Mother's Day

Sometime between your early adolescence and your late teenage years, you start saying things like: “When I grow up, I want to be just like ______.”  And then you live a quarter century and realize that you have now effectively “grown up” but you still have not become that person you wanted to be.  Luckily, with the advent of modern science, those who were once older than you continue to age at the same rate you do, and those wise grown-ups you always looked up to continue to teach you things.

I don’t think it’s fair that some people must search their whole life for inspiration when mine lives in my own family.  Then again, there is nothing about grace that is fair.

I was born with three built-in role models.  Mothers who—as I’ve learned to appreciate them—have taught me how to be a Godly woman.

= = =

My mom has taught me that if you see something that needs to be changed, you have to change it.  She is not okay with being passive or with standing by and watching—she wants to do.  Not because she is a control freak (although the alphabetized spice rack, color-coded mail folders, and Q-tip-cleaned stove top might cause you to think otherwise)—she does things because she cares about things getting done.  Her every move seems to be motivated by the truth that “It is sin to know what you ought to do and then not do it” (James 4:17).

On a practical level, she has taught me how to be organized and efficient—which can be a curse when I find myself shuttering at the thought of an item being placed in the wrong kitchen drawer but has been an immeasurable blessing as I have navigated earning a college degree, living on my own, and balancing work and life.

Mom doesn’t do things just for the sake of accomplishment, she does things because she cares about people.  Last weekend she itemized the grocery list and pre-labeled the serving bowls so that she could fill our house with people we love.  I can’t remember a Thanksgiving in recent years where we didn’t have at least one non-family member at the dinner table because she has to do something about people who don’t have a place to celebrate that day.  It seems that every time I visit home there is a new group of young kids who sheepishly introduce themselves to me at church because Mom whispered to them, “Look, that’s my girl!”; it turns out, my mom is a pseudo mom to an ever-growing group of kids, and she is constantly serving others by opening up her home and offering to watch their kids.  It’s not uncommon for me to come home and find that Mom’s car is missing because she let someone use it for the weekend or to smell a fresh-cooked meal in the oven that she’s preparing for the homeless ministry she serves in.  My mom never stops going, because she never stops caring.

My love for worship comes from my mom.  It doesn’t take long after our family is gathered at home for the worship jam session to break out.  We all sort of independently mosey in to the living room and, before you know it, everyone has an instrument, and Mom is standing up with one hand anchored on the piano guiding us with emphatic hand motions on who will take melody and who will take harmony when we get to the chorus.  (Thomas is a mainstay on keys, and now that Evan is an awesome guitar player, I usually opt to get a few bangs in on the djembe—Mom, I can’t give you credit for those skills, that’s all me).  The room is filled with laughter just as much as it is with enthusiastic songs to our God.  Thanks to Mom, I think I will enter Heaven singing loudly.

= = =

My dad’s mom, Grams, has taught me the art of hospitality.  It is so effortless for her, the way she prepares a space for people to feel welcomed and cared for.  When you arrive at Grams’ house, there is already a spread of delicious snacks sitting on the counter, soft worship music playing in the background, and—if it’s winter time—a fire in the fireplace.  It feels as if she has been waiting and anticipating your arrival all day long, and as you enter through the door way, she slowly approaches you with a warm embrace that, in and of itself, says, I am so glad you are here.  And suddenly, everything feels at peace.  This is not special treatment that just her grandkids get, either (although, I like to think that not EVERYONE gets to leave Grams’ house with two Tupperwares full of homemade cookies and a bag of opera fudge).  Grams and Grandpa have turned their home in to a bed and breakfast where they serve people like this all throughout the year.  I know for a fact that Grams doesn’t just wash the sheets and prepare meals for her guests—she prays over them and speaks to them about the goodness of the Lord, knowing that “People do not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God” (Matthew 4:4).

Grams is so caring and genuinely takes an interest in the lives of others.  When she asks me what I want to do when I’m at her house, sometimes I feel a little guilty to admit that all I’d really like to do is sit in one of her big arm chairs with a cup of coffee and talk to her about life.  She is such a great listener, knowing exactly when to ask exactly the right questions, when to share her refined wisdom, and when to just let me talk and tell stories.

Grams is calm and gentle, but her faith roars like a lion.  The last time I visited with her she was telling me more about her run-ins with cancer earlier in life (I was too young to remember the details).  After having had surgery to have the cancer removed, she got some scary results on a scan a couple of years later.  When she arrived at the doctor’s office to talk about next steps, the doctor told her, “This is very odd, but your scan today doesn’t show anything.”  Grams replied, “Great!  God healed me!  I’m going home,” and quickly left.  You can’t help but feel strengthened in her presence.  You feel like you want to stand close to her just hoping that some of that faith will rub off on you.

