i am learning to abide again

Abide. v. 4a. To remain in expectation; to wait, lie in wait. Now rare and arch. Oxford English Dictionary


I've been relearning just how difficult it is for me to rest and how wrapped up in work-based salvation.

Ask me and I'll tell you straight up that my salvation comes from the Lord alone... that I have done nothing. Catch me with nothing to do and you see a very different story. But the Lord is teaching me to abide.

A verb, it involves keeping oneself suspended between two places, balancing... active but still.


John 15:3-11
"Already you are clean because of the word that I have spoken to you. Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. If anyone does not abide in me he is thrown away like a branch and withers; and the branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. By this my Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit and so prove to be my disciples. As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father's commandments and abide in his love. These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full."


 

new york from all our eyes

"six words. capture a moment, a feeling, or an idea. write one for each day. we'll put them together and maybe we'll create a three dimensional look at our time. or would it be four dimensional because there are four of us looking at the same things and seeing different ideas?"


FRIDAY

Only Jesus knew what was coming. kj

Long drives need music and books. mh

And that’s when I understood Watsky. he
We settled into each other’s space. kb

SATURDAY

Blonde boys make the best drivers. kj

I left my headphones in Virginia. he

The anger was for your protection. kb

God got us to our doorstep. mh

SUNDAY

Wow, so transubstantiation really is important. mh

His earnest belief made him lie. kj

Underdressed in the presence of royalty. he

We didn’t turn on the TV. kb

MONDAY

Giddy sick broke and too happy. kb

I prefer people watching to shopping. mh

Lost among a sea of words. he

Everyone's looking but no one sees. kj

TUESDAY

Road-trips and remembrances help make stories. mh

I gave him cigarettes, not money. he

Her words unlocked both of them. kb

Ten year anticipation made me choke. kj

WEDNESDAY

I was a time traveler’s tourist. he

Snow covered all my past sins. kj

Your nostalgia is greater than mine. mh

Your fall took me with you. kb

THURSDAY

Cold weather, warm strangers, good friends. mh

Standing alone among millions, he cried. kj

All the words melted away today. kb

Take some of my body heat. he

FRIDAY

Subway windows are haunted by faces. kb

His plane ticket was his escape. he

Walk a mile, drive five hundred. mh

Saying "heading home" is a lie. kj

SATURDAY

We didn’t leave Hillary at McDonalds. kj

“I love you.” “You’re stupid too.” he

I was awake for 22 hours. mh
I realized your floor was home. kb

because we are "in Christ," because His life is ours, our fundamental life story has already been written

Sarah Lebhar Hall
Christianity Today
1 November 2012

some days

So much beauty piles up around me that I lose most of it. I try to capture it--wrestle it onto a page or into a metered cage--but so much of it slips through my fingers.

From the sun that fell on the wall and darted down the hall that morning a week ago, to the beauty of the music filling the room. From the clutched, three-handed fist of community in pain to the way the Lord throws forgiveness over me like a blanket, tucking in the edges. From the surprise pot of tea that I forgot about and which reached perfection in the cold to the way the wooden kitchen floor felt while we made dinner.

The way that her soft red hair smelled as I kissed the top of her head or how I've never seen her so happy as she was sitting on the floor, her hands clenched into fists.

as he is

A quote of a friend that got me through a great deal of high school which I just stumbled across again:

"When you truly seek God you will find him.  Not necessarily as you want him to be, but as he is." JB

propitiation

This is a reflection piece I wrote for my current doctrine class.

My understanding of the gospel has always included propitiation.  Having grown up Presbyterian, the holy wrath of God has always held great sway over my theology and has skirted around nearly ever sermon. Yet, it has always been balanced with the great and wonderful idea of propitiation laid out in Romans 3:23-25 which declares that

“For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as propitiation by his blood, to be received by faith.”

Propitiation has always been the one great act that freed my soul from the crush and horror of my sinful nature. D. M. Lloyd Jones explores this idea in his work Romans [1]. He declares Romans 3:25 to be one of the most important verses in scripture because it fleshes out the method of salvation and why it had to happen the way it did. He goes on to explicate the publicity in which Christ died and the message that His life and death project out to the world. Yet, as I read further, I was hit by not only the depth of importance carried by the doctrine of propitiation, but also the breadth of time that it covers and the intentionality of each day’s salvation.

