believers are like Ninjas

My brother in law brought me this Ninja thing a few months ago. Beth, you’ve got to try this, it’ll change your life, he said. And like everything new that enters my life, I put it in its proper place and eyed it suspiciously for many days. In fact, I used it for the first time just last week. 

And you guys. You have no idea.

Most mornings now find me scouring my cupboards and fridge for anything, a-ny-thing, that could provide nutritional value if  crammed inside the blender cup. It’s like a carnival of creative bliss. And when you’re finished you get to eat it. My heart’s pounding even as I’m writing this.

And since the Ninja has consumed more waking thoughts than I care to admit recently, it’s started to remind me of something else in my life. Don’t knock this analogy until you’ve read it, k?

Believers are actually like Ninjas because…

The visible product will not look like the ingredients inside.

I have yet to make a smoothie in my Ninja that does not look like poop or puke. Seriously. Once blended, my smoothies appear nasty, intimidating, and unlovely. This is sensational to me, because I know what went inside them. Fresh kale, Greek yogurt, chia seeds, blueberries, mango juice, a banana for cryin’ out loud. Vibrant ingredients. Healthy. Delicious…but the product leaves something to be desired aesthetically. If I didn’t know the contents, I would probably scream and hurl it out my kitchen window.

Believers are like that. (not the throwing out the window thing, k?) Each one has beautiful ingredients. A thrilling story of personal salvation unique to them. Accounts of God’s grace, mercy, goodness, provision, and sovereign care. And every believer’s personality has elements, or some likeness, of God’s personality. He made us like that. BUT often what we see on the outside is not so beautiful as those ingredients. We may see the glaring idiosyncracies. The worn look of a long spiritual battle. The result of a sleepless night or secret physical condition or ongoing trial.  Or (shocker) a believer that is drastically different than ourselves. All these and more can make for intimidating, overwhelming, or unlovely believers on face value.

So get close enough to discern the ingredients. Get skilled at asking questions that will draw out the beauty in each believer. Take time to discern the lovely inside them. It’s there. Because Christ is at work there and lives there.

If you take in the contents, you will be nourished.

So this smoothie-in-the-morning thing is new to me and my stomach. I’m not quite sure if I feel like the Hulk or like I’ve been punched by the Hulk after drinking one of them.  But it’s gotta be doing me good, because I’m happy, satisfied, and nourished every time I drink in those amazing flavors and nutrients.

Believers are like that. Just this week a friend from church reached out to me through social media, one of them through prayer meeting, one of them through a coffee house chat…and I could go on. I needed what they had to offer. It’s been a rough week, folks. And they lifted up my hands. They spoke of God’s grace. Of His sovereign loving kindness, of His guidance…and as I ‘took them in,’ I was nourished.

So take time to take in the believers God’s has placed in front of you. Get up close and look into their faces and listen to their words and learn from them. You will be nourished. It’s God’s plan.

A ninja ‘out of sight’ will be a ninja ‘out of mind.’

Sooo maybe one of the reasons I didn’t use my Ninja right away was that I put it up on a high shelf in my cupboard, and high is not exactly eye level for Beth. But I had no idea what I was missing!!!!!!!!!! *facepalm* (that’s me channeling my bro-in-law) I forgot about it because I wasn’t near it. It wasn’t in a place that I saw very often. It wasn’t visible.

Believers are like that. If I’m not around them, I miss their benefits. I miss the beauty and nourishment they contain. I lack. So get creative in keeping your fellow believers visible this year. Invite them into your home. Invite yourself to their home. Call, text, chat, and IM them throughout the week. Stalk their facebook pages and act on what you see. Hang at your favorite places with them. Don’t miss a service at your church: they’re going to be there. Church is like open season for ninjas.

And to quote my bro-in-law: You’ve got to try this. It’ll change your life.

Beth

this will be the year that...

That I figure out why I hiccup when I eat spicy things.

That my home becomes a clearer reflection of who I am and what I love.

This’ll be the year I look up and around more than I stare straight ahead.