= = =

My mom’s mom, Grandmama, wears the Gospel of Christ everywhere she goes.  She was that embarrassing grandmother who would talk to every waitress we had at a restaurant, every cashier in the checkout line, and really just any non-suspecting person who was in her line of sight.  I remember one time my brother and I were walking out of the grocery store with Grandmama and Papa, and Grandmama had stopped in the parking lot to talk to someone about Jesus.  Papa and I had walked a bit ahead at this point, and I looked up at him after several minutes of waiting and said, “Ughhh, aren’t you going to tell her to hurry up?!”  He just smiled and shook his head because he knew—God made her for this.  I’m no longer embarrassed by Grandmama’s public declarations of the Gospel.  In fact, I try to make mental notes when I watch her so seamlessly transition in to a conversation about faith that quickly has the other person in tears, their heart being softened.  But no one does it quite like Grandmama does.

Grandmama’s entire life—every waking minute—is surrendered to the Lord.  The first thing she does every morning when she wakes up is pray for all of her family members.  I have to believe that those prayers are at least part of the reason why my family and I have remained loyal to God’s plans over the years—“The  earnest prayer of a righteous person has great power and produces wonderful results” (James 5:17).  When you’re visiting at Grandmama’s house, it’s not uncommon to be sitting around TV only to look over and see that Grandmama has her glasses lowered on her nose and is flipping through the pages of her Bible.  It’s as if she can’t go even a couple of hours without ingesting the word of God.

When we were young, I remember long visits at Grandmama’s house in the beautiful Florida sunshine.  In the mornings, the kids would sit at the table eating breakfast, and Grandmama would sit with us and read us daily devotionals and scripture verses.  At the time, I was a kid and thought, Is THIS how we’re going to be spending our vacation???  I think I would have preferred to be outside riding in the golf cart or swimming in the pool.  But looking back on it, I think those times are part of what contributed to my love for God’s word and taught me how to have quiet time with Him.  I will never stop learning from Grandmama’s life of obedience.

= = =

I pray to become like just one of these women.  Or maybe, like Jesus, I’ll go for the trifecta.

Quite literally, I would not be here today without any one of them.  But I also know for certain that I would not be the follower of Christ that I am without the influence of them all.  I am blessed by the lessons they teach with their lives.  I love you all dearly!  Happy Mother’s Day.

Fridays

Everything is better on Fridays. Despite the number of nights I worked late this week or how many emails I still have to get through or what the weather looks like outside, life just feels better on Friday. You know you're in the home stretch and you feel a thousand feet tall to take on everything that stands between you and two days of rest, recharging, and fun. I'm typing this as I sit on the comfy couches in our building lobby because I thought, "It's Friday! I'm ‘bout to take a mid-morning break!"

Today, in a small way (a very small way), I sense what it's like to anticipate Heaven. To know that there is something coming that is better, and to long for it. There is something in your spirit that senses that. How incredible the anticipation should be for not just two days of rest and running errands, but an eternity of rest and NO to-do lists (Heaven, come down!). I want my soul to long for it.

“…we fix our gaze on things that cannot be seen. For the things we see now will soon be gone, but the things we cannot see will last forever.” (2 Corinthians 4:18)

Why Parenthood made me quit Parenthood and other reasons why it is the best show on TV

I haven't been a "show" person since the days when I used to tune in to the ongoing sagas of the Smoke Monster on Lost. Even then, I was, admittedly, one of those annoying followers who was "OBSESSED WITH THAT SHOW" but never really knew what was going on (did anyone?).

Until now. And until Parenthood.

I've gotten to know the Bravermans over the last six weeks or so as I've sped through the first 44 episodes on Netflix. While I miss that anticipatory feeling of waiting ALL DAY for 8pm and then gripping your seat like a kid on a roller coaster as you *sush* everyone in the room to hear the words "Next week, on [TV Show]...", I've learned that "binge watching" has what can only be compared to drug-addictive properties that I can't get enough of.

I could go on and on about all the things I love about and have learned from Parenthood. But I think my favorite theme is the value of a consistent lifestyle. Adam Braverman, the show's main protagonist, does not live an extraordinary life. He works a common job and has a common family with common problems. What makes him so likeable is not that he goes on crazy adventures or lives out his dreams, it's that he is loyal, loving, and available to the people in his life. Is this the greatest accomplishment we've all missed in the pursuit of living an interesting and dynamic life?

Jesus thought so: “The most important commandment is this: Love the Lord your God with all your heart and love your neighbor as yourself.”

The only way I can think to describe all of the emotions I experience during an episode of Parenthood is like a Jackson Pollock painting: just a bunch of stuff thrown up there all at once.

And then I cry.

I should have known that these reeling Parenthood emotions would one day become too much for their own good and that all of the life lessons would implode on one another. Alas, Parenthood has successfully convinced me to stop watching Parenthood.

For all the thoughtfulness and heart lessons that this show has afforded me, I also realized that my habit has become: get home from work, abandon all necessary and/or beneficial responsibilities, sit and watch Parenthood. And eat. It’s not spiritually healthy. I can convince myself that I'm just "unwinding" or that "I worked all day and deserve this," but a beer, an order of Thai food, and half a bag of chips later, I've "unwound" in a slothful and disobedient way.