This expansion of my understanding was triggered by the assigned reading of J.I. Packer’s book In My Place Condemned He Stood. In the chapter entitled “The Heart of the Gospel,” Packer details the doctrine of propitiation, showing how Christ is not only a one time propitiation for our sins, but also how He is making propitiation for us in this very moment in the presence of the Father. The verse which Packer used to introduce this idea is 1 John 2:1b-2:

“…we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous. He is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world.”

The phrase that leapt out at me from this verse is “we have.” It rings in the present tense and, despite Paul writing centuries ago, we can still grasp hold of the significance of his word choice. Christ has not yet returned and we continue on in the almost-but-not-yet. Such present tense means that not only did Christ become our propitiation, but that He continues to be active in that role. Packer, later in the chapter referenced above, lists “action” as a driving force in Christ’s life. It is the same in the doctrine of propitiation.

            Anthony Carter adds to the discussion as he laments how infrequency Christians talk about propitiation on a daily basis when it is in fact the foundation of our faith [2]. He grapples heavily with the wrath of God and the importance of our understanding it in order to better understand His Holiness. Yet, it is that very wrath which opens to us a fuller understanding of what it means to be atoned for–to have someone actively choose to be our propitiation.

Christ is not simply sitting on his laurels, passively watching his work save humanity and secure eternity for His children; He is speaking and living on our behalf day after day, ushering us into salvation one by one by stripping us of our sin and wrapping us in His own perfection.

---

[1] Lloyd-Jones, D. M. Romans: An Exposition of Chapters 3.20-4.25 Atonement and Justification. “Propitiation.” Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1976. 65-80. Print.

[2] Carter, Anthony J. Blood Work. “Propitiation by the Blood.” Orlando: Reformation Trust, 2013. 23-31. Print.

you shall go

Isaiah 64
"...and you shall be called sought out, a city not forsaken."

Jeremiah 1
"...do not say 'I am only youth';
for to all to whom I send you, you shall go,
and whatever I command you, you shall say.
Do not be afraid of them,
for I am with you to deliver you, declares the LORD."

"For I am with you, declares the LORD, to deliver you."

two thousand and thirteen to date

So here I am almost at the end of 2013.  I have had to continually remind myself of exactly when this year started. It's felt like several all smashed into one, each filled with strikingly new experiences from first transcontinental flight, first few months cooking for myself, first graduate school application, first secular university. 

And that barely scratches the surface what with all of the countries I've stepped onto and oceans I've dipped my toes in. 

This year has brought a great deal of excitement and has  certainly changed how I view the world from the simple (eg how to successfully interact platonically with men my age) to the more complicated (eg thoughts on the British education system verses the American one).  I have made friends I will never forget and said goodbye to them within the same year. 

This year has also brought a great deal of failure on my part from cultural interaction in England to struggling to feed myself well while in unit here in the United States. Even through all of my failures when I did not glorify the LORD, love those around me, or care for the world , the Lord has been gracious. He has taken those failures and, more often than not, turned them upside down into blessings.

I wouldn't trade the contents or order of this year because I know that the LORD will continue to teach me through what has happened this year.

Next year could find me in Tennessee, Washington, or a hundred other places. Right now I am focusing on trusting that the LORD is in control and that it is His hand alone which guides me. He will carry me through whatever happens next whether or not I can anticipate it which, if this year has anything to say on the subject, the unanticipated adventures that the LORD sends me on are often difficult, but worth the trip.

fear

Fear is a way that I live my life.  It's often laced through my actions, I write it into my papers, and I clip it into my hair in the morning.

People say that this is a fearful time in your life, this one that I find myself wrapped up in. You suddenly realize that those structures which have been surrounding you are falling away. Family, church, university.  It is not that your family deserts you, or that the church as a whole rejects you, but rather that where faces are familiar, where habits are formed, where you know which way is up...everything gets jumbled in the shift to a new place.

The fear is gripping me as I don't even know where the next place is.

But the Lord knows.

So there I will place my hope.

finding the gate

Classes start today. A comfortingly familiar cycle starts over again for almost the last time. I know how this works, how groups form into classes, how small talk in and out of class flows, and how professors will endeavor to temper their classes.  It's all very comfortable and predictable.

But here I am, finishing up the book of Hebrews, and once again being pushed out of my comfort zone by another of Paul's exhortations from the Lord:

For the bodies of those animals whose blood is brought into the holy places by the high priest as a sacrifice for sin are burned outside the camp. So Jesus also suffered outside the gate in order to sanctify the people through his own blood. Therefore, let us go to him outside the camp and bear the reproach he endured. For here we have no lasting city, but seek the city that is yet to come (Heb 13:11-14).

