God Grows a Blog, God Grows it All

{I'm taking my annual blog break December 20th-January 3rd. I'll be back to kick the year off with my favorite group of writer's for the first Five Minute Friday of 2014!

It's a time for me to refocus and to just relax into life with my family over the holiday. I hope you'll do the same. I hope you'll quiet the noise and take some time to be. 

Be with Jesus who came to be with you. 
Be with the friends and family that God has given you right before your eyes. 

I'm grateful for each of you that take time to read my scribbles in this place. Wherever God takes my word offerings know that you are the dearest of readers to me. I can't wait to share more in 2014. For now here are a few words (and some playlists!) to leave you with as we close the book on 2013.}

Cease striving. I read it in between the lines as I ponder Advent.

It's no accident that our calendar puts this celebration of Christ's coming at the end of the year. A mere week before we start another trip around the sun we sit elbow to elbow in church with candles balanced so that melting wax doesn't scorch our skin to remember the Son who dared to trip around the sun with us in human flesh.

And I can feel the pull when I look at January 1st looming just ahead. The way that I think every year that I have to be more and do more. The words that I write? They burn a hole in my soul some days. They have burned their way from brain, to fingers, to screen and some times it can feel so futile to write post after post to the few that read.

Here is the truth about it all.

God grows a blog. God grows a soul. God grows it all. 

God is a master gardener and He can grow as much as He wants in fallow ground.

I think it was Jennie Allen who said that she has never met a writer who knew exactly what they did to make their words take flight and soar to the top of the bestseller. They all say that they really couldn't explain it. They all say it is God-sized.

What is your dream? What is that thing that you think no one sees even though you pour your heart and soul out and into it? 

Keep doing that. Keep doing the art that makes your soul full and trust that God will take it where it needs to go. 

I know that platform matters. I know that in this world where everyone is a writer or artist or creating something it can seem like there isn't room for more. But might I just say that there isn't room for more, but there is room for you. 

I'm happy to make space on my bench.
I'm happy to scoot over so that you can do your art right next to me.

And if you get that book deal or make that cover art or sing that hit song or sale a billion e-books or get that amazing job or birth a beautiful baby or tackle that pile of laundry or adopt Ugandan orphans or kill all those dust bunnies for good or take cookies to the neighbors or buy your dream house or clean out the attic or whatever it is that you put your hands too...I'm going to be cheering and believing that God grows blogs and souls and He dares to do it any day of the year.

This year I'm embracing God's ability to make much out of little. 

I'm going to keep believing that I don't need thousands of devoted readers. I just need one God who can take my little and make it His much. I want to encourage us all to embrace this truth and then stand on this side of the sun once again a year from now and worship the God who did it all.

{Oh, I almost forgot. Two! Count them two! Playlists for Christmas! Enjoy and allow the gift of music to draw your heart deeper into Christ's coming and promise to come again.}

In the Bleak Midwinter                                         Christmas Shake


{One last thing. I'm finishing up Dressember and I'd love to raise a little more for the work of the International Justice Mission. You can follow the final days of the project on my instagram feed and read more about how you can take part in ad"dress"ing issue of injustice globally.}

These Full and Holy Days

My mind has been drifting back in time this past week. I've been remembering holidays past. Some have been glorious gifts of life and others have been days simply to survive.

I recall tables full of food, more food than anyone should eat. We'd wade into the yard full bellied to pick up pine cones and pecans. My mom would choose the most ill-suited Christmas tree. The one that required the most sawing, cutting and cursing from my father as he shoved it into the tree stand like a too small high heel on a too large lady's foot.

I remember Christmas parties, with dancing and giant video cameras set to record moments more precious than we knew.

Then there is the loss. The last Christmases with ones we loved. Those we still love and the seats that  will forever be empty in our hearts. All of these scenes fill my mind with memories and my senses with cinnamon, nutmeg, bonfires and pumpkin pie.

I've been remembering, but I've also been re-imagining. 

What can a day of thanks be in the midst of a life of thanks? 
What can Christmas be for the Easter people? 
How will my daughter remember these years of childhood wonder? 

When my daughter grows to womanhood, what is it that I want her to know about these holidays, these full and holy days?

I want her to know that every day we embrace the Gospel is a holy day.

A holiday worth celebrating. There is always a reason to give thanks even if that reason is hard found through tears

Each year brings new seats filled and others left vacant. This year we will miss a grandfather, a hero and Christ follower, and we will welcome the littlest among us to take us to the table of wonder like only children can. It is the give and take of the years.

We will celebrate and mourn and find that the two can coexist for those who love God.

We will remember that grace and pain are reliant on one another. 

Jesus gave grace while He gave His own life.

Our thanks is loaded with meaning when it flows from a heart that isn't always grateful.
It is beauty the same as grace covering people who lack grace. 
I freely admit that my heart is not always grateful and grace is not often on my tongue.

I struggle each day to find the thousand gifts that line our lives. I often overlook them. They often get stuck in the corners of life between busyness and my own life-isn't-fair attitude.