(Warning: If you haven't made it to Season 3, Episode 9 yet, there may be spoilers that follow. If you've made it PAST Season 3, Episode 9: DON’T TELL ME ANYTHING.)

Last night I watched as Seth checked himself in to rehab, worked hard to get sober, and then (after getting out of rehab) humbly made the decision to move to a new city, knowing that it was the best decision for the people he loved—even though it's not what he wanted and even though everything he'd ever dreamed of having was right at his fingertips. He just walked away—from his addiction and then from HIS vision for his life so that others could be happy.

And I continued to eat.

This morning I thought about these Bible verses:

“In your struggle against sin, you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood.” (Hebrews 12:4)

“And if your hand--even your stronger hand--causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away.” (Matthew 5:30)

If we live our lives according to Scripture, we are required to take extreme measures to avoid sin and temptation. God knows that sin is not a light matter. Jesus has already paid the price for it, but sin still separates us from God, and that’s why He takes it so seriously.

I've heard about and seen many people check themselves in to rehab or make an appointment with a counselor, but for some reason, when Seth walked away, I knew that I need to start walking away too.

What situations do I put myself in that make me vulnerable to sin? What measures am I taking to ensure that I don't go anywhere near sin? I know that watching Parenthood (or any TV show, or surfing social media) at night will lead to gluttony and apathy, and so I must quit.

“But if we are to share his glory, we must also share his suffering.” (Romans 8:17)

Sometimes I think about suffering for Christ. I think about that oldest pastor line in the book: "If you're not suffering because of your faith, you're probably doing something wrong." And you're sitting in your chair or pew looking up at the guy thinking, "Man, I can't remember the last time I was spat on or made fun of because of Jesus or stoned because I follow Him...do people even still do that?"

In Jesus' time, suffering for Him oftentimes meant public ridicule and physical persecution. In some parts of the world, that's still the case. But in America, where it's "trendy" to be #blessed and cool to wear a cross on your Urban Outitters crew neck, suffering for Christ might look more like not watching Parenthood because you know it will lead you to temptation and far from Him.

Have I become a soft, undisciplined Christian who wants to have her cake and eat it too?  Who wants to follow Christ and give up as little as possible?

I think there are some wonderfully redeeming themes in Parenthood, and, really, I sort of have to find out if Drew ever outgrows his painful awkwardness, if Crosby ever FINALLY puts a ring on it, and if Haddie ever grows out her curly bangs.  So, in the interest of full disclosure, I will probably keep watching Parenthood. But I will do so only in the light of day, where I am free from temptation:


For you are all children of the light and of the day; we don’t belong to darkness and night. So be on your guard, not asleep like the others. Stay alert and be clearheaded. Night is the time when people sleep and drinkers get drunk. But let us who live in the light be clearheaded, protected by the armor of faith and love, and wearing as our helmet the confidence of our salvation. (1 Thessalonians 5:5-8)

2014

Today, the office’s steady hum of keyboard clicks and weather conversations was wonderfully interrupted by bouncing footsteps and footballs as several kids roamed the halls.  It’s New Year’s Eve, and with most kids off from school, parents were forced to either hire a babysitter or “divide and conquer,” as one coworker told me—“Dad’s at home with the baby, and I’m here with this little guy.”  The squealing, miniature humans were a welcome addition to the already-stirring holiday excitement at work.

At one point during the day, I walked in to the kitchenette to find one such little girl, probably no more than seven years old, reaching to fill her bottle in the water cooler.  Not wanting to scare or intimidate her, I didn’t say anything at first.  And then she took the lead:

“Have I seen you yet?”

I smiled and looked back at her, “No, I don’t think we’ve met!  My name is Allison.  What’s yours?” 

“McKinley, but my little brother calls me Kinley.”

We exchanged a few more words, and our conversation ended with her asking me if I would be here later this week (she’s coming back).

I was so struck by McKinley’s openness, gentleness, and kind spirit, and soon the words of Christ whispered to my memory:

“Let the children come to me. Don’t stop them! For the Kingdom of God belongs to those who are like these children. I tell you the truth, anyone who doesn’t receive the Kingdom of God like a child will never enter it.” (Luke 18:16-17)

How incredible that childhood holds the secrets to a life of faith!  How often I try to prove my knowledge of scripture, learn more theology, and defend more ideology.  How often I try to accomplish more for God and go to more places for His name.

What I could stand to do is be more like McKinley: befriend others and be gentle, open.

I pray that in 2014, my pursuit of spiritual maturity does not propel me forward toward lofty intelligence but backwards toward child-like love and faithfulness.

Fully clean

If I had a dime for every time I’ve heard the phrase: 

“I know deep down [they’re] a good person.” 

...I’d have piles of dimes too high to climb.  But the Gospel, a new paradigm, does not tell us we’re good inside.  It tells us that we’re sick, we’ve fallen short, we are in need.  And Jesus, Son of God, comes and makes us clean. 

