X-Ray Questions

Just when I think that I'm seeing less of some of the longtime idols in my heart...I realize that they've only evolved to a higher--or is that lower?--form of sorts: more crafty and cunning in their disguises. So I'm finding this list of "X-Ray Questions" from author David Powlison's book Seeing with New Eyes very helpful. Questions like these help keep my heart from sidestepping its deep-seated, twisted depravity to listen to the Holy Spirit instead. A sample:

1. What do you love? Hate?



2. What do you want, desire, crave, lust, and wish for?What desires do you serve and obey?


3. What do you seek, aim for, and pursue?


4. Where do you bank your hopes?


5. What do you fear? What do you not want? What do you tend to worry about?
 
What a list, huh?!

Mere mortals

I was sitting at Arby's not too long ago and noticing all the kinds of different people one might see at an Arby's, munching on their Arby-Qs or curly fries or whatnot. That's when a quote came to mind, by God's grace:

You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations — these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit — immortal horrors or everlasting splendours. (C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory, 1949)

(...No, that whole quote was not on the tip of my tongue in an Arby's.) C.S. Lewis also has a marvelous image portrayed in The Great Divorce, of a woman in Heaven who is a truly great heavenly being; her presence can't be missed, and is beautiful to behold. From what I remember, she was a no-name on earth. But here, her being is unmistakable, because on earth, she loved well.

So as I looked around the Arby's, at the woman who took my change and other people who I might mentally dismiss--and admittedly, in my sin, readily shelve into categories based on looks or mental ability or even sinfulness (on my bad days, I'm sure I've landed on someone else's "sinful" shelf)--I might be encountering a heavenly celebrity. Amazing, isn't it?

Today I was reading a story with the kids. It was based on that classic metaphor of a caterpillar morphing, at long last, into a butterfly. And now, I have an image to attach to my meandering thoughts. What if some of the "caterpillars" we encounter in this world are just dormant heavenly butterflies, who will astound us with their true beauty when at last it's revealed? It's not unlike that Jack Black movie, Shallow Hal, when women appear outwardly as beautiful (...or as ugly) as they are inwardly. Wouldn't our world be a little easier if we could judge books by their covers? I wonder if mine would really look as good as  I sometimesmake it out to be.

But alas...the Great Ruse of the Curse prevails: The price tags here will always be switched--the cheap things appear invaluable, and too often I find myself passing up the priceless.

Tonight, I'm sitting in Starbucks, looking around and wondering how God sees these people around me complete with their eternal destinies, sitting right here sipping their grande chais. These thoughts have already made me linger a little longer in conversation, or slip in an extra grin toward someone.

After all, who knows?

Quote: Spurgeon on pride

This quote seems to startle me every time I read it...and show me that I still have a long way to go.

O believer, learn to reject pride, seeing that you have no ground for it. Whatever you are, you have nothing to make you proud. The more you have, the more you are in debt to God; and you should not be proud of that which renders you a debtor. Consider your origin; look back to what you were. Consider what you will have been but for divine grace. Look upon yourself as you are now. Doesn’t your conscience reproach you? Don’t your thousand wanderings stand before you, and tell you that you are unworthy to be called His son or daughter? And if He has made you anything, aren’t you taught thereby that it is grace which has made you to differ? Great believer, you would have been a great sinner if God had not made you to differ. O you who are valiant for truth, you would have been as valiant for error if grace had not laid hold upon you. Therefore, don’t be proud, though you have a large estate - a wide domain of grace, once you did not have a single thing to call your own except your sin and misery. Oh!
Strange infatuation that you, who have borrowed everything, should think of exalting yourself... (Charles Spurgeon)

If you're looking for a practical and truly wonderful message on this topic, check out this one by Francis Chan, which made it worth my youngest getting up at six one morning so I could listen to it...

Asking for directions

The other day found me gritting my teeth in anxiety, hauling a minivan of four kids six and under—one carsick—over the hills of the backwoods of Bryant. When I'd left in a hurry to get my oldest (aka Mr. Carsick) to soccer practice on time, I'd taken a shortcut with what I thought were clear directions. Ah, but here I was, careening around potholed roads with nary a clue as to where I should go next.

My husband was out of town and not accessible on the ol' cell phone. So thinking quickly, I dialed my dad. He's one of those guys born with a map in his head: Strap a blindfold on, spin him around eighty times, and he can still point west. Not only that, but he's quick on the draw with his iphone GPS.

To my relief, he picked up immediately. As soon as I explained my dilemma/ignorance, he was on the computer, and seconds later, he was telling me what buildings I'd expect next and exactly where to turn. In his voice, I could hear his actual enthusiasm to help me. This was right up his alley. Within minutes—and finally on some straight roads—I was headed back toward the known world. The difference between the anxiety of being lost and late was replaced by the peace of a map and landmarks I could trust, not to mention the voice that had been giving me directions for life since before I could talk. He didn't let go of the phone until I was secure and doubtless of my destination. His voice sounded satisfied, happy to help.

