,
Saying, “Peace, peace,”
But there is no peace.

Were they ashamed because of the abomination they have done?
They were not even ashamed at all;
They did not even know how to blush . . .

Thus says the LORD:
"Stand by the ways and see and ask for the ancient paths,
Where the good way is, and walk in it;
And you will find rest for your souls."
But they said, “We will not walk in it.”

And I set watchmen over you, saying,
“Listen to the sound of the trumpet!”

But they said,
“We will not listen.”
Jeremiah 6:17-17

When we insist upon having our own gospel with our own revelations and tailorings within our own community in our own way then we have relegated the whole of our existence to very mortal, very capricious gods. We become burdened with things that are not from God. We become weary from the need to continually control and manipulate everything and everyone so that our constructed reality doesn’t fall apart. We anesthetize our pain and assuage our confusion and fear by the temporary work of our own hands and thoughts and words. We call forth “Peace, peace” and “Healing, healing,” and “Happiness, happiness,” and “Grace, grace,” but it is not the Gospel of Jesus Christ. It is our gospel.

Jesus is The Way, The Truth, and The Life (John 14:6). When we come to Him, He will be the “ancient path,” the “good way.” He is no guarantee that things will become exactly like we want them. Our pain will not mystically disappear. Sometimes, we must even face persecutions from our families, our communities, and even our friends when we narrow our perspective to that of only Jesus. But when we come to Jesus, we will have Life. Real Life.

Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? Just as it is written, " FOR YOUR SAKE WE ARE BEING PUT TO DEATH ALL DAY LONG; WE WERE CONSIDERED AS SHEEP TO BE SLAUGHTERED. But in all these things we overwhelmingly conquer through Him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, will be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 8:35-39

God calls to His people:
“Stand by the ways and see and ask for the ancient paths, where the good way is, and walk in it.”

His Word stands as a Watchman over our souls, saying:
“Listen to the sound of the trumpet!”

Jesus beckon us,:
“Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.”

Now, therefore, fear the LORD and serve Him in sincerity and truth; and put away the gods which your fathers served beyond the River and in Egypt, and serve the LORD.

If it is disagreeable in your sight to serve the LORD, choose for yourselves today whom you will serve: whether the gods which your fathers served which were beyond the River, or the gods of the Amorites in whose land you are living; but as for me and my house, we will serve the LORD.
Joshua 24:14-15

I love the words to this beautiful hymn. They called to my heart to "come to Jesus" when I was a small girl at a huge Billy Graham Crusade. They call to my heart even today . . .

I Surrender All
by: Judson W. Van de Venter

All to Jesus I surrender,
All to Him I freely give;
I will ever love and trust Him,
In His presence daily live.

All to Jesus I surrender,
Humbly at His feet I bow,
Worldly pleasures all forsaken;
Take me, Jesus, take me now.

All to Jesus I surrender,
Make me, Savior, wholly Thine;
Let me feel Thy Holy Spirit,
Truly know that Thou art mine.

All to Jesus I surrender,
Lord, I give myself to Thee;
Fill me with Thy love and power,
Let Thy blessing fall on me.

All to Jesus I surrender,
Now I feel the sacred flame.
Oh, the joy of full salvation!
Glory, glory to His name!

I surrender all,
I surrender all.
All to Thee, my blessed Savior,
I surrender all.

God can fill everything. He fills the empty, broken places with his healing and love. He fills the fearful or lonely places with His safety and comfort. He fills the places that seem already full with His wisdom and perspective and direction. There is a God who fills everything. And He is always more than enough.

The Gospel of Jesus Christ.
Unedited.
Unembellished.
Elegant and simple.
Come to Jesus.
And rest.

Is God Your Lord or Your Steward?

2010-06-09T17:19:00.001-04:00

I took a walk through the meadows and wooded trails of Kirkhaven a few days ago. The black-raspberries were beginning to ripen, so I picked a few to make some ice-cream topping. Clover, wild roses, and honeysuckle were blooming everywhere, leaving gentle scent bouquets wafting in the breeze. My son’s hunting dog, Pike, gleefully ran ahead of me, sniffing for critters in the brush, as I silently meandered in and out of cool shade patches.

My heart was overwhelmed with the goodness and the bounty of the Lord. Everywhere I looked, I saw mature poplar and oak trees I had not planted . . . thriving berry patches I had not tended . . . sun-bathed meadows of daisies I had not watered. Even the beautiful chirping and singing of blue birds, cardinals, and wood thrushes didn’t need my direction or care to serenade the summer afternoon.

In that simple, quiet walk, the God-ness of God completely overwhelmed the me-ness of me.

In a sense, I knew that I owned the land I was walking on.
I could see the red barn we had built with its newly finished chicken coop . . .
and hear our rooster practicing his crowing.
I could stroll beside earthy-smelling herbs in our lush, green garden . . .
and pick a hand-full of sweet peas for our evening salad.
I could look across the western meadow toward the well and the nearly-finished pond . . .
and dream about next year’s fishing ventures.

The seeds of our dreams and the plans of our hearts and the work of our hands were clearly evident on the landscape of my ridge-top home. And I knew that very soon, David’s red truck and Rachel’s gray car would roll down our gravel road . . . coming home from work . . . bringing fellowship, laughter, and joy with them.

All of these things were rich, colorful, threads being woven into the tapestry of my life.

But the overwhelming joy in my heart was not rooted in all the things my husband and I had done to build our family farm. The freedom I felt was in knowing that Kirkhaven was God’s property . . . His possession . . . not mine. And I was His possession, too. It was God’s loom that held the warp in place and His Hand that skillfully wove every specially-chosen welt. He was the weaver. He was Lord.

Whatever we believe about ourselves and our lives here on this earth,
we really need to know this crucial truth:

The bounty and the goodness are the Lord’s.
We are simply stewards.

Sometimes the people of God become entangled in error . . .
perhaps even dabbling in idolatry . . .
when they begin to think that they are the artists of their lives.

We can easily make the mistake of believing that
commendable accomplishments
or virtuous behavior
or disciplined habits
or cheerful demeanors
or charitable actions
or educated opinions
or enduring friendships
or healthy choices
or loving families
or prosperous lifestyles . . .

that all of these things
can be wielded as beautiful instruments
in our own hands
as we sculpt and paint and create our own living masterpieces . . .
life as we see it . . .
as we think it should be . . .
interpreted through our own, unique flourishes of texture and color.

Our own masterpieces.

But it is a grave mistake to believe any such things.

