Revive Me

Here's a post I wrote for another blog:
http://thevoiceconference.org/staff-blog/2013/12/14/1180/

“My soul clings to the dust; revive me according to your Word.” ~Psalm 119:25

"I sought the Lord and he answered me and delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to him are radiant, and their faces shall never be ashamed." ~Psalm 34:4-5

A post about Faith.

Mandarin Scrabble: Slimy Serendipity

Reblogging from mine and David's other blog about Taiwan:
Mandarin Scrabble: Slimy Serendipity: I'm sure you all know that moment when you are slurping a delicious peach lemonade slush and you get your first little slimy chun...

Sometimes the doubts roll in like waves powered by a storm. Sometimes fear shakes the sails and tosses my boat like a leaf. I may cling to hope. I may think the storm will end soon or that I can manage its fury.

   Sometimes when my doubts and fears swell, I grab a bucket and start bailing. I bail with my logic first, using old formulas and truths to attempt to smother the hurricane. I yell into the wind as it slashes at my face. I ignore the waves that rush on and on.

   But soon, ignoring is no longer an option. I’m sinking and I’m desperate. Now, I blindly switch from bailing furiously to clinging to the mast. I’m trying to at least figure out what went wrong, before I sink into the deep.

   I remember something. Like an old forgotten song, the memory comes drifting in. I didn’t climb into this boat alone. I didn’t want to cross the cloudy sea. Jesus got in with me. He told me to go this way. And then I see Him, sleeping in the front of the boat.

   I’m angry. How could He rest, while I fight the storm alone? How could He bring me this way then let my peace blow away? “Don’t you care, Lord? Don’t you care that I’ll die?”

   How long would Jesus have slept, if the disciples hadn’t wakened Him? “Where’s your faith?” He asked His quaking friends. I don’t think He was angry they disturbed His rest. The problem was their doubt that He cared.

   Bartemaeus may have been blind from birth. He may have never learned to read the law or the prophets. How did he know about the significance of the Messiah? His parents left him outside, hoping that pity would draw in an income. I don’t know if anyone ever believed that he could be anything but a beggar.

   When he heard Jesus was passing by, he didn’t silently cling to hope. There was quite the crowd passing through and people standing to watch. Bartemaeus didn’t sit and hope that he would get extra money because of the multitude.

   He yelled out, trying to be heard above the din, “Jesus, have mercy on me!” People tried to hush him. It was embarrassing to have such a welcome into their city. He was an annoying, good-for-nothing, burden to society and now he was making a scene.

   Would Jesus have passed right on by, if Bartemaeus hadn’t cried out? I may never know, but I know he was healed because of his faith.

   So, where are you? Are you in the boat sinking or are you way past hope of ever being healed? Are you feeling overwhelmed and beyond understanding? Jesus is near. Will you put down your bailing bucket? Will you let go of the mast? Will you stop sitting idly by? Will you call to Him for mercy?

My soul clings to You; Your right hand upholds me. ~Psalm 63:8

Though the angry surges roll
On my tempest-driven soul,
I am peaceful, for I know,
Wildly though the winds may blow,
I’ve an anchor safe and sure,
That can evermore endure.
And it holds, my anchor holds:
Blow your wildest, then, O gale,
On my bark so small and frail;
By His grace I shall not fail,
For my anchor holds, my anchor holds.

~William C. Martin

Photo credit: [theprojectroom/etsy]

The Light of the World

“It is not for us to prophesy the day (though the day will come) when men will once more be called so to utter the Word of God that the world will be changed and renewed by it. It will be a new language, perhaps quite non-religious, but liberating and redeeming –as was Jesus’ language; it will shock people and yet overcome them by its power; it will be the language of a new righteousness and truth, proclaiming God’s peace with men and the coming of His kingdom.” –Dietrich Bonhoeffer

The woman was of no consequence when the Pharisees brought her to Jesus. They didn’t care about her life or her shame; they simply wanted to catch Him off-guard. It didn’t matter who she was or even that a man had also been involved in the adultery, they needed to trap this teacher and they had a plan.