It is so very easy for me to become comfortable in a little enclave of happy Christians. It is something many of us struggle with up here on this mountain in the middle of Georgia where we are given the gospel wherever we go. It is such a beautiful blessing to be able to live with so many like-minded young Christians and to be tutored and counseled by professors who love the Lord and have made it their occupation to show him to us in the context of their passions, but then we just stay up here, enjoying the gospel, never setting our feet outside the gate.

So here's a goal of mine for this coming semester: find the gate, and get outside of it.

sundog

The LORD continues to prove his promise of healing and protection, revealing His sign in unexpected places.

my God is so faithful

During the summer of 2011, I worked with Sacred Road Ministries as an intern on the Yakama and Warm Springs Reservations here in the Pacific Northwest. While there, I wrote about Darius.

Quiet. Shy. He has the cautious hope of a boy who is often picked on. His eyes fit perfectly into his face behind his glasses. They give him the appearance of being much older than he is.
"There's a boy behind the tree...crying." Her nonchalant expression tells me she had seen many tears in her seven or eight years. She cares enough to tell me, but not enough to care. Turning the corner of the building, I can hear him. Now circling the tree, I follow the edges of the roots with my heals and watch the tree revolve, waiting to see who it is. I'm not expecting anyone in particular, but I'm certainly not expecting to see the sun glint off of glasses. I see his helmet as I stand above him, round and scratched up along with the knee, elbow, and wrist pads that accompany the huge roller blades on his feet. It isn't until I get down on my knees and sit next to him that I can see how upset he is. "You okay?" Pointless question, but they're words to say and he responds to them. "They got me wet. I hate getting wet." Words spoken through a wet nose and shaky breath. "I'm sorry..." "I told them I don't like getting wet." Inconsolable. We sit silent.

... 

The parade goes by to blaring country music. The fire truck, misting most and soaking a select few, blissfully cool in the ever present sun. Next a van with a poster taped to it about a support system for domestic violence. Next, the same for diabetes prevention. Following them comes someone who decided they wanted to join the parade because they had nothing better to do. I see the sun glint off of glasses  and see the roller blades. He's following one of the vans and chatting with a friend until he sees us, fourteen white people in a line of native faces. It's the first time I see his smile, radiant under his waving arm. "Hey you church people!" "Hey!" "You back?" "We sure are! Will you be there today?" "Oh yeah! MY GOD IS SO BIG, SO STRONG AND SO MIGHTY THERE'S NOTHING MY GOD CANNOT DO...FOR YOU!" As he gets further away, his voice doesn't fade, but grows louder. Faces turn and look, immediately puzzled by the white sunburned faces the words are directed towards. I don't look to see who sees. 

... 

Gone a whole week. Finally back. Children running everywhere, jumping out of their skins. My arms are filled with bodies, one after another. My chin on so many heads. Names trip out of my mouth. I know I only get to use them for four more days. Glasses. A smile, but such a different energy coming from it, unidentifiable until a ball is in his hands and then in another boy's face. Destruction. A desire to be anti-matter. Creating hadn't helped. relationships had gotten him nowhere. He gave up. The violence built up, getting stronger and stronger until the four-square ball was rocks and faces were targets. 

All I can hear as I watch them holding his hands, trying to protect the other children is "MY GOD IS SO BIG, SO STRONG AND SO MIGHTY, THERE'S NOTHING MY GOD CANNOT DO!"

When I returned to Warm Springs the next summer for a week, I looked everywhere for Darius. His face constantly came to my mind through the months that followed my internship and I desperately wanted to see whether my prayers had been answered...whether the Lord had preserved this one boy...whether He had restored some kind of balance or peace to his heart...whether he had kept him from being torn apart by violence unlike so many of the lives on the reservations.

I didn't see him.

Still I prayed and waited and wondered. I have always struggled with leaving the reservation. I want to be doing, not watching. I want to make God's Will happen. I want to make a difference. But there was nothing I could do. God kept me from working on the reservation that following summer and this summer as well. While I desperately wanted to dive back into the mountain of work to be done, He kept me home and then He kept me abroad. All the while I had to trust that the Lord was keeping those who were working...that He was keeping the children...that He was keeping Darius.

This summer I returned to Warm Springs once again for an all too-short week. When our church was assigned to begin a new location for the children's ministry, I gave up the idea of getting to see Darius again. Still, while working with our hands deep in the earth of the community garden, I asked one of the current interns whether she had seen Darius. She didn't recognize the name. She didn't recall the description. He hadn't been to kid's club that summer. He was gone. I gave up.