Because when we begin to believe that we are the creator . . . the gifted artist . . . , then we start to think of God as our steward. His character becomes a storehouse from which we gather riches for our kingdom. His Goodness becomes our birthright. His Mercy becomes our presumptuous expectation. His Healing becomes our much treasured prize. His Grace becomes our crown and glory. The things of the Kingdom of God become resources in the kingdom of me. And resources, as any good economist will tell you, can be bought and sold in the marketplace if you have the right currency.

A little insightful flattery.
A bit of well-timed denigration.
Eloquent application of promises and guarantees.
Artful use of cloaked warnings.
Creative splashes of humor and wit.
The right amount of hospitality mixed with a calculated measure of shunning.
A pinch of control here . . . a tweak of manipulation there.
It becomes far too easy to reach into our bag of royal coins and buy whatever reality we choose.

We become skilled in the nuances and craft of lordship
when we believe that heaven is our storehouse
and the hand of God is our ever-present valet.

Christians must not live this way.

The earth is the LORD'S, and all it contains,
The world, and those who dwell in it.
For He has founded it upon the seas
And established it upon the rivers.
Who may ascend into the hill of the LORD?
And who may stand in His holy place?
He who has clean hands and a pure heart,
Who has not lifted up his soul to falsehood
And has not sworn deceitfully.
He shall receive a blessing from the LORD
And righteousness from the God of his salvation.
This is the generation of those who seek Him,
Who seek Your face—even Jacob.
Selah.
Psalms 24:1-6

He is the creator, the artist, the potter, the weaver at the loom.
We must be the stewards.

We are stewards, not lords.
And God cares very much about the hands and the hearts of His stewards.

For the grace of God has appeared,
bringing salvation to all men,
instructing us to deny ungodliness and worldly desires
and to live sensibly, righteously and godly in the present age,
looking for the blessed hope and the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior, Christ Jesus, who gave Himself for us to redeem us from every lawless deed,
and to purify for Himself a people for His own possession,
zealous for good deeds.
These things speak and exhort and reprove with all authority.
Let no one disregard you.
Titus 2:11-15

Neither a happy life nor beautiful life-accoutrements truly indicate real Life in the Kingdom of God.

I sense, deep in my spirit, that God is calling His children to listen to Him.
To examine their gospel and see if it is the real Gospel.

There may be some very difficult times ahead of us. For many people, difficult times have already come. What will the canvas of our lives look like if the economy in America crashes? What story will our life tapestry tell if our Christian faith falls into dark social or political disfavor? What will be the testimony from our lips if the things we hold precious and dear are stolen or destroyed or fall away from us?

I believe the answers to these questions are dependent upon two factors:
Who is the Lord?
Who is the steward?

Are we the lord . . . the gifted artist . . . that creates the masterpiece of our life?
Or does the Lord God Almighty hold our life in the palms of His nail-scarred hands?

Is God the personalized steward of all our dreams and desires?
Or are we the faithful stewards of God’s costly, precious Truth?

Who is the Lord?
Who is the steward?
From whence does the goodness come?
Of whom is the testimony given?

But as for me, the nearness of God is my good;
I have made the Lord GOD my refuge,
That I may tell of all Your works.
Psalms 73:28

The Joys of Chickens

2010-05-11T15:52:00.000-04:00

Now that they are 7 weeks old, I have decided to write a little about my fledging experience in raising Black Australorps. It is surprising how much I am enjoying my growing chicks. There is just something very satisfying and peaceful about sitting in the middle of my happy brood, watching them enjoy their busy day. I am delighted with how gentle and quiet my chickens are. They will eat out of my hand and nap right up against my foot or leg. The only thing we have found that really frightens them is the sound of a cell phone ringing. So I don’t take my cell phone to the chicken coop. :)

Here are some pictures of my chicks on the day they arrived at Kirkhaven. They travelled from Missouri to my East Tennessee farm via the United States Postal Service. I drove to our local branch office to pick them up. I started laughing the minute I walked through the post office doors and heard them chirping. It just seemed like such a quirky thing to do . . . pick up my package of live chicks at the post office.

I kept my tiny chicks in a homemade brooder in my basement. We suspended a heat lamp from the upper bar of the weight-lifting set and used extra wood pieces as baffles on the lid to control the temperature inside the brooder. Our original plan was to keep them in the barn, but my kind husband graciously moved the chicks into our basement when I worried about keeping them warm enough during the chilly, early-spring nights. We built the brooder from poplar boards that were milled from trees right here on our property. We have huge stacks of rough hewn poplar, red oak, white oak, hickory, and cherry in our western meadow and were delighted to find a good use for some of the dried boards.

We are still quite a few weeks away from having any lovely, brown eggs, and our rooster hasn’t yet learned to crow. But the Kirkhaven chickens are now settled nicely into their new chicken coop and fenced chicken run. Fourteen soon-to-be laying hens and one adolescent rooster. We built their new abode inside two of our existing barn bays using the same rough-hewn Kirkhaven lumber that we used in building the brooder. They only have one roost installed low to the ground and we haven’t constructed the nesting boxes yet, but my Kirkhaven chickens seem to really appreciate their cozy little home.

Here’s our fancy door lock at the chicken run entrance. . .

Here’s the human’s door into the coop . . .

and, of course, the “special” chicken door . . .

There is such a pleasant, quaint rhythm to caring for my chickens. Here they are greeting me as I open their coop doors in the morning.

A couple of them always keep an eye on the food and water containers when I clean them and fill them for the day. Chickens are pretty smart. They know that all kinds of yummy treats come from the hands that feed them.

Delicious snacks also fly through and crawl in through the perimeter fencing. The most alert chicken has the best chance at catching the bug. Fence watching is a favorite morning activity.

There is always lots of happy chirping and congregating and scratching.

And there is always vigilant surveillance of both the ground and the sky.

Even the sand box . . . which is a luxurious place to take a lavish dust bath or a relaxing, cool nap . . . often has a selection of insects for a breakfast buffet.

It is important to note, however, that the chicken you are NOT focusing on is the chicken you should probably watch out for. Chickens are quite curious about cameras.

Seven-week-old chickens are not as cute as they once were, and they not as beautiful as they are going to be. Some have begun to grow combs and wattles. Some are beginning to add a little squawky clucking to their sweet baby chirps. All of them have a crazy-looking combination of baby fluff, emerging pin feathers, and shiny adult plumage that . . . pretty much . . . . only a mother can love. Sometimes, in the afternoon sun, you can see the iridescent blue-green-purple sheen that makes Black Australorps so beautiful. For now, however, they are definitely awkward adolescents.