I wonder what they thought would happen when they brought her before Jesus. Did they see Him as someone who was too compassionate to approve a death sentence? Did they think that was proof against His validity? Did they hope for the crowd to be appalled at Jesus’ dishonoring Moses’ law? Or did they think He would stone her and the multitude would turn away in disgust as the Romans arrested Him for murder?

It doesn’t say what was written in the sand while the accusers pressed Jesus for an answer, but I wonder if it was the names of their sins. What if, while they railed against this woman for her adultery, Jesus was calmly shining a light on their own secret faults? And when He spoke the words that cut to the heart, “He who is without sin among you, let him throw a stone at her first” (John 8:7), did they look down and see the sand putting a finger on their festering wound?

It was their moment before the Light of the World. He spoke straight to their hearts, but they cowered away, for “the light has come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light” (John 3:19). But the woman stayed. She stood in the midst of that crowd and she waited for Jesus to look up. Then that great Light turned on her and she didn’t turn away.

His words to her are beautiful and they are the same words that I believe Jesus speaks to us today. When I let the light shine into my darkest corners, when I bring out my best-kept secrets, He looks into me and asks, as He did that day, “Woman, where are your accusers?” And I look around, as I imagine she might have. I try to remember why I was so scared of naming my dreaded crimes, but the crippling chains of the dark fade in the light of life. “For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might be saved” (John 3:17).

How is it that no matter how many times I have read the Bible and spoken with my Savior I still imagine Him as waiting to condemn me? How can I be so dumb, again and again, thinking I can earn favor by ignoring my sins? My soul is crippled by this world’s philosophies, by my flesh’s desires, by Satan’s lies, and when Jesus’ light shines into my heart I want to turn away and flee into the shadows. But when the Light comes He does not bring condemnation.

He comes with arms open. After all, He came in love when I was “dead in trespasses” (Ephesians 2:5) to die for my sins. Is it so strange that He should come to me now, when I am His child, and wash my dirty hands with compassion in His eyes? “And Jesus said to her, ‘Neither do I condemn you; go and sin no more’” (John 8:11). His light might hurt, at first. It might be embarrassing and difficult, but it brings life.

“I am the light of the world. He who follows Me shall not walk in darkness, but have the light of life.” ~John 8:12

(Much of my thought on this subject was inspired by Andy Stanley’s 9 part sermon entitled Defining Moments.)

God is for You

It was a normal occurrence for Jesus and His disciples to go to the Mount of Olives, but I imagine He walked up with a little different attitude on that night. His soul was in agony. Perhaps His feet dragged a little as He asked His disciples to watch and pray. His manner, his urgency, made the moment sink into their hearts and their sorrow overwhelmed them to the point of sleep. Jesus went on, a stone throw away, and then knelt down to pour out His grief to the Father. Despite being comforted by an angel, His anxiety produced drops of blood on His forehead.

It was agonizing and yet the disciples could offer no compassion, no comfort; they slept. Peter, who had boasted to follow his friend and Lord to the death (only hours before), was shaken awake twice. Hurt must have stricken Jesus’ face as He looked into His friend’s eyes and asked, “What? Could you not watch with Me one hour?” Peter answered his plea by again falling asleep. I have often wondered if Peter would have watched and prayed would he have fallen into temptation and listened to his fears.

Within a few hours that ghastly moment came. Peter did as Jesus had foretold and denied Him three times. Jesus was at His darkest hour. He had been abandoned by His friends, tortured and ridiculed by His enemies, and the moment His heart dreaded was still before Him. And yet, standing in the midst of His accusers, Jesus turned and looked at Peter. It was the very moment when he had rejected Him for the third time. What was it in His eye as He acknowledged His close friend’s betrayal? Hurt? Pity? Love? Perhaps, it was all three.