Still, there were many children to be cared for, loved on, and prayed for. I threw myself into their stories. The week continued on until Wednesday. Standing under a shade tree after two hours of follow-the-leader through the nearby playground in 98 degree weather, we opened a large cooler of watermelon and tried to cool off along with the kids. A group of older boys who had been swimming in the river came closer and, on seeing that there was food  to be had, joined our little group. One of them came, took a piece of watermelon, and stood next to me. I turned to ask him what his name was and saw the glint of his glasses. It was Darius. 

He was right there. He looked content and comfortable and was clearly a calming influence on the other boys he was with. While they acted out, throwing watermelon rind across the circle, he simply observed. He turned to me and said "Hey. How've you been?"

"I've been good Darius." A shocked look. Whoops. He didn't remember me. I explained that I used to work at the Boy's and Girl's Club when he went there before. His face relaxed again. "It's good to see you again, Darius." A smile.

My God is so big, so strong and so mighty. There is nothing my God cannot do.

inversnaid to invernarnan

The day with the shortest distance and hardest terrain; my personal favorite. Three and a half miles of very rough going followed by three and a half miles of up-ish-ness. Up down around over under trees rocks rivers and sheep. The views were even more stunning than the day before.

The LORD was good to us and kept the rain back until we had passed the most treacherous parts of the trail. The sun started to play in beams across the hills beyond and cats’ paws flitted atop the water towards us.

12:00 noon saw us sitting atop a mossy boulder eating what food we had with us and then heading into the simpler second stage of the day.

The scenery continued to become more and more beautiful.

The Way carried us to the very northernmost tip of Loch Lomond, completing our walk of its entire length. After climbing up onto a crag, we looked south down the Loch and sang hymns about the greatness of our God. How I wish I could give you all pictures that capture the beauty, but this is the best I could do.

St. David's of Llanddew

We attended a snug little church building in the traditional cross shape all built up with sandy Welsh stone, filled with old wooden pews, and decorated with such things as you expect to find in an aging church. The small organ filled the central room to the very edges without overpowering the low murmurs of the congregation as they entered. As a group of sixteen, we more than doubled their attendance that morning and the leaders went into a back room to pull out more hymnals.

It was a beautiful thing to see the congregation, all over fifty and most around seventy, get excited over a group of twenty-somethings arrive at their door. One of the women told me after that it felt like the hymns and the congregation had been filled with new energy by it.

As the organ slowed and stopped, one of the men got up, walked to the front of the church, and began ringing the bell rope that hung right behind the pulpit. We could hear the bells muffled through the ceiling as though the sound were falling from the top tower and sliding down the roof.

The heating system wasn't working. While the wind from outside was stoutly blocked, the cold radiated from the stone walls around us and our breath condensed and mingled above the pews and over the pulpit.

As it was Mothering Sunday,* we were unexpectedly treated to little flower bouquets and a chocolate each from the box that was passed around. After the service, chocolate cake was advertised in the back room and we followed the congregation to their side hall where we found much appreciated warm tea and coffee, chocolate cake, and the white haired ladies telling us that we really had to eat more, freshly home-baked chocolate cake.

One of our guys sat in a corner with two old darling little ladies and made them giggle for the whole half-hour we were privileged to stay after the service. Their cheeks were pink with both the cold and the idea of having an attractive young American man talking to them. I have never enjoyed listening to or watching a conversation more.

...

* Mothering Sunday was the Sunday before Easter when young people in the service of the large houses of Britain were allowed to go home and see their families. Unless disaster struck, it was the one day they were allowed to see their mothers. They would often be given a pudding from the kitchens of their house to take with them, hence the tradition of Mothering Sunday being the one day during Lent when you can indulge in whatever you have given up.

what i needed to hear

As we near the end of our eight week term, we've all run into a strange vacuum of sorts. We don't want it to end but we're also struggling to get to the finish line. Here are some verses that I desperately needed to hear sent from a friend at home.

The LORD will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail. Isaiah 58:11. NIV.

Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain. I Corinthians 15:58. ESV.

servant king

"Come see His hands and His feet,
The scars that speak of sacrifice,
Hands that flung stars into space
To cruel nails surrendered."

From Heaven You Came (The Servant King)
words & music: Graham Kendrick
music arranged by David Peacock

lunch

Woke up this morning to a cheery "good morning!" from my radio alarm clock. Far better than many of the mornings, which have awakened me to reports on various acts of violence in the United Kingdom. Not the first thing I would choose to wake up to.