I tried to get a portrait of my handsome rooster, but he was too busy this morning. He had a lot to do. And he would rather peck the camera than pose for it. He isn’t aggressive, however . . . thank the Lord. He loves to nap against my feet when I am sitting in the chicken run on my “thinking stool.” Actually, if I am wearing my crocks (my all-time-favorite shoes that I got as an early mother’s day gift), Elijah likes to nap on top of them.

Here are some portraits of three of my pullets (a pullet is a hen that is less than a year old). These girls were quite willing to pose for the camera. Each one is maturing at her own, special rate. They are beginning to shed the last bit of their cream and white markings. Soon, even their feet and their beaks will be solid black.

And here is what a chicken looks like right before she pecks the camera . . .

It was, of course, just a curious kind of peck. Could be a bug hiding in there . . . ya never know unless ya peck!

I really don’t know why this desire to raise chickens has come to my husband and I. But I do know that I am enjoying it immensely. This evening, when I walk out to the chicken coop to close things up for the night, I will say another prayer of thanksgiving. I will see my chickens lined up like contented, sleepy soldiers on their homemade roost. And it will make me laugh . . . again.

Sometimes I walk to the chicken coop alone as the sun is setting behind our western meadow and the first stars are beginning to twinkle over my quiet rooftop. Sometimes I walk hand-in-hand with my husband, and we chat about the garden or the pond or the weather in May. It feels like God is building an ark . . . a peaceful, bountiful haven . . . here . . . on this small piece of the world the Lord has given us to steward. My heart is so grateful and so quieted. And I am filled with wonder at the prospect of what He might do next.

For me, it is the common things that bring great satisfaction and joy.

There is far too much sorrow in life.
Way too much pain.
Too often things can be sad or difficult of just plain dreary.

But simple things . . .
like watching the sun rise . . .
or watering the garden . . .
or chatting with a friend . . .
or mowing the lawn . . .
or picking berries with a child . . .
or cooking dinner . . .
or watching the chickens . . .
simple things are always there, every day.
Finding joy in them is something anyone can do . . .
anyone willing to quiet their soul,
and dare to be content
in the company
of God.

The best day . . .
for me . . .
is the day that I get to revel in the simple joys
of Life in . . .
and Life alongside . . .
and Life by
the Lord Jesus.

The Haven in Storms

2010-05-04T14:00:00.005-04:00

I am fascinated with the stunning beauty of simple, commonplace things. I actually went on a walk a few days ago to take pictures of things that normally get stepped upon. I wondered how many lovely things I trampled as I trekked with my eyes on a distant goal instead of looking down at the path I trod. I found remarkable things underfoot. And I was reminded of two things:

• how much beauty can be found in a faith that is vulnerable, honest, simple and stilled
• how easy it is to trod upon the things that really matter

The flower that amazed me the most was the clover. The simple white clover. I remember making bracelets, anklets, and garland crowns with these wild flowers when I was young. I would sit in the grass for hours crafting princess jewelry. But I never noticed the clover’s delicately curling petals or its rich coral and green highlights. How could a simple, common weed be so beautiful?

As I knelt in the meadow in front of my house, looking at all the different varieties of clovers and wondering if I could photograph them all, I thought about how beautiful a simple faith in the Lord can be. I wanted to write about what I was seeing and feeling, but I knew that some people wouldn’t like my essay. I thought about some of the times that people had quoted phrases from my heartfelt blogs about quietness and peace and called them boring. I remembered the denigration I felt when people wrote about their busy schedules and hectic lives and stated that only busy people with BETTER things to do than being still have the authority to share about finding peace and quiet. My blog wasn’t quoted as a source in any of those writings, however. Sniping from behind a stone isn't a transparant act.

But I am going to share my thoughts any way. I am over 50 now. My life isn’t hectic like it used to be. Other people’s lives and opinions are not the rudder for my faith. I am not afraid of being simple or common or even boring. And the only real audience of my written words and my private prayers is the Creator of the Universe . . . who is the Author of quietness and stillness and peace. And the Savior of my soul.

Perhaps I am narrow-minded, because I believe that Jesus is the only Way and Truth and Life.
John 14:6

Perhaps I am radical because I believe we should be poor in spirit,
mourn over sin,
cultivate gentleness,
hunger and thirst for righteousness,
value mercy,
love purity,
respect peacemakers,
and embrace the persecution that results from persevering in righteous living.
Matthew 5

I am definitely not legalistic because I believe we should live as if the 10 commandments are still respected and vital and relevant today. And that if we really loved others, we would be keeping all of them.
Romans 13:8-14

Some things, when they are trod upon, merely release the sweet fragrance of Truth.

But realize this, that in the last days difficult times will come.

For men will be lovers of self,
lovers of money,
boastful,
arrogant,
revilers,
disobedient to parents,
ungrateful,
unholy,
unloving,
irreconcilable,
malicious gossips,
without self-control,
brutal,
haters of good,
treacherous,
reckless,
conceited,
lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God,
holding to a form of godliness, although they have denied its power;
Avoid such men as these . . .
Now you followed my teaching,
conduct,
purpose,
faith,
patience,
love,
perseverance,
persecutions,
and sufferings,
such as happened to me at Antioch, at Iconium and at Lystra;
what persecutions I endured,
and out of them all the Lord rescued me!
Indeed, all who desire to live godly in Christ Jesus will be persecuted.
But evil men and impostors will proceed from bad to worse, deceiving and being deceived.
You, however, continue in the things you have learned and become convinced of . . .
All Scripture is inspired by God and profitable for teaching,
for reproof,
for correction,
for training in righteousness;
so that the man of God may be adequate, equipped for every good work.
2 Tim 3

Walking with the Lord can be brutal. But there is shelter from the storm. A Haven in Him. And only in Him.

Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble,
And He brought them out of their distresses.
He caused the storm to be still,
So that the waves of the sea were hushed.
Then they were glad because they were quiet,
So He guided them to their desired haven.
Ps. 107:28-30

Here is Oswald Chamber’s advice to aspiring pastors in his book Approved Unto God. I believe it is good advice for all believers:

“The Gospel of Jesus Christ awakens an intense craving and an equally intense resentment. Base [your life] on personal love for the Lord, not on personal love for men. Personal love for men will make you call immorality a weakness, and holiness a mere aspiration; personal love for the Lord will make you call immorality devilish, and holiness the only thing that can stand in the light of God.”

If you crave quietness, stillness, and peace in your soul . . . cry to the Lord in your trouble.
Determine to shun evil.
Discipline yourself to do good.
Know that this will cause a storm of resentment and persecution.
But know that He is the Haven in the storm that always comes.
In Him is goodness and riches indescribable.