This will be the year I listen long and first, and share my opinion short and last. When I will see the beautiful in others and let love blanket the ugly.  That I am slow to pin wrongdoing and quick to point out what is worthy of praise.

This will be the year people quit saying, “You’re so perfect…” Because this'll be the year I let them close enough to see that’s not true. Close enough to see my weakness and faults. Near enough to see the shimmer of grace at work in every crevice of my imperfect. This will be the year I will have the confidence to be real because I will be confident in God’s transforming work in me. The confidence of mercy.

This will be the year I let myself relax into the joy and security and pleasure of being God’s child.

This will be the year that people are more important to me than time, and effort, and an ordered life.

I will learn to sing better and stronger.

I will learn to speak kinder and softer.

I will make my bed every morning.

I will make others laugh.

I will learn to hug and be hugged without cringing.

I will learn to receive from others without doubting the motive.

This will be the year that I glory in the season of life God has me in without gloating about it to the hurt of others.

This will be the year I learn to date better. Or simply date. Or simply date without wanting to punch someone in the gut.

This will be the year I invite my neighbors to sip sweet tea on my front porch at dusk. Also, I will learn how to make sweet tea.

I will have a garden.

I will be physically fit.

I will fill my home with the sound of families whenever possible.

This will be the year the Word of God dwells more richly in me. That my thoughts are more dominated by what God thinks than what Beth or others think. That the meditations of my heart and the words in my mouth are more acceptable in God’s sight.

This will be the year Beth’s blog moves to a better site. (btw we are getting close, folks!) That I will not be afraid anymore to let God wing my words where He wills. That I will be bold and run the direction He is leading me for the sake of His glory. For the sake of His people. For the sake of those who are not yet His people. This will be a year of exploits.

..................................................

And all these things this year will be possible because greater is He that is in me, than he that is in the world. Because with God all things are in the realm of possibility. Because abiding in Him will always produce extravagant fruit. Because when I ask anything in His name, He will do it. Because He will not leave me-no, not for a moment- this year. Because in Him there is all sufficiency, in all things, to do every good work.

This year will be possible, because this will be the year I believe those promises and find them to be true and effectual.

A year full-brimmed with the sweet harvest of faith.

Beth

born to reign in us

We sing about the Lord Jesus laying down His sweet head. We see it depicted so beautifully in religious art: a tiny hand, an infant’s upturned eyes, a pudgy knee escaping the swaddling…and we like to think on this. To wonder this season how our Savoir came to earth as a baby. Helpless. And soft. Someone to cuddle. We understand babies. We love them. And to think of our Christ this way fills us with adoration and amazement. He chose to come like this, and that is worthy of much thought.  

But in the wonder of the baby Jesus, we can forget He came as king. The King. The long awaited Messiah to rule and reign. Not yet a physical kingdom as His people were expecting, but to set up His rule in hearts that would believe on Him.

And we must also ponder this.

For to accept the arrival of an infant is a task full of warmth and ease, but to accept the advent of a King is not. It means putting oneself under His rule. It means submission and obedience to His words. An allegiance and devotion to His plan.

The problem is, most of us who’ve accepted His reign in our lives, see this allegiance tested on a thousand bristly platforms every day. To keep Him enthroned exhausts us and our resources. (Can’t we just think of Him as a sweet baby?) I mean, we would obey His word, but people frustrate us and do not deserve a soft answer. We would submit to His plan, but to go our own way in this moment would satisfy our lusts. We would speak a word of Gospel witness, but find our hearts distracted and cold. We cringe to find that, when pressed with the matter of allegiance, we end up pledging it to our own selves. There’s this will, you see, this desire to be subject to Him and His Word that is present with us, but how to perform that which is good? That which bows to His rule? In the thick of life we cannot find it.

The Apostle Paul writes about this in Romans 7. He’s bemoaning publically what most of us try to brush under the rug privately: We our failures as subjects. And his frustration whips him to a fevered question: Who can deliver us from this failure? Then he pens a most unexpected answer: I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord.