These fleeting days that pack the last months of our year are a chance to reclaim thanksgiving in our hearts. A chance to put the year in perspective and remember that great things come from little.

A young girl. A miracle.  A baby. A Savior. All of it is an opportunity to take back the stolen joy from hard years, and up all nights and too much suffering in a world gone mad. Cling to hope and you can find joy in the hardest places.

We are the Easter people year round, but in these months, for a few moments we can be the Easter children wide-eyed with wonder and gratitude over so much given and a King come to redeem it all.

Our Real Need This Christmas

A dirty manger reflecting a rugged cross.
A reflection of death in new life.
A Savior come for the sake of sinful man.

It is in the words of my Advent readings that I see my need. This Savior come is only joy after it has become an indictment (Good News of Great Joy for December 2nd). 

In the Kingdom of God the way up is always down. 

It makes it all the more disheartening that this season has become synonymous with excess. Over spending, over eating, over drinking, over and over again. Year after year we over indulge only to find ourselves guilt ridden on January 1st.

Our real need isn't more. Our real need is for a Savior. 

That tends to be the elephant in the room at our awkward, drink-filled office Christmas parties and our all too often not-so-Norman Rockwell family gatherings. It isn't a wonder that January has been called the worst month of the year for depression. We have made our resolutions and by mid-January we have failed our resolutions but the whole year lies ahead.

And to think that all this bumper to bumper traffic, lights strung by the millions and fist to fist combat for the biggest and best deals is because of a baby in a manger in the tiny no-stoplight town of Bethlehem. 

Advent. The Coming. The first coming that points to a second coming and Hope.

HOPE. 

The King who came and who wrapped Himself in human skin and who was wrapped and swaddled and placed in a humble manger. He is the beacon of hope. He is the indictment on our lives that leads to freedom.

He is the hero who does the unthinkable. He saves His enemies. He saved me.

For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life. Romans 5:10

If Advent is going to bear fruit in this winter season then it has to have a robust affect on our hearts. We can't afford to wait till Christmas day to nod our head to Luke 2 and sing a few songs.

It is in the midst of wrapping paper and Christmas cookies that we have to acknowledge all the ugly in our hearts. We have to acknowledge our need. Not our need of one more Christmas gift for the cousins or the need for a new wreath for the front door.

We have to acknowledge our great need for a Savior.  Jesus already bought His gift for you. Paid for it not on credit, but with His life's blood.

You can't out give Him.

The way to thrive this season is to stop striving and admit your need. Enjoy the lights. Hang the greenery. Decorate trees. Eat cookies. Sing loud the ancient carols. Celebrate.

It is true joy when you've found real joy. The real filling to our real need.

The God Who Is With Us

It as about a year ago when my husband and I looked at each other and knew that it was time.

It was time to stop waiting around for something to happen and for our circumstances to change. We made a decision to step out into the unknown and chase a dream and we weren't sure what that would mean.

By April we were moving and raising support to cover all our needs. I remember writing these words with knots in my soul. I confess I wasn't sure that God was going to meet us in the midst of our mess. I was afraid that it would be just that; a mess.

I found myself sounding like a broken record player with trite words ringing "God better show up!" and "We need God to meet us where we are."

But the truth is that God didn't have to show up.

He was already there. He has always been there. 

Emmanuel. God with us.

I'm happy to be sharing the rest of this God-sized story over at my sweet friend Diane Bailey's place. She is doing a whole months worth of posts from folks this Christmas season and was sweet enough to include me in that. Seriously ya'll, go spend some time over at Diane's place. She is as sweet as my grandma's tea and full of such grace and wisdom. I'm blessed she asked me to scatter my words over there today and I would love for you to read! 

Taking Time

It happens every year, but we always seem to act surprised. These holidays roll around and time warps and it can be so easy for life to warp.

We see through a glass dimly and between pumpkin pie, peppermint mochas, and sales ads we can find it easier to enter a holi-daze. A get the shopping done, bake the cookies, and trim the tree induced stupor that leaves us ready for the New Year so that we can make a fresh start.

This season should be our fresh start and not a time to exhaust ourselves with passing things.

Isn't this season all about birth and new life? 
Aren't we counting advent and all the days down to the remembrance of a singular glorious day?

I managed to squeeze a minor in philosophy into my three years of college. I found in those few years a fascination with time. I read Boethius and pondered Aristotle and acted like I understood it all, but the truth is I was only able to understand one thing; God is bigger than time and our days are numbered by an eternal God.

I like to boil that down to this one joy filling, life giving, heart dancing thing. 
 
In Christ, time belongs to us. 
Time is ours for the taking. 

Those days when you think that you simply must get this or that done at the expense of all the things that really matter...STOP. Those days when you think that you need to send that one more email while the baby plays by herself...STOP. Those days when you think that turning the t.v. on rather than talking face to face with the one you love...STOP. Those early mornings when you bounce onto facebook rather than cracking the Word...STOP. Take time and make it give joy in return.