And please, be careful what you trample.

The Beauty of Uncertainty

2010-04-29T16:10:00.001-04:00

As spring blooms in the meadows and woods and hillsides of my beloved East Tennessee, I find myself awakening to a fresh, new season in my own winter-wearied soul. It is a season of growth, much like the tender green shoots pushing through the dark, rich soil in my Kirkhaven garden. New life. New hope. New dreams.

And like all growth that brings fresh strength, beauty, and insight, this growth comes from a place of deep fellowship with the Lord. Not a place of fanfare and bravado. Not a place of human consolation. Not a place where the definition of who I am and what I do has any dependence upon the opinions or the needs or the denigrations . . . especially the manipulations and control . . . of other people. This has been a place of drawing aside to be with the Lord and to glory in His fellowship alone.

It is impossible to live in community with others if you have not learned to live alone with the Lord. All life flows from Him. All truth abides in Him.

To believe that you can plumb the depths and comprehend the breadth and live in full, vital relationship with the Lord of the Universe in a few minutes . . . or a few days . . . or even a few years of distracted study and abbreviated prayer is a most grievous mistake. It is sometimes necessary to have protracted times of aloneness . . . long walks in the Lord’s companionship through the meadows and the deserts and the mountains and the valleys of life’s journey . . . until the essence of God Himself can begin to impact your frail character and mold your stubborn will.

And to believe that you can rightly relate, with true Christian graces, to both the unsaved world and God’s community of believers without a rich, deep, enduring, secret life alone with the Lord is worse than grievous . . . it is devastating. Vain philosophies, misguided doctrines, and co-dependant relationships are the fruits of deep, personal, intimate relationships that are shallow in the Lord.

God is more. He is always more than I can possibly take in. And more than I could ever relate or share. So I find myself, at this juncture of my life, beginning to relish things that, in earlier times, caused me youthful consternation. I am finding . . . in the more-ness of God . . . that I have settled for far too little . . . for far too long.

One of the biggest things that I am beginning to cherish . . . that I once deemed a frustration and a stress . . . is uncertainty. Oswald Chambers, in his book My Utmost for His Highest, eloquently expresses how uncertainty is a blessing in the life of a dependant child of God:

Certainty is the mark of the common-sense life: gracious uncertainty is the mark of the spiritual life. To be certain of God means that we are uncertain in all our ways, we do not know what a day may bring forth. This is generally said with a sigh of sadness; it should be rather an expression of breathless expectation. We are uncertain of the next step, but we are certain of God.

Then he goes further to press the importance of this uncertainty in the formation of a humble, teachable, growing heart:

When we become advocates of a creed, something dies; we do not believe God, we only believe our belief about Him. Jesus said, “Except ye . . . become as little children.” Spiritual life is the life of a child. We are not uncertain of God, but uncertain of what He is going to do next. If we are only certain in our beliefs, we get dignified and severe and have the ban of finality about our views; but when we are rightly related to God, life is full of spontaneous, joyful uncertainty and expectancy.

To live in gracious uncertainty means that we don’t have to understand it all. We don’t have to explain it all. We don’t have to be it all. There is a simplicity and humility and sincerity in this kind of spiritual posture. There is an enormous ability to appreciate different people with different perspectives. There is a freedom to accept our own frailty and to depend upon God’s faithful strength. Gracious uncertainty allows us to release others to pursue genuine godliness. And it allows us to release ourselves from the yardsticks that measure our worth and our status.

Try to define love?
Try to understand grace?
Try to explain righteousness?
Try to build a profound teaching
or acquire a special revelation
or develop a faultless doctrine
that is immutable and global and imperative?

Nope.

None of those occupations can change a human heart.
They can’t turn water to wine
or stone to flesh
or mourning to dancing
or fear to hope.

Only God can do that.
And His Ways can be the most surprising, amazing, unexpected things.

I am thinking that a life of gracious uncertainty is a lovely life.
Who knows where it will take me??
I am thinking that is the whole point.

:)

Time to Dig

2010-04-21T19:08:00.000-04:00

Then Isaac dug again the wells of water which had been dug in the days of his father Abraham, for the Philistines had stopped them up after the death of Abraham; and he gave them the same names which his father had given them.
Genesis 26:18

I have been thinking about wells lately. We are finishing a well-drilling project here at Kirkhaven, and my heart has been captured by both the practical blessings and the spiritual symbolism of wells. We have “city water” here on our farm, so a well certainly wasn’t a Kirkhaven necessity. But as our farming ventures have begun to grow, my husband and I began to see the value of having our own underground water source . . . especially since we will soon have an acre pond that needs filling.

Deciding where to drill the well turned out to be simple . . . in a surreal kind of way. No one could give us any scientific formula for choosing the right drilling spot. My husband and I had discussed possible locations, but we both felt completely inadequate to make such a sweeping decision. We had already prayed for favor and blessing on the project. So we did what we have always done in projects that seemed to test the limits of our abilities and our faith. We just trusted God. We shrugged our shoulders. We made a decision. “Put the well wherever my wife wants it,” my husband joked, grinning. “I don’t want it to be my fault if this well ends up dry.” So John, the drill-rig assistant, ceremoniously handed me his empty Mountain Dew bottle and said, “Drop this where you want your well. That’s where we’ll drill.”

I dropped the bottle, with as much flare as I could muster, right at my feet. The rig commenced drilling. Only God knew what we would find.

I watched as the McCall Well Drilling and Pump Service turned up topsoil, then red clay, then Tennessee limestone. “You’ll hit water eventually,” Mr. McCall had said, “just no tellin’ how deep you’ll have to go or what kind of flow you’ll find when you get there.” Since the depth of the well determined its cost, we hoped that we wouldn’t have to drill any deeper than 300 feet.

From my research, I learned that our official state rock - limestone - was often a great source of groundwater, so I bent down and scooped up a handful of the drilling debris at the edge of the deepening shaft. It looked like finely crushed gravel. But it was dry. Bone dry. I stood there beside the loud droning of the powerful drill . . . holding my dry, dusty limestone pieces . . . and I prayed for water.

That was a powerfully symbolic moment for me. Praying for water . . . cool, pure, life-giving water . . . drawn from a well dug by our own efforts . . . standing in utter faith that God would bless this work . . . knowing that when we found water . . . if we found water . . . the enduring testimony we would pass on to our children and our grand-children would be simply this:

El Shaddai is faithful.