But now, I find that a new lie has come alive.  A lie that lets me think that “deep down inside” I’m still that sick, lost, depraved soul that I once was.  A lie that makes me feel like my righteousness is layers of clothing I put on, making me warmer and warmer until you rip the zippers, tear apart the seams and see the real me—withered, cold.  A lie that assumes my attempts to live clean are just those—attempts, that very often fall short.  When I am successfully “walking in step with the Spirit”—avoiding temptation, standing up to sin, loving from an overflow of joy within—it feels like merely an act; soon I’ll walk off stage and go back to being me. 

The “me” that longs for less than God’s best.   
The “me” that has a continual lust for more.   
The “me” that’s stuck.   
The “me” whose desires wreak havoc and devour my soul. 

But my life is not a tight rope, and what’s “right” is not a cloak I don.  The old is totally gone.  The stage I’m standing on is grace, and I will not be replaced with an under study or anybody who’s not me, redeemed.  I’m fully clean, through and through.  I don’t always do what I should do or what I want to do but if there’s one thing that’s always true it’s that I have what I don’t deserve—salvation. 


Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation.  The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. (2 Corinthians 5:17) 

You, however, are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if in fact the Spirit of God dwells in you…If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his spirit who dwells in you. (Romans 8:9-11) 

And you, who were dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made alive together with him, having forgiven us all our trespasses. (Colossians 2:13) 

Eating pears in peace

This morning, after getting in to work at 6:56am and getting right to work, I had approximately 8 minutes before my 8:00 meeting.  I grabbed the pear I had packed in my Vera Bradley lunch bag along with three stiff paper towels from our company break room and sat back down in the exact spot where I spend at least 160 hours per month (one of which I'd already put in this morning) my desk chair.  I took one bite and my mind immediately raced again to what I could look at, read, accomplish.  What small task could I accomplish in the (now) 7 minutes before my meeting?  What website could I pull up to blur my eyes over for a few minutes?  Who has instagrammed since the last time I checked?

But this morning, I decided to wait.  Pear juice flowing down my chin, puddling on the paper towels below and splashing on to the space bar of my keyboard, I decided to spend just a few minutes in peace.

I realized how little time I allow for peace to work its way in, and then I wonder why I don't have any.  Too much work, too much social media, too much stimulation. Be still and know. 

Trouble, Trouble, Trouble

“Now my soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour.  Father, glorify your name!” (John 12:27)

If we find ourselves in life circumstances that are difficult, perhaps we must consider that there is a “very reason” for us being there.  At the least, we can know that there was a “very reason” for Jesus to be in His moments of difficultly, and so we can rejoicingly participate with Him in suffering (1 Peter 4:13).

Certainly, none of us are Jesus.  Not one of us is destined to die for the salvation of all mankind.  I think about the countless times in the book of Psalms where David pleas with God for help…

“Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to me neck…”

“Deliver me from sinking in the mire…”

“O Lord, do not delay”

“Rescue me, O God, from the hand of the wicked…”

“O my God, make haste to help me!”

Asking God to save us from our trouble is not wrong.  But we must realize what our trouble may be accomplishing and the significance it might have.  Not the least of which is that our suffering increases our dependency on Christ.  And our choice to actually depend on Him in trouble—to sit in our moments of anxiety, sadness, confusion, and turmoil believing that Christ is the only solid rock on which we stand rather than retreating to vices or distractions—will “glorify His name”.

Gravity

Gravity wants to bring me down.

Keep me where the light is.

His Mighty Power

When you can’t write or sing or run.  When you can’t clean or cook or cook and clean.  When you can’t be together.  When you can’t lift a fist to morning.  When you can’t slow down enough to hear your thoughts.  When how you are is “good”.

“Be strong in the Lord and in His mighty power.” (Ephesians 6:10)

Twenty Twelve

For some reason I didn’t give much thought to the fact that yesterday was the last day of the year.  Maybe it’s because once you enter the working world, New Year’s Eve feels pretty much just like any other Saturday night.  I did, however, start yesterday, December 31, 2012, by Instagram-ing the following picture and accompanying caption:

At the time, it was just another beautiful sunrise over Mt. Washington and an obvious choice for a witty remark.

But as the rhythms of closing out a year played on around me, I felt the Lord tell me that I really do need to do some “telling”.

“I will recount the steadfast love of the Lord, the praises of the Lord, according to all that the Lord has granted us, and the great goodness to the house of Israel that he has granted them according to his compassion, according to the abundance of his steadfast love.” (Isaiah 63:7)

And so I want to proclaim some of what the Lord has done this year.  Some of what He has taught me.  Some of the places He has taken me.  Some of the blessings He has given me.

Granted, each of the 365 days of this year was a gift, so this list is not nearly comprehensive.  But let us give Him praise! 

In 2012, the Lord…

Strengthened my relationships with Thomas, MK, and Pete despite the four of us being the furthest we’ve ever been from each other (physically).  He allowed us to text, ask advice, laugh, fight, and be an encouragement to one another.

Gave me wonderfully valuable time with the “Oxygenites”—my first and enduring community of brothers and sisters in Christ.