The thought that struck me upon my most recent reading of this story was: Surely, God is for us. This was Jesus' darkest moment. He was in pain that could never be imagined. And yet, in that moment He was so personal, so attentive, that He turned His eye upon Peter. He could not let His friend off the hook, for grief would bring repentance. Jesus had so many things distressing His mind, the very guilt of the world preparing to fall upon His shoulders. The beautiful thing about this moment is that God is never so universally loving that he is no longer personally loving. He is not so caught up in solving the large problems of the world or even the large problems of individuals that He stops caring for the smaller problems and hurts.

This is evident in many other stories. Take for example Christ’s weeping at Lazarus tomb. He told His disciples that it was good for Him to tarry that the disciples might believe. Lazarus’ resurrection must have made a lasting impression on the entire community, perhaps even the entire nation, as well as Christians of all ages and yet in that moment, at the tomb, Jesus wept for the pain of Mary and Martha.

I have often heard the phrase “God is for you” spoken throughout my life. I thought of it as a sort of overstatement of what was quite obvious. Of course God is for me. He paid for my sins. He loves me. He has blessed me abundantly. Of course He is not against me. However, the picture that is now beginning to form in my mind is one that is much more personal. God is not simply for me in a universal, colossal way, but also in a nitty gritty, thick and thin sort of way. David often writes of this idea in the Psalms and the picture he describes is God fighting on His behalf. Psalm 18 may be one of the best examples. He writes of God coming down on the dark thunder clouds, not only in an amazing rescue from his enemies, but also as his support and his friend. Verses 16-19 say, “He sent from above, He took me; He drew me out of many waters. He delivered me from my strong enemy, from those who hated me, for they were too strong for me. They confronted me in the day of my calamity, but the LORD was my support. He also brought me out into a broad place; He delivered me because He delighted in me.”

Can you see it? Can you see yourself in the dark hour of battle? You are surrounded, but at your side is the undefeatable One. He doesn’t rescue us from every trying moment, but fights with us against every foe. He is there, at your side, shouting encouragement, supporting within and without. Do you hear His voice in the midst of your pain and disappoints? “Child, I’m with you and I’m for you.”

You number my wanderings; put my tears into Your bottle; are they not in Your book? When I cry out to You, then my enemies will turn back; this I know, because God is for me. ~ Psalm 56:8-9

My Room

This is mostly for the curiosity of my family. Here is the room where I am staying. I have a lovely Hibiscus plant in the corner, which I have decided to call Herman. He is a little bit ornery. He insists on being moved to the very middle of the room on sunny days even though it is quite obvious he looks better in that corner. Plus, I won't trip over him as much.

 This is the other corner of the room. As you can see, I keep my laptop in that far corner because that is where I catch the best internet signal. Right now, I am perched on the edge of my bed so I can type and not lose the signal. Unfortunately, the things I untidily tossed under the bed can also be seen...opps.

This is the outer sitting room that leads to my bedroom. The couch is quite comfortable and the host of many movie parties. (Andrew, you might be pleased to note the puzzle I'm doing.)

This is one of the delightful mongrels who protect the house. Their main joy in life is rubbing against my legs once they have swam in the pond or splashed through a mud puddle. One of the dogs finds the most pleasure in lying  belly up on top of my feet and biting at my ankles. Thankfully, they do understand and respond, mostly, to the English phrase "go away", when spoken in a very serious voice.

These are the delightful two with whom I spend most of my time. Joy is on the left side and her older sister Carmen is on the right. They are precious and have taught me many things over the past few weeks. I'm very grateful to have the opportunity to know them. :)









The verse that has meant a great deal over the past few weeks is John 10:27-28. "My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me. And I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; neither shall anyone snatch them out of My hand." It's amazing to watch a large herd of sheep gently and patiently led by only one shepherd. Though they are so many and it looks a bit like chaos at times, they follow the voice of their shepherd. Surely, our Shepherd is much greater for He not only speaks to us and knows us, but He holds us in His hand.