When I look at my country today . . . and especially at the American church . . . I see dry, dusty limestone. Rock that is associated with water. Rock that often has fossils of marine animals embedded in it. Rock that signifies great potential for well drilling. But it is dry. Bone dry.

I remember how, in my twenties, we would sing in church about the “rain of God” as we enthusiastically prayed and believed and expected great outpourings of revival in our land. Sometimes we saw miracles. Sometimes we saw hearts gloriously converted to faith in Jesus Christ. But it was always about “the rain.” God would “come down” and we would glory in it all.

I believe the time for dancing in the rain has passed. There will, as sure as God is faithful, be outpourings of God’s love and mercy on this land and on His people. But our hands have grown soft . . . our wills have become lazy . . . our theology has shriveled into dry, psychological, socialistic graceology. “God does it all. Salvation is free. No worries . . . no fretting . . . no working . . . we’re all okay. Get a revelation of the grace message and you’ll never thirst again.” Like in the days of Isaac in Genesis, the Philistines have stopped up the ancient wells. Who is left to dig them again?

Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom also we have obtained our introduction by faith into this grace in which we stand; and we exult in hope of the glory of God. And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us. Romans 5:1-5

What has happened to this kind of virtue? Where are our heroes of perseverance and proven character? Is there anyone left who believes that repentance is necessary, virtue is mandated, and good works are necessary in the Kingdom of God?

Our well-drilling at Kirkhaven turned into an expensive project. We had to drill much deeper than our hoped-for 300 feet. At one point we dug through two caves and had to pull up the drill bits, undo what had already been done, and double the amount of wall casing that was installed. We drilled all week and only found a minimum of water . . . 5 gallons –per-minute flow rate. By Monday morning, our 6th day of drilling, we were faced with a simple question: how deep is deep enough?

We passed 600 feet . . . then 700 feet . . . and the drill foreman asked us the same question each time we passed another 100 feet: “Are you ready to quit or do you want to go deeper?”

“If we go deeper, will that increase our flow rate?” I asked Chris. “Maybe not. Probably not. There’s really no way of knowing,” he answered as he shrugged his shoulders.

At the 700 foot mark, we finally gave Chris a definitive answer to his “how deep” question: “Go 800 feet.” That was it. 800 feet and no more. We would be grateful for whatever flow rate we found at that depth. Then we prayed one final, simple prayer:

“Father, bless this well. Send us a gusher. Oh Lord, let there be a gusher at Kirkhaven!”

As the sun was sinking low on Kirkhaven’s western horizon Monday afternoon, I saw the McCall Well Drilling truck amble up our gravel drive toward the exit to our property. I assumed the guys were headed home for the day and I waved to them, smiling. My husband and I were at the barn finishing our chicken coop. But instead of continuing up the drive, they turned onto the access driveway and pulled up to the barn . . . arms raised in victory: “It’s a gusher!”

Our well is sunk into an underground river at 760 feet. The current of the water is so powerful it prevented the drill from progressing any deeper. The water was gushing out of our shaft so fast that an accurate flow rate couldn’t be determined. Chris estimated it at “40 or 60 or probably greater than 60 gallons per minute.” After the bit was removed and the well was capped, the water level rose 555 feet up the shaft . . . now resting at an easily accessible 205 feet.

Digging this well was time-consuming. It was a test of our hope and faith. It was expensive. But it is an underground gusher . . . rain or shine . . . flood or drought . . . for generations to come. A testimony of God’s all-sufficient faithfulness.

Here is what Dietrich Bonhoeffer in his book The Cost of Discipleship says about the treasure of God’s grace in His church. In the 1940’s, Bonhoeffer actively and openly opposed both Hitler's National Socialism and the infiltration of Nazi philosophy and control into Germany’s churches. Bonhoffer was arrested for helping Jews escape to Switzerland, and was then executed by hanging at Flossenbürg concentration camp on April 9, 1945. He is a hero of the Christian faith and I believe that his words have great counsel for Christians today:

Cheap grace is the deadly enemy of our Church. We are fighting today for costly grace. Cheap grace means grace sold on the market like cheapjacks’ wares. The sacraments, the forgiveness of sin, and the consolations of religion are thrown away at cut prices. Grace is represented as the Church’s inexhaustible treasury, from which she showers blessings with generous hands, without asking questions or fixing limits. Grace without price; grace without cost! The essence of grace, we suppose, is that the account has been paid in advance; and, because it has been paid, everything can be had for nothing.... Cheap grace means grace as a doctrine, a principle, a system. It means forgiveness of sins proclaimed as a general truth, the love of God taught as the Christian 'conception' of God. An intellectual assent to that idea is held to be of itself sufficient to secure remission of sins.... In such a Church the world finds a cheap covering for its sins; no contrition is required, still less any real desire to be delivered from sin. Cheap grace therefore amounts to a denial of the living Word of God, in fact, a denial of the Incarnation of the Word of God . . .

Costly grace is the gospel which must be sought again and again and again, the gift which must be asked for, the door at which a man must knock. Such grace is costly because it calls us to follow, and it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ. It is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life. It is costly because it condemns sin, and grace because it justifies the sinner. Above all, it is costly because it cost God the life of his Son: “ye were bought at a price,” and what has cost God much cannot be cheap for us. Above all, it is grace because God did not reckon his Son too dear a price to pay for our life, but delivered him up for us. Costly grace is the Incarnation of God.

America . . .
Church . . .
We need a gusher . . . a pure, clean, river of living water flowing up from deep within the very heart of God.

It is time for virtue and hope.
It is time for the kind of faith that produces the character of God in His people.
It is time to stop our hedonistic, “bless-me-again-Lord” rain dances . . .
       to abandon our cheap grace . . .
       to don our work boots . . .
       to change into some clothes that might get dirty . . .
       and to start digging.

For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation to all men, instructing us to deny ungodliness and worldly desires and to live sensibly, righteously and godly in the present age, looking for the blessed hope and the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior, Christ Jesus, who gave Himself for us to redeem us from every lawless deed, and to purify for Himself a people for His own possession, zealous for good deeds. These things speak and exhort and reprove with all authority. Let no one disregard you.
Titus 2:11-15

We need to dig until we find theTruth,
the faith,
the repentance,
and the resolve
to become the church God desires.

It might be hard.
It might be long.
It will never be cheap.

But we can trust God.
He is faithful.

Somewhere below the very ground on which we stand in faith. . .
is a real gusher
waiting for us.

Grace Has Come

2010-03-22T22:31:00.001-04:00

I watched a storm dissipate a few days ago. It was an awe-inspiring thing. And since the storm was breaking apart just as the sun began setting, the colors were spectacular.