Taught me, through experience, more than I ever knew about spiritual warfare.  He helped me learn how to equip myself with the armor of God.  I learned how to truly FIGHT through my emotions and circumstances and stand on the truth of God’s word.

Led me through a difficult season of anxiety, depression, and a general feeling that I had lost myself and had no control over my emotions and reactions.  He brought me wise counsel, gracious friends and family, and freed me to accept God’s sovereign control over my life.  (I am still learning how to give Him that control each day.)

Cultivated in me a deep love for Scripture.  Most days now I long to read His Word!

Provided me with my first full-time, big-girl job with a salary.

Through a string of summer weddings and God’s grace, allowed me to see my family a lot.  Gave me new appreciation for the relationships that will always be there, and taught me about treasuring the short times I get with them.

Let me move back to the city (complete with a Pittsburgh mailing address) after a nine-month stint in Sewickley.  I fell in love all over again with the skyline, narrow streets with lots of people, and 376 East and West.

Gave me precious time with both sets of my grandparents.  Helped me realize how incredibly blessed I am to have generations of family members who value teaching their kids how to serve the Lord.

Gave me the opportunity to be a bridesmaid two times over!  Blessed me with rich, long-lasting friendships and so many earthly symbols of His commitment to us.

Opened my eyes to more of the spiritual realities around me, largely in part from writing in my new blog.

Brought me new and unexpected friendships with people of different ages, backgrounds, and life stages and encouraged my soul through each one of them.

Let me go on some dates; taught me new things about myself and how to like myself more.  Gave me the privilege of being served.

Provided me humbling opportunities to lead others in worship—puhhhhrayyyyze HIM!

Gave me new appreciation for His creation and sunlight by allowing me to fall in like with running (wouldn’t quite call it “falling in love”). 

All glory and honor to Him in 2012, 2013, and forever!  I am so thankful :)

A (Post) Christmas Carol

Is it too late for another Christmas post?  KLove is still playing the Christmas tunes and New Years is kind of like a fake holiday, so I think I’m okay.

This Christmas I had two different encounters with A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens.  The story is one that I always assumed I knew because it’s such a classic, but I realized this year that all I really knew about the story is that there’s a guy named Scrooge who says “bah humbug”, and I watched Melissa Zimmerman (when she was a Walters) in a theater production of the story when we were in about ninth grade.

Also, when it comes to fictional characters who hate Christmas, everything starts to blur together with The Grinch.

Needless to say, I really had no idea what A Christmas Carol is about.  This year, I got educated after our family went through a walking tour of A Christmas Carol exhibit in Philadelphia and later when we gathered around on Christmas Eve to watch the made-for-TV movie recreation of the story.  Despite the fact that we waited over an hour in line to see the exhibit, and the movie took some frightening liberties in depicting certain characters:

…becoming acquainted with the story opened my eyes to a number of Spiritual realities.

For those (like me) who don’t really know the story, here are the highlights (spoiler alert...but seriously, the book was written in 1843, so if no one has spoiled it for you by know, they need to):

A man named Ebenezer Scrooge hates Christmas.  He says “bah humbug” a lot (which I can only assume is the 1843 translation of “Ughhhhh >:-/”).  He lives only for his business and making money.  One night before Christmas, a ghost of Scrooge’s old business partner, Jacob Marley (who died seven years prior), visits Scrooge and warns him to change his selfish and greedy ways.  When he lived, Marley had the same negative attitude as Scrooge, and he warns Ebenezer that it has haunted him after death.  Scrooge is then visited by three spirits—the Ghost of Christmas Past who takes him back to his childhood, the Ghost of Christmas Present who shows him various people in his town who live humbly but have great joy, and the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come who shows him what the world will be like if Scrooge doesn’t change.  The visits with the ghosts are enough to convince Scrooge that there is more to life than his business, and in turn, he renews his attitude to be generous and enthusiastic about life.

Allusions to Scripture are all throughout the story:

“Darkness is cheap, and Scrooge liked it.” –A Christmas Carol

“But if anyone walks in the night, he stumbles, because the light is not in him.” (John 11:10)

.....

“There are some upon this earth of yours,' returned the Spirit, 'who lay claim to know us, and who do their deeds of passion, pride, ill-will, hatred, envy, bigotry, and selfishness in our name; who are as strange to us and all our kith and kin, as if they had never lived. Remember that, and charge their doings on themselves, not us.” –ACC

“Many will say to me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name and in your name drive out demons and in your name perform many miracles?’ Then I will tell them plainly, ‘I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!’” (Matthew 7:22)

.....

“‘You fear the world too much,' she answered gently. 'All your other hopes have merged into the hope of being beyond the chance of its sordid reproach. I have seen your nobler aspirations fall off, one by one, until the master passion, Gain, engrosses you.’” –ACC

"No one can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth." (Matthew 6:24)

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“‘Come in!’ exclaimed the Ghost. ‘Come in! and know me better, man!”… ‘I am the Ghost of Christmas Present,’ said the Spirit. ‘Look upon me!’…‘Touch my robe!’” –ACC

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28)

“When she heard about Jesus, she came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, because she thought, ‘If I just touch his clothes, I will be healed.’” (Mark 5:27-28)

.....