Today was cool with the perfect amount of bite in the air. It's the kind of crispness that seeps into your lungs and makes you feel alive, but which doesn't require that you wear gloves while biking. For those of you familiar with Seattle  it's the kind of weather that comes just before you expect it to get warm for the summer but which really mean that you have two more months of drizzle before it will actually get warm.

More and more people have been coming with us to our little church. We had six this morning, all trailing along the cycle lane at the side of the road. At the beginning of the service, we were invited to lunch. You don't say no to a local inviting you to their home for lunch. Being in a home was wonderful. While our house here feels very much like a home, the presence of a mother, a father, and children creates a unique feel in a space which can't be matched by thirty five college-aged people smooshed together no matter how well we get along with one another.

As we cleaned up the dishes, we all volunteered our favorite hymns. We were able to sing all of them at least through the first verse and chorus as a whole group. It was so beautiful to listen to our voices fill the nooks and crannies of the house with the words of the Lord and people who love him dearly.

I believe I'm ready for next week thanks to God's good blessings.

shock and bubbles

Today a woman from North Ireland came up to me and introduced herself. I replied "Hi. My name is Katie." Almost before I'd gotten my name out, she said these words through a smile:

"Oh what a beautiful accent!"

I nearly laughed in her face I was so shocked. And then I realized. Here I've been talking to God about this anxiety that has built up inside me over these past weeks. It's culminated recently in the tendency to remain silent and not talk unless asked a question. The responses I've gotten from being an American here haven't been the best so far among Oxford students. But here God sent me someone who enjoys my voice. Suddenly I can hear the texture in it again and feel the subtitles in my throat, carefully forming the sounds.

taking a fall

The ice has taken a few of us down on our cycles and I joined those numbers yesterday. Don't worry...no serious damage done. It actually would have been fun if I hadn't been thinking "oh my goodness I think I'm going to die..." It was a graceful superman slide, I'm told...just with a bike and some pavement involved.

My real concern at the time was how my camera was in my front pocket...that one that's ripped up in the top left picture. It was already struggling a bit while I was in London. Something was amiss in the lens and moving around in the corners of the pictures. You can see it in the top left corner of this photo...

But look at this next photo! I just took it...it's fixed! No really. No more blotches in the corners...the whole frame is in focus...who'd've thunk that all it needed was another smack on the pavement? God is so good to me.

ignoring the weakness

A dear friend challenged me in an email today.

Your blog has shown the happy moments but what about the transition?...Is it weird being an American at a European school? 

I am uncomfortable with being weak and so I myself have somewhat been ignoring the transition. However, it is such an important aspect of what I am gaining on this trip that I would like to share. Also, it could be a wonderfully useful warning as well as an encouragement to those of you who may be considering studying abroad here or elsewhere.

I have a crippling desire to be thought of well. Combine this with the fact that Americans generally don't have a good reputation here in terms of either tact or intelligence and you have yourself a sticky situation. As soon as I open my mouth, I feel as though everyone is sizing me up. Suddenly I'm not only representing myself, but my whole country as well. Not only that, but all the mistakes of my country are laid at my front door. No, not everyone is doing this in their minds. It's impossible to tell with the British who will tell you that "that's quite good" which really means "that is horrid...don't ever do it that way again."

I keep finding myself slipping into a British accent at the grocery store, while asking for directions, or trying to find the library information desk. I so love observing and so hate standing out that I can't help but hide behind the cushion that the language gives me. This chameleon talking leads to more anxiety however because of the horrible fear that I'll be found out and humiliated. Because of this, I have tried to talk in an American accent no matter what. Mostly I've just been ending up with a British twinge because I'm able to suppress the rest. Perhaps they won't hear it at all. It makes me feel a little better at any rate.

So what am I struggling with? My pride. Even at home it so quickly strangles my joy in academics. I become so concerned about what my professors, tutors, and peers think that I freeze up and become unable to focus or re-orient myself in accordance with how the LORD sees me and my academics.

It's an ongoing struggle of mine and one I saw somewhere on the horizon. I just didn't think about how pervasive the speech would be. But who am I kidding? Here I am, in the center of one of the most prestigious academic communities in the world and I don't think about how I'm going to be surrounded by words.

I'm determined to glory in them though. I want to chase after these riddles Shakespeare has left and begin to grasp the world...parts of the world that only a few can see...and share it with others.