Skies that had been heavy and brooding from a dark, rain-filled day feathered softly and spread into a thinning veil of breeze-driven wisps. The charcoal canopy warmed to purple, peach, and pink as a warm, yellow glow softly lit the western horizon. I watched it all through the black silhouette of winter tree branches in my front yard. And when a tiny patch of blue sky began to slowly spread across this beautiful pastel canvas, I felt like a blind man seeing the wonder of God’s glory for the first time.

“This,” I thought, as the sun finally sank behind my Kirkhaven ridge, “is a photograph of grace.”

The grace of God is miraculous and glorious and absolutely unmistakable. For those who experience God’s handiwork in their own lives . . . and see it in the lives of others . . . grace is stunningly beautiful.

Purity.
Steadfastness.
Honesty.
Forbearance.
Dignity.
Peace.

After the storm of trial and the heaviness of repentance and the cleansing rain of Truth have brooded over our hearts for a time, God’s mercy comes . . . through the blood of His precious Son . . . and the sunset of His ever-present grace brings hope that tomorrow will be different.

That we will be different.

My heart knows what it feels like to gaze out onto heavy, stormy skies. There have been days and weeks and even months when light and color and hope were lost in the monochromatic landscape of sorrow and pain. Like an old black and white movie, I could only imagine the colors that actually thrived beyond the camera lens. I couldn’t see them outside the window of my soul; I could only see shades of gray.

But God’s grace has come.
The heavenly revelation is full and complete.
From the manger,
to the long, dusty roads of Palestine,
to the cross,
to the grave,
to the resurrection,
to the heart that will repent and believe.

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now am found
Was blind, but now I see!

For the grace of God has appeared,
bringing salvation to all men,
instructing us to deny ungodliness and worldly desires
and to live sensibly, righteously and godly in the present age,
looking for the blessed hope
and the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior, Christ Jesus,
who gave Himself for us
to redeem us from every lawless deed,
and to purify for Himself a people for His own possession,
zealous for good deeds.

Exquisitely simple.
Profoundly amazing.
The Gospel of Jesus of Christ.
The grace of God.

These things speak and exhort and reprove with all authority.
Let no one disregard you.
Titus 2:11-15)

Grace and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Savior be unto you.
Happy Resurrection Day!

Dreaming

2010-03-09T17:02:00.001-05:00

Sometimes you just have to shrug your shoulders, dust off your shelf of dreams, pick one, and lace up your work boots. There will always be reasons for NOT doing something. There will always be people to tell you that you shouldn’t. But when the Lord gives His nod of approval . . . and your heart begins to bloom with hope that you might actually be able to do this thing . . . then do it.

I have always been a dreamer. And I am married to a dreamer. It is just the way we are wired. It isn’t that we are afraid of the real world and prefer to live in an imaginary one. We are not those kinds of dreamers. It’s just that we love to see things as they are . . .find the beauty in them . . . and then wonder what they might become.

For me, dreaming is a type of prayer. It is a conversation between the Lord and I that plumbs the depths of my feelings and challenges the truth of what I think. It helps me to find complete contentment in the goodness God has poured into my life while still nudging me to step boldly into what He is doing next. For example, I can enjoy, with gratitude, the deliciously tart blackberries that grow wildly in my Kirkhaven woods . . . and still wonder, as I meander down familiar paths, if I might also grow juicy blueberries up on the hill.

Dreaming is a lot of work. I study when I dream. I read lots of books. I ponder the Word of God for guidance. I seek the counsel of knowledgeable, wise people. I ask a lot of questions and search out a lot of answers. It is important to have an honest grasp of what you DO know and what you DON’T know and what you NEED to learn when you are dreaming. Not-willing-to-work-at-it-laziness will kill a dream. Know-it-all-arrogance will kill the dreamer.

So today, at the threshold of another gorgeous Kirkhaven spring, we have begun earnest work on a brand-new dream. Kirkhaven is becoming a working farm. We will grow heirloom fruits, vegetables, and herbs for cooking, canning, and drying. We will raise Black Australorp chickens for beautiful, brown eggs and healthy, organic meat . And we will build a bass pond on the west side of our 54 ridge-top acres for fishing, thinking, and . . . . probably . . . more dreaming.

I am a teacher.
My husband is an architect.

If you are tempted to ask, “Why would THEY try to tackle such a project?” . . .
I have a simple answer.

No reason at all . . .
except that we dreamed it . . .
and we could hear God smiling.

Here is the site of our future garden overlooking McNallie ridge . . . with the Smoky Mountains in the distance.

Looking across the garden, you can see our red barn. That's where we will build the chicken coop.

And this is the sun setting over the site for our future pond.

Jeremiah 29:11-14

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you," declares the LORD, "and will bring you back from captivity . . .”

God’s plans are truly lovely.
Join me in dreaming?

Footsteps

2010-02-01T17:59:00.000-05:00

I took a walk yesterday in the fresh, clean snow that had settled onto our east Tennessee ridge. We don’t see snow like this very often. I wanted to meander across Kirkhaven’s meadows and trek through familiar wooded trails . . . enjoying the beauty of this blanketed landscape before it all melted away. The sky had cleared, the sun was out, and it looked like a perfect day for a winter stroll.

It was a treasure-hunt of sorts. I was looking for footprints. I often see wildlife scampering across our property or lingering along the wood’s edge. I wondered if I could track rabbits, deer, turkeys, or coyotes along my favorite walking route.

I didn’t take my ipod with me. Music is usually standard protocol when I go trekking, but there was something about the pristine look of snow on rolling hills that made me just want to listen to the silence this time.

The first footprints I found were the delicate, wispy tracings of a single, tiny bird. If I hadn’t been looking, I would have traipsed right through them.

Then there was a curious imprint at the edge of the path where a rabbit had been sitting

. . . and a double set of bunny tracks . . .

that merged with deer tracks and hopped up the path into the snowy brush.

It was so peaceful to walk in the winter woods alone. The only sound was the smooshing scrunch of my muffled boot-steps. Blues and whites of the snowy forest floor melted into pastel browns and grays as the bare-limbed canopy filtered the sun’s warming rays onto muted patches of shade and shadow. Everything felt calm. Uncomplicated. There was such unembellished elegance to the stark beauty there.

Then something the Lord said in His famous Sermon on the Mount drifted into my mind:

“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.”

Pure.
Like the clean, white snow.
Fresh.
Like a cold winter day.

I looked down and saw my own footprint in the snow.