This year, Christmas has come and gone.  But the call to “come and know” Jesus is a daily one.  Each day I should try to know Him better than yesterday.  I should, by His grace, be more righteous than the day before.  There is hope in Christ to be the person I was made to be.

Scrooge had the life-altering chance to see what his life would be like if he continued in darkness; Jesus came so that we would not even have to dream of darkness.  Let us continue, each day, in the light as He is in the light.

“God bless us, every one!” –Ebenezer Scrooge

A Christmas Experience

Well…it’s been awhile!  I have, ashamedly, been off my blogging grind.  I wish I could say I have been taking this time to “lean in” to personal revelation and privately “unpack” some of the deep longings of my heart.

Truthfully…I’ve just been working.  A lot.  And here I am, in my cubicle, with a virtual and literal inbox (yes, people still have those) that can just never seem to stay empty.  But it’s 4:01pm the Friday before Christmas, the first snow of the season is falling outside, and my Spirit is telling me it’s time to step back.  (Honestly, I’ve been ignoring those words from the Spirit lately.)

Last night my best friends (@mkzekert, @tomlebo, @petehutchison) drove across the state to spend a few days with me in Pittsburgh and bring me back home for the long holiday weekend.  Simply being together is always enough to put our souls in peaceful places, but this weekend we are especially looking forward to:

A PITTSBURGH CHRISTMAS EXPERIENCE.

We have been referring to ourselves as “elves” ever since this trip was planned.  We packed silly Christmas sweaters.  Tonight we’ll go ice skating and tour the International Santa exhibit before walking around downtown to see the lights and the life-size nativity scene—in the snow.  Last night we stood at the top of Mount Washington and counted how many Christmas trees we could see in the city.  We took pictures with the (creepy) life-size Santa and Mrs. Claus in the grocery store.  I even got eggnog and peppermint stick frozen yogurt just because it seemed like…the Christmas experience.

I love these things.  I love friends who do them with me.  I think gradually over the last two years since graduating college, I’ve let my life become less fun—I need Christmas experiences to reclaim that fun.

But as trite as it is, at now 4:14pm on the Friday before Christmas, I am reminded that none of these things are the true Christmas experience.  I think we all know that Christmas isn’t about gifts or holiday parties or cookie trays (except when you work in the food distribution industry).  But we do let ourselves believe that it’s about family, that feeling you get when sitting next to a warm fire with snow falling outside, and being together with the people you love.

Really, it’s about none of those things either.

The Christmas experience is humility: Sovereign God coming to us—the people who rejected Him.  And our choice to lay everything at His feet, admitting that we need Him.

Last week as I was walking by the ice skating rink downtown, I heard the song “O Come All Ye Faithful” playing.  I stopped for a second to listen to the lyrics:

O come let us adore Him, Christ the Lord!

Couples and families glided around the large Christmas tree, seemingly unaware of the most beautiful and powerful invitation that has ever been given—the invitation to adore the humble King who saved us.  The scene was so ironic…kind of like our Lord being born in a manger.

Thank you, God, for letting me know your Son, and may my inbox and Starbucks red Christmas cups never keep me from that experience.

Merry Christmas!

Romans 12

{In view} of God’s mercy…

Do not conform to the pattern of this world…

Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought

think of yourself with sober judgment…

Each member belongs to all the others…

If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy

if it is serving, then serve;

if it is teaching, then teach;

if it is to encourage, then give encouragement;

if it is giving, then give generously;

if it is to lead, do it diligently;

if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully.

LOVE must be SINCERE.

Hate what is evil; #cling to what is good.

Be devoted to one another

in love.

Honor one another                  above yourselves.

__Be joyful in hope__

____patient in affliction­­____

______faithful in prayer______

SHARE with the Lord’s people who are in need.

Practice hospitality…

bless and do not curse.

Rejoice with those who rejoice;

mourn with those who mourn.

LIVE in HARMONY with one another.

Do not be proud…

Do not be conceited.

Do not repay anyone evil for evil…

If it is possible, AS FAR AS IT DEPENDS ON YOU,

live

at peace

with everyone…

Do not be overcome by evil,

but overcome evil with good.

Flight

About a week ago my dad sent me this email.  I have never known my dad to be a writer--before now.  I am blessed that I continue learning from my dad, and I'm beyond honored to post his thoughts below:

Allison,

I am not nearly the blogger that you are nor can I articulate life experiences in to creative prose like you do regularly, but I had a very unique experience on my flight to San Diego last night that made me think of you and how you relate life experiences to what God is trying to tell you.