I often complain that I don't have the time. I don't have time to give selflessly. I don't have time to listen fully. I don't have time to read one more book...sing one more song...open my heart just a little bit more. If I'm honest I don't have time because I don't take time.

Time is there for the taking. We take time and we mold it into something that works for us. The bigger job is molding it into something that works for the Gospel alive in our lives and the lives of those we love.

Some of us are planners and others of us are confessedly not planners. I would say that most of us land somewhere in that no man's land in between. We try to plan, but the best laid plans of mice and men...sigh...The only thing I know for sure is if we don't take time, time will take us. It will take us for a tilt-a-whirl type ride that finds us wrapping presents in the car on the way to grandma and grandpa's.

Take time and bleed it dry. This holiday season take time and squeeze all the goodness out of it.

I'm not going to phone it in this season and I'm not going to weary myself without reason. I'm not going to let the hustle and bustle get the best of me. In all this waiting and longing that is Advent I'm going to wait long at the feet of Jesus and share some of that with you, my friends. I'm going to take time for all it is worth.

Join me in the taking.

When Rising is Hard After He is Risen

We sang our hearts out, Glory Hallelujah, yesterday over a King risen and victorious, but today we have to keep walking forward in this broken world and looking long and hard for His presence when all we see are the cracks. 

The truth is that the Easter story doesn't change our life's circumstances, but it sure does change the reality that we walk in. 

The stone in front of that tomb looked immovable, impenetrable, but it wasn't and bursting through brighter than the sun our King came and all that was left were a few rags. For those who have put their faith in the Resurrection- and it was a Resurrection because no King, no real, righteous King fakes death- we can rise up today the Easter people and we can throw off rags and rejoice. This isn't an April Fool's hoax. Whatever righteousness we thought was ours is filthy rags and He offers us white, unstained garments rap to around our cold hearts and bring us into the light to warm in His presence. It is truth of the truest and most valuable kind.

The celebration doesn't have to stop on Easter Sunday. In heaven the celebration never stops.

We get Jesus for all eternity. When He cried out "It is finished" He meant it from that moment forward. We can walk in that truth and believe that He is, even now, doing the work of redeeming it all. The broken, the busted, the leaky sieve that is a life that just won't hold water against the bumps and bruises of this world, He came to redeem it all and the work that He finished is a story that calls us to life. It shouts us up out of death. Admit we're dead and admit He is alive and that is when the Resurrection happens all over gain in our hearts.

He calls our dead souls to rise right up out of the grave and tell the story to every dead heart we meet.

Awake, awake, O heart of mine!
Sing praise to God above;
Take up the song of endless years,
And sing redeeming love!
Redeemed by Him Who bore my sins,
When on the cross He died;
Redeemed and purchased with His blood,
Redeemed and sanctified.
                                      ~Fanny Crosby

These Full and Holy Days

My mind has been drifting back in time this past week. I've been remembering holidays past. Some have been glorious gifts of life and others have been days simply to survive. I recall tables full of food, more food than anyone should eat. We'd wade into the yard full bellied to pick up pine cones and pecans. My mom would choose the most ill-suited Christmas tree. The one that required the most sawing, cutting and cursing from my father as he shoved it into the tree stand like a too small high heel on a too large lady's foot. I remember Christmas parties, with dancing and giant video cameras set to record moments more precious than we knew. Then there is the loss. The last Christmases with one's we loved. Those we still love and who's seats will always be empty in our hearts till the end. All of these scenes fill my mind with memories and my senses with cinnamon, nutmeg, bonfires and pumpkin pie.

I've been remembering, but I've also been re-imagining. 

What can a day of thanks be in the midst of a life of thanks? 
What can Christmas be for the Easter people? 
How will my daughter remember these years of childhood wonder? 

When my daughter grows to womanhood, what is it that I want her to know about these holidays, these full and holy days. I want her to know that every day we embrace the Gospel is a holy day. A holiday worth celebrating. There is always a reason to give thanks even if that reason is hard found through tears.

Each year brings new seats filled and others left vacant. This year we will miss a grandfather, a hero and Christ follower, and we will welcome a little girl with two teeth, no hair and smiles to share. It is the give and take of the years. We will celebrate and mourn and find that the two can coexist for those who love God. We will remember that grace and pain are reliant on one another. That Jesus gave grace with His own life.

Our thanks is loaded with meaning when it flows from a heart that isn't always grateful.
It is beauty the same as grace covering people who lack grace. 
I freely admit that my heart is not always grateful and grace is not often on my tongue.

I struggle each day to find the thousand gifts that line our lives. I often overlook them. They often get stuck in the corners of life between busyness and my own life-isn't-fair attitude. These fleeting days that pack the last months of our year are a chance to reclaim thanksgiving in our hearts. A chance to put the year in perspective and remember that great things come from little. A young girl. A miracle.  A baby. A Savior. They are an opportunity to take back the stolen joy from hard years, and up all nights and too much suffering in a world gone mad.

We are the Easter people year round, but in these months, for a few moments we can be the Easter children wide-eyed with wonder and gratitude over so much given and a King come to redeem it all.