I had walked these wooded trails many times, in every season.
The smell of honesuckle and wildflower blooms is nearly intoxicating in the spring.
The blackberries picked on humid summer afternoons are juicy and tart.
The brilliant orange-golds of autumn oaks and maples paint a stunning fall canvas.
And the brown, leaf-scattered path of winter’s simplicity makes a rich, musty carpet for brisk winter hikes.
Every season is beautiful in my Kirkhaven woods.

But only a snowy pathway clearly shows footprints.

Blessed are the pure in heart . . .
like fresh, white snow . . .
so that His every footfall,
His every touch,
His every Word,
even His every whisper and sigh
leaves it’s perfect imprint there.

I thought about my own heart and all the different states it had been in:
Proud.
Angry.
Critical.
Doubting.
Fearful.

Broken.

Far too noisy to hear God’s gentle footfalls.
Far too cluttered to see the prints He had left.

I knew that God loved me just the way I was..
And I knew that He often met me at the place of my greatest weakness.
I remembered how He even used an imperfect vessel to accomplish His perfect plans.

But blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.

So I prayed.

Lord, take my hurting heart . . .
I give it to you again.
I repent of the sin that muddles your perfect Truth.
I want to be changed.
Touch me . . .
and leave your handprint there.

A pure heart is less than a perfect heart.
But it is more than fully forgiven.

A pure heart is cleaned . . .
and quieted . . .
and waiting . . .
for the footstep
and the touch
and the voice
of God.

Because to see Him
and to bear His likeness
is what really matters.

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.
Matt 5:8

Simple Faith

2010-01-08T16:36:00.000-05:00

My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness;
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly lean on Jesus’ name.

When darkness veils His lovely face,
I rest on His unchanging grace;
In every high and stormy gale,
My anchor holds within the veil.

His oath, His covenant, His blood,
Support me in the whelming flood;
When all around my soul gives way,
He then is all my hope and stay.

When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh, may I then in Him be found;
Dressed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne.

On Christ the solid Rock I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand,
All other ground is sinking sand.

Lyrics by Edward Mote

Music by William Bradbury.

The Cokesbury Worship Hymnal

I often find myself humming this faithful, old hymn during the day.

Sometimes the humming is conversational . . .

a warmly familiar act of fellowship with the Carpenter of my days.

Sometimes it is prayerful . . .

a deliberate step of faith in trials that test both meddle and faith.

Sometimes it is unconscious . . .

echoing from memory’s musty halls like a timeworn photograph.

It is a life song for me. A hymn of many seasons. The theme of a life lived in the Gospel.

If there is any mystery in Christianity,

it is the mysterious penchant of Christians to muddle-up elegant, simple Truth.

Why do we do that?

To try to be “deep?”

To try to impress people?

To try to convince others that our more mysterious revelation . . .

since it is greater than their more simple one . . .

earns us loftier notoriety or higher authority or greater specialness?

My faith is simple and my God is profound.

This is the 51^st year of my life . . .

my 45^th year of walking with the Lord . . .

the year 2010.

This year my resolution, my life-vision, is very simple:

to be a bond-servant of Christ Jesus.

A bond-servant.

In Greek, a doulous.

A slave.

A person owned by another,

devoted to another to the disregard of one’s own interest.

It is a life of "grace plus everything." That's what my husband calls it.

The grace of God bestowed and wrought in a life

through faith

that results in obedience.

Grace.

Faith.

Obedience.

So very simple.

This year,

I expect to experience forgiveness . . . as I repent.

I expect to experience freedom . . . as I turn away from the things that oppose God.

I expect to experience peace . . . as I choose trust instead of fear.

I expect to experience abundant blessing . . . as I share what I have been given.

I expect to work hard and to rest deeply.

I expect the Gospel of Jesus Christ to only and amazingly be

The Gospel.

Simply.

Profoundly.

Sovereignly.

For me, that’s the good life.

It is more than enough.

It always has been.

And always will be.

- Lesa K. Reid

“The Christian profession does not consist in a notional knowledge or a bare assent,

much less in perverse disputings,

but in obedience.” —Matthew Henry

My Favorite Christmas Memory . . .

2009-12-24T11:45:00.000-05:00

There is a quiet lull at Kirkhaven right now. The turkey is in the oven, casseroles and salads are assembled, and a mountain of potatoes have been peeled and diced for their traditional garlic mashing. My husband is outside splitting wood so our Christmas Eve fireplace will crackle warmly all evening.

Later it will be busy and loud.

Later friends and family will be laughing and fellowshipping around a greenery-bedecked table.

Later three poodles and one frisky bird-dog-puppy will be dutifully keeping watch for any dropped morsel (or any secreted tidbit) of deliciously aromatic Christmas Eve feast.

But right now Kirkhaven is quiet, so I have a moment to fulfill a promise I made to my dear friend Janice Lewis before the weekend celebration begins.

Janice posted a suggestion on facebook and I promised to reply. She asked people to share a special Christmas memory they had. I answered that I was working on a reply and would post it soon. So here is my answer, dearest Janice. Here is my favorite Christmas memory:

Now in those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus, that a census be taken of all the inhabited earth. This was the first census taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. And everyone was on his way to register for the census, each to his own city.

Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the city of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and family of David, in order to register along with Mary, who was engaged to him, and was with child. While they were there, the days were completed for her to give birth. And she gave birth to her firstborn son; and she wrapped Him in cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

In the same region there were some shepherds staying out in the fields and keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord suddenly stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them; and they were terribly frightened. But the angel said to them:

"Do not be afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of great joy which will be for all the people; for today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger."

And suddenly there appeared with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying,

"Glory to God in the highest,

And on earth peace among men with whom He is pleased."

When the angels had gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds began saying to one another, "Let us go straight to Bethlehem then, and see this thing that has happened which the Lord has made known to us." So they came in a hurry and found their way to Mary and Joseph, and the baby as He lay in the manger. When they had seen this, they made known the statement which had been told them about this Child. And all who heard it wondered at the things which were told them by the shepherds.

But Mary treasured all these things, pondering them in her heart.

The shepherds went back, glorifying and praising God for all that they had heard and seen, just as had been told them. Luke 2:1-20

The Christmas story is so simple.

So elegant.

So plain.

It is the story of the King of the Universe . . . the Perfect Lamb of God . . . being born in a lowly stable.

Sleeping in a feeding trough.

Visited and venerated by rough, earthy shepherds.

It wasn’t what people were expecting, however.

It wasn’t exactly how people would have planned it.