I had a 5:55pm flight to San Diego from Philadelphia for a “business trip” to visit our office, attend an industry meeting, and play a round of golf at the very prestigious Torre Pines golf club.  I was just slightly disappointed to find out that I was not upgraded to first class as I sometimes am, however, I was #2 on the standby-for-upgrade list should someone cancel.  That put me in a preferred seat/row of 5C.  As the plane was boarding I would study each arriving passenger to determine if they would be taking the center seat next to me.  Both the center and window seat remained unoccupied for an unusually long time.  As the departure time grew near, my thoughts shifted to “good – the middle seat will be open for this long trip making it much more comfortable”.  Just prior to closing the door of the plane, the gate agent accompanied a woman who looked to be perhaps in her 70’s on to the plane.  From first glance I would venture to guess that most people, including myself, pegged her as being homeless by the way she was dressed.  She was African American, very short with 2 wool ski caps on her head.  She wore a down parka, long embroidery type dress/skirts, white sox which were half way up the calf, printed sneakers, and she walked with a stick. Literally an old broom handle type stick.  What struck me about her, however, was that she was very clean and did not smell like a homeless person.  As the gate agent approached, he motioned to me that her seat was the window seat in my row.   He motioned to her to take her seat and said to me, “She does not speak any English”.  As I looked into her face I saw with more detail a woman who appeared to be in the category of a “mountain person”.  I recall from the trip Mom and I took to Morocco that there are people who live isolated in the mountains.  This is what I would have pictured.  The woman could have been on the cover of National Geographic or pictured in a world cultures book.  Her skin was leathery.  She only had a blank stare as if she could not even understand basic hand gestures or non-verbal communication.  What a contrast in worlds which came together on the same row of a plane.  Here I am, pecking away on my handheld electronic device that has me theoretically connected to the world and yet the person right next to me lives in the same world that I cannot connect to.  I cannot even begin to imagine the world that God created for her in comparison the world he created for me.  She was now placed into “my world” by traveling on this plane.   It made me also realize how scary a position this must be for her by not speaking the language – but even beyond that, the fact that she seemingly cannot even gesture to communicate.  With all of the regulations for flying, how is she going to possibly make this trip not knowing about seatbelts or turbulence or complementary beverages or USAIRWAYS Master Cards?……..Then there was a shift in this thinking as she reached over and took me by the hand.  She looked into my eyes.  There was a pause of maybe 4-5 seconds during which time we were both probably wondering in our own unspoken languages, “What is happening?”.  Then she uttered the most universal words known to mankind.  In a very low and very soft voice, while staring right at me with eyes that were from such a far away place….she said, “Pee pee”.  Well, there was no denying her predicament.  The problem was that, in my world, the captain had already ordered the door of the aircraft to be closed, which meant there was no movement allowed in the aircraft until we reached cruising altitude.  We were about to be on an active taxiway and the FAA has very strict rules about cabin movement in this mode of the flight.  How could I communicate this?  Knowing personally that flying with a full bladder is not pleasant, I motioned to the flight attendant that I needed some assistance.  I told her that the woman spoke no English but that it seemed clear to me that she needed to use the restroom.  The flight attendant was very understanding and agreed that the only humane thing to do was to break the rules of the FAA and allow her to proceed to the bathroom while we were on an active taxi-way.  Not only that – she agreed to let her through barrier that separates the first class from the rest of the world (not sure why they really need to do that since you can see right through the curtain).  However, the flight attendant allowed the woman to use the first class lavatory.  Well…what a further contrast in worlds colliding.  Just minutes before the door of the aircraft was closed, a very “normal” looking English speaking traveler was denied access to the first class lavatory and told to go to the rear of the aircraft to use the restroom. 

The flight attendant accompanied the woman to the lavatory and then returned her to her seat.  The attendant  put the seatbelt on for the woman and motioned that she needed to remain seated.  Again, I was wondering if the woman really understood. 

The flight was smooth in the beginning but encountered turbulence about one hour in to the flight.  We were both dozing in and out of sleep and the woman appeared to not be concerned, even though the pilot had to make several announcements about the “rough air” we were experiencing. 

As we made preparations for landing, the plane began to do the “normal” things a plane does when landing.  Noises were different, pitches and rolls were different, and pressure on your ears was different.  Again with no way to reassure or communicate, I had to rely on hand gestures to try and convey that everything is okay.  Just receiving a blank stare from these gestures again made me realize that the worlds we are from are so far apart, yet here we are, in the same place, at the same time.  When the wheels touched down there was once again an opportunity for a communication connection.  Although I have no proof of this statement, it seems that when someone is scared they usually have a similar response.  As the wheels hit the ground, the woman immediately took my arm in hers and grabbed to hold my hand.  I squeezed, as did she, and I clutched our hands with my other hand to hopefully communicate that everything would be okay.  I continued to hold her hand, rough and leathery yet firm, through the entire taxi process.  She did not let go.  Then, as the plane was entering its final turn to match up with the jetway, I motioned to her to open the window shade which had been closed the entire flight.  As she gazed out at the lights and technology she seemed relieved that we have made it.  She gradually released my hand, and we shared another stare. 