Lately I've found myself continually seeking God for His direction on some big issues that are important to me. Sometimes the waiting and uncertainty morph into stealthy, gripping fear. But as I was reminded by my sweet Dad and a well-timed sermon, God's immediate and eager, not reticent, to offer me direction. I may not have the clarity of a cell phone in my ear, but I do have His Spirit. The question's not whether He'll be faithful to lead me into His will—what He wants!—but rather whether I'll allow myself to be filled with faith, patience, and joy as His perfect timing evolves:

If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him. But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind. (James 1:5-6)

He's my shepherd who guides me with rod and staff, who leads me in paths of righteousness for His own Name's sake—in a sense, the ultimate GPS. Bonus: Even I don't even have to worry about being late.

 

 

 

Holes in the holidays

For the last three Christmases as we unpack ornaments to dangle them from our tree, the decorating has carried a ribbon of melancholy. So many of our decorations come from my mother-in-law, a year-long Christmas lover. Three years ago just before her favorite season, she passed away unexpectedly. Her memorial reception was actually decked out for Christmas in her honor. My husband, then 28, was deeply stricken. And my younger two children weren’t old enough to have any memories of her.

But by far, we’re not the only ones who feel holes that the wind blows through at Christmastime. I have at least three friends who will grapple with their first shared-custody Christmas this season, a heartbreaking reminder of the past year’s trauma and loss in their families. Another friend will endure only her second Christmas without her mom, a wound that still feels painfully fresh. And though it seems slight and small in comparison, I wince at yet another Christmas without one of my sisters who lives overseas, now coupled with another sister’s last Christmas before she heads to Thailand for two years. Despite the glimmer in my kids’ eyes; their storybooks with magical, picture-perfect tales of Christmas redemption; and a Christmas tree that nearly always makes my heart lift, reality tears at me.

Grief seems to swell at Christmas, when, more than any other time, hopes are high for above-average beauty, happiness, and perfection. But frankly, on this earth, my hopes will nearly always fall flat as an under baked soufflé. Not to be a pessimist, but after people brought sin to God’s flawless, “very good” magnificence in the Garden of Eden, we were each destined for lives full of gaping, searing holes. And even those of us who’ve found the ultimate Missing Piece—my overseas sister’s Hebraic tattoo probably says it best: we’re finally satisfied—we’re still in the land where vicious kings wipe out entire populations of baby boys; where people kill the Son of God in God’s Name as his mother looks on and a sword pierces her own soul, too.

We’ve still been created for another place. One Advent has been fully realized, and another still finds us “in lonely exile here until the Son of God appears.” Still waiting for Heaven.
As I sit and type, I’m praying for you moms who are nearly bent over inside with pain past, present, or future. I’m praying you’re swept up by the Prince of true Peace who’s even greater than your grief—and by his hope that lifts both your head and your heart.

May you be truly satisfied this Christmas.

The biblical view of things is resurrection—not a future that is just a
consolation for the life we never had but a restoration of the life you always
wanted. This means that every horrible thing that ever happened will not only be
undone and repaired but will in some way make the eventual glory and joy even
greater. (Tim Keller, The Reason for God)

A blogger's prayer

This prayer was very moving to me as a blogger--and a great Kingdom perspective on why, and how, we blog. It was a great reminder to bring our writing back to Jesus and the Gospel whenever possible.

Single-issue voting?

This week, my Revolutionary War-intrigued son was completing a place-value project for math that involved the number of American casualties incurred since our country's birth. At the risk of sounding callous, I'd actually assumed it would be more; as my husband roughly tallied the numbers we viewed, it was very roughly around one million lives lost in war from the Revolutionary War to the present. Considering our present-day-only population of around 307 million, this seemed like a precious and graciously limited price, though still tragic and horrific, to pay for the generous freedoms in which we bask. Proportionately, I assume that many countries have paid much more dearly. But my husband was amazed: For comparison, in the last thirty years, over 45 million babies have been lost to abortion. Forty-five million. If I'm right, that's about five times the city of New York.

This grieves me deeply. I was impacted recently by an intriguing interview between author Randy Alcorn and Mars Hill pastor Mark Driscoll, covering some interesting topics, including abortion. Alcorn pointed out Planned Parenthood's slogan: "Every child a wanted child." He wisely noted that he agrees with this premise, but (in my paraphrase) that Planned Parenthood's conclusion from this premise—taking the lives of the unwanted children—and ours as Christians, which involves changing our culture's value of children and life, among other things—are dramatically different.

He then pointed out something that I won't quickly forget. He noted that some Christians don't have a problem voting for pro-choice candidates because other issues are so important; and there are, indeed, a lot of crucial issues that should not be minimized. But, he asked, would you vote for any candidate who thought that it should be legal for parents to take the life of their three-year-old? Never. Any other issues would clearly be secondary. In this way, how we vote does reveal our true value of the unborn.

I firmly believe that God loves deeply the women who are faced with these agonizing, life-changing decisions and are often utterly alone. I have known and truly loved some of them, and my mom's gently counseled many of them. At a Teen MOPS group the other night, I was reminded of the great courage required of women who choose to keep their babies, and by those who choose to give them up for adoption. I believe God offers forgiveness to women who choose abortion, and I am convicted that as followers of Jesus, we need to be known far more by what we support: healthy, whole women who have options and support; children and families; life-uplifting morality; help and preservation.

But, particularly after watching that interview, I will be a single-issue voter. Because I believe that even those other key issues that are life-preserving--the environment, the poor, the war, the healthcare system, among many—are affected by a person's view of life and the goodness and sacredness of the One who gives it.