There were things missing from the picture

. . . a warm, snuggly cradle

. . . a fire at the hearth

. . . family and friends gathered to celebrate

. . . the smell of savory meat roasting on the fire

. . . the rich, comfortable sound of bread being kneaded and baked.

The prophets had spoken of an unusual birth and an unusual life and an unusual death for the coming messiah. . . but somehow people had expected something different.

Something more familiar.

Something deserving of a king.

I always decorate my Christmas tree with gold and red and white. We have lots of lights and snowmen and greenery scattered about the house. We always have a pile of gifts under the tree. And we always eat a Christmas feast. There are tons of wonderful memories I have collected from all of my lovely Christmases.

But the thing I remember most is the brown of the stable.

And the rough wood of the manger.

The shepherds who saw angels.

And the quiet, pensive expression of a young mother holding a tiny, swaddled King.

My King.

Because sometimes Christmas isn’t always perfect.

Perhaps some people we love will be absent from our Christmas table.

Perhaps harsh words still echo in our minds.

Perhaps our Christmas greetings and our heartfelt words of blessings are not welcome messages to some friends and family we love.

Perhaps there are things missing from the picture this year.

Some households don’t always look like a Normal Rockwell painting.

But the King is there.

The One born in a manger.

The One who lived much heartache.

The One who died on a cross.

Who has believed our message?

And to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?

For He grew up before Him like a tender shoot,

And like a root out of parched ground;

He has no stately form or majesty

That we should look upon Him,

Nor appearance that we should be attracted to Him.

He was despised and forsaken of men,

A man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;

And like one from whom men hide their face He was despised,

and we did not esteem Him.
Surely our griefs He Himself bore,

And our sorrows He carried;

Yet we ourselves esteemed Him stricken,

Smitten of God, and afflicted.

But He was pierced through for our transgressions,

He was crushed for our iniquities;

The chastening for our well -being fell upon Him,

And by His scourging we are healed.

All of us like sheep have gone astray,

Each of us has turned to his own way;

But the Lord has caused the iniquity of us all

To fall on Him.
He was oppressed and He was afflicted,

Yet He did not open His mouth;

Like a lamb that is led to slaughter,

And like a sheep that is silent before its shearers,

So He did not open His mouth . . .

Yet He Himself bore the sin of many,

And interceded for the transgressors. Isaiah 53

My favorite Christmas memory, dearest Janice, is Him.

The King of the Universe come to earth as a tiny babe

. . . born in a manger

. . . destined to die on a cross.

He is always there as I decorate my home for this joyous season.

He is always there as I buy and wrap the gifts.

He is always there as I prepare the meal and light the Christmas candles.

He is always there when my home fills with family and friends.

And He is always there when things are missing.

Him.

It's Him I remember most.

And I treasure the memory.

When there is beauty and love and celebrating,

I can feel Him laughing.

And when there is heartache and sorrow and pain,

I can feel His tender Love.

In all of it He is there.

Glory to God in the Highest!

On earth peace . . . goodwill . . . to all!

Can you see Him too?

We

2009-12-16T20:32:00.004-05:00

Thursday, December 17th is our wedding anniversary. I have been married for more than half of my life. And as I think about our years together, I am not feeling sentimental or sappy or teary. I am not wondering, "Wow, where has the time gone?" Instead, a rich, deep contentment fills my heart and wraps around my soul like a soft, warm blanket. I have been married for 26 years to my best friend. What could be better than that?

I know that when you are young you dream about a "knight in shining armor" sweeping you off your feet. But I am older now, and fairy tales just seem too shallow and crass. I don't need to be charmed and dazzled. Things like that are too fragile. I prefer real things, like honesty, generosity, and humor. And enduring things like strength of character and wisdom. My husband is much more real and much more interesting than a storybook prince. He is a very good man.

I treasure the memories we have together. And I love the history we have built. But the things I enjoy most are the moments we have now. This day. This project. This fireside chat. I have time to savor things now. These just might be our best years yet.

So here are some things that I love about us right now.

Only I can finish his sentences.
Only he might guess where I have lost my reading glasses or my keys . . . again.
Only I know when he is really happy or when he has been really hurt.
Only he knows the difference between my "happy quiet" and my "sad quiet."

We can be just as content sitting together on our back porch as we are sitting side-by-side on the deck of a cruise ship.
We are both a bit eccentric.
We both love beautiful things.
And we both find great satisfaction in a job well done.

We struggle through the hard things together and we relish the lovely things together.
We work together.We relax together.

Together is pretty much who we are.

I really have no idea what the future has in store,but I know that I want to spend it with my husband.
My best friend.

“We”
is so much richer and fuller
than just him
or just me.

And he loves me.
And I love him.
What could be better than that?

Cinderella with her prince and glass slipper never had it this good.

Psalms 46:10-11
Lesa K. Reid

Seeking But Not Striving

2009-12-15T01:06:00.004-05:00

Puppies don’t pose. They romp and pounce and chew. They stick their noses into holes. They chase after mysterious scents that only they can smell. They rarely come when you call them. They usually dash into places they shouldn’t. Sometimes, for a split second, they might pause to wonder . . . but puppies do not pose.

If you want to photograph a puppy, you have to turn your camera onto the “action” setting and just start clicking. You’ll get tons of random pictures . . . blurred noses, floppy ears, waggy backsides . . . Getting just the right picture framed just the right way is a futile endeavor. Composing a photograph of a puppy is impossible. Nothing about a puppy is composed.

But if you are looking for something other than a perfect composition . . .

maybe something funny . . .

or something sweet . . .

or something nostalgic . . .

or something poignant . . .

then you will probably find it.

Mixed in with all the uncoordinated, mis-aligned, uncalculated, blurred images that you snapped on the run, you will find some treasures that you never could have orchestrated. Moments that simply happened . . . and you simply happened to catch them.

But if you are not willing to lay aside the schedule

and turn off the television

and walk away from the computer

and set aside the cell phone

and find a place where a leash isn’t necessary

and get your shoes muddy

and look for more than you can see

and hope for more than you have known

and believe that an aimless stroll with a puppy isn’t wasted time

then you won’t catch a thing.

"Ask, and it will be given to you;

seek, and you will find;

knock , and it will be opened to you.

For everyone who asks receives,

and he who seeks finds,

and to him who knocks it will be opened."

Jesus

Matt 7:7-8 (NASB)

Perhaps the most daring thing we can do is admit that life isn’t about perfect compositions.

The real beauty is unscripted.

And the real gift is knowing the Giver.

And the real art is knowing what really matters.

Cease striving and know that I am God . . .

Psalms 46:10 (NASB)

Psalms 46:10-11
Lesa K. Reid