The passengers were deplaning, and she seemed content to remain in her seat. I waved goodbye knowing that this chance meeting of our lives would never happen again, but it was at that moment that I was again struck by God’s prompting for a learning moment.  The woman did not return my wave.  That gesture was not familiar to her, and she had no reaction but to stare.   I was about to continue on this journey I began which was now going to take me to high rise hotels, fancy restaurants, posh golf courses and people who knew my language.  Where would she go?  Who would she communicate with?  In what world did she live?  So much to ponder.

The flight attendant assured me that they were watching over her and would accompany her to continue her journey. 

This was a life changing impression for me.  More introspection required.

New

This morning I took a new route to work.  It was so life-giving! (on a Monday morning, sometimes it’s the little things…)

With each passing traffic light, I tried to decide why it felt so good to drive by new trees, new streets, and new Eat ‘N Parks.  The way I drove to work this morning is much more residential than what I typically drive, so I passed by a number of kids on their way to the bus stop or school.  No doubt, this was part of why I loved it—watching kids in their Hollister t-shirts lug their saxophones across the sidewalk (I couldn’t decide if I miss those days or not).

But, I remembered—this is why I really loved the new drive:

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” (2 Corinthians 5:17)

Newness is from Christ!  All joy that I experience in new things flows from that truth.  I am new.  Now.

Eat a new cereal today.  Try a new hairstyle.  Talk to a new colleague.  And “behold, He is making all things new” (Revelation 21:5).

Posers, Not Politics

I remember in elementary school one of the biggest insults you could give was to call someone a “poser”.

E.g. “William copied the teacher’s example from class…what a POSER!”

E.g. “I accidentally got the same shoes as Felicity…I feel like such a poser!”

We were soooo young.

The insult gets at an American principal—one that even elementary kids can articulate, apparently—no one wants to be seen as a copy-cat, a people-pleaser.  The goal is to be yourself, unique, original.

The Bible talks about avoiding people-pleasing, too, but not in the interest of not being called a “poser”—in the interest of pleasing God:

“Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ.” (Galatians 1:10)

This is a capstone Sunday School memory verse.  Don’t worry about what people think.  Aim to please God.  Close in prayer.  Let’s go play on the playground.

So I was kind of startled last night when I read these words from Paul (the same guy who said the words above):

“Do not cause anyone to stumble, whether Jews, Greeks or the church of God—even as I try to please everyone in every way.  For I am not seeking my own good but the good of many, so that they may be saved.” (1 Corinthians 10:32-33)

Uh.  Is Paul flip-flopping (is that a political joke? (Is it from 2004?) (I know nothing about politics))?

Honestly, not sure (and still know nothing about politics).  But the verses in 1 Corinthians draw out a wonderful, counter-cultural point for me:

To the extent that we are not engaging in sin or disobedience to God, we should do whatever it takes satisfy people in the interest of them meeting Christ.  In seeking to rescue souls, we should “become all things to all people” (1 Corinthians 9:22).

Wear business suits with the people who wear business suits.  Drink wine with the people who drink wine.  Paint watercolors with the people who paint watercolors (do people still do that?).

If it allows for an opportunity to overflow the love of Jesus Christ on to someone—be a poser.  Felicity will thank you.

iFriends

I'm a bit of a second-mover on most technology. I usually wait and see the latest gadget my brother has, hold out about 6-12 months before getting it myself, and then rely completely on him to teach me how to use it. Also my grandparents usually have the newest technology before I do, and when we're together I ask my grandpa what cool apps he recommends.

Several months ago I finally made the plunge to smart-phone world. I remember the day that I walked out of the AT&T store with my iPhone, I was overwhelmed with thankfulness, and I asked the Lord to somehow use my iPhone for His glory. Kind of a weird thing, in hindsight, but I had such a sense in that moment that everything I have really is from Him and for Him, and I didn't want even a trendy possession of mine to be in vain.

Inevitably, I'm now one of those girls who can't go anywhere without taking a picture of what I'm doing and post it with an artsy filter to make it look 10x cooler than it actually is. But the other day I thought about that short prayer I said when walking out of the AT&T store, and I realized how faithful God has been in it. Among other things, the iPhone has allowed me to engage in God-glorifying, soul-strengthening, iron-sharpening community with my best friends despite the fact that each of us lives in a different state.

Thomas, Pete, MK, and I are in communication virtually (no pun intended) all day on a group text message. At any given moment my phone could look like this:

From New Jersey to Pennsylvania to Mississippi to Florida I get to engage joy and encouragement and Godly advice and love (and self-photos and clips of ourselves sleep talking (the offender will go unnamed)) with these people every day.  Last week I had to close out of our group message because I was laughing out loud so hard in the company lunch room reading the messages back and forth.

So thankful. #soproud. Long live CR South Class of 2007's "Most Inseparable Friends"

Love y'all!  (Also, I think we can all agree that we have aged like fine wine--gotten better with age.  Sorry, in advance, for what I am about to unearth below...)

"Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God." (1 John 4:7)

(P.S. This blog post brought to you by my iPhone Blogger app, naturally)