How can our King be the answer to our failure? How can the one demanding our allegiance make it possible? Because He is no earthly King.  For when we accept His reign, we also sign up for His victory and His grace. By His death on the cross, Christ worked something we could not:  He put to death the authority and power our sinful flesh holds over us. And because of His resurrection, we are made alive in Christ: empowered to live for Him by that same Divine power that brought His lifeless body back from the dead. That’s what Paul is saying. The very Ruler who demands our devotion, provides the means for that devotion. Strength to do every good thing. Power to bear much fruit. Enabling to resist every temptation. This is the work of our King for us. I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord.

And so we find the requirements of our newborn King this season to be wonderful and good. Not something to be strained for by countless new year resolutions. Or quietly ignored. His is a reign that we may eagerly submit to. He is a King to whom we may gladly pledge the devotion of our quiet moments and busiest days. And find both the willing and doing of His good pleasure possible as we depend on Him.

A child, and yet a King.

Hallelujah.

Beth

a matter of mittens

She felt it before she saw it, but with one quick glance she saw it too. Her fingers had gone a whitish numb again. Tis the season, she thought, and sighed as she tried to grip the steering wheel more gently. Funny how something numb can hurt so much. I hope no one shakes my hand as I walk into church…

It’s not that gloves aren’t plastered in every display window this time of year. It’s just that shopping for them takes time, and effort, and money. Three things she didn’t want to think about for the time being. Three things being loudly demanded by other parts of her life right now. Her fingers had survived before. 

They would be fine.

....................

He found them mingled with his. Just as they were the last winter his wife of so many years had worn them: tiny, soft, and thick-knit. A beautiful, glowing cream color in the dim light. Carefully, his wrinkled hands packed them in a brown paper bag to bring to church that morning. She’s so small too. I wonder if…

………………………..

She had exactly 1.5 minutes to set her things down on a sanctuary pew, fly to the ladies' restroom, extricate herself from the bustling fellowship of the ladies' restroom, check the order of service, sandwich herself amongst the altos, and enter the auditorium by way of the front row of the choir loft. 

Miracles can still happen, folks.

………………………...

He found her casting her purse and Bible on the front left sanctuary pew. Was already extending the bag toward her as she straightened up looking a bit like a horse ready to bolt from the gate. Don’t know if you’d have any use for these...a gentle smile spread slow across his face.

…………………………

They fit perfectly. Gloves NEVER fit. And the cable so thick, and the color so beautiful…she took a pair of mittens and a pair of gloves and a hat with a big tassel on top to boot. Then perhaps he startled a bit (and perhaps she did too) to find her arms thrown fast and tight about him as more than the 1.5 ticked on by. He listened contentedly as she gushed something about need, and so busy, and lost my old ones and numb and thank you.

Thank you so much…

…………………………

She will never forget it. How that one cold, rainy Sunday morning God once again took care of her when she was not wise enough to care for herself. How He tipped His hand, dropping another good gift into the hollow of her need. Nor will she forget the spirit of generosity and thoughtfulness behind the one who handed her that simple brown bag. For in that spirit, she sees a crystal clear reflection of her Heavenly Father. One who knows full well that she has need of things like mittens. One who will clothe her, as He clothes all of His creation. 

With so much beauty and grace.

(a well-mittened) Beth

at this time every year

I could feel it welling up deep inside me last week. Perhaps it began with the annual ‘turning on of the Christmas music’ a few days earlier. Or the dusting off of so many red and green seasonal accoutrements. Or remembering again how I thought for years those three kings came from Ory and Tar. (A bit more exotic than orient are, wouldn’t you say?)

In any case, it happens every year as I’m struck with the beauty of the Christmas narrative behind the festivities. Despite the majesty and theological brilliance of the old carols…despite the 30+ years of Advent sermons, lessons, and dramas that whirl in my head…

Every year I must add my own words.

Every December, it’s as if the narrative is born in me again. A new thing. A fresh life. It’s a living Word after all. And what wells up inside me, must always pour out in words. Stumbling, weak, tepid, halting, crumbling, aggravatingly mortal ones. But still, I must form them and try hard not to break them as I place them on the page. These words will form poems, essays, plays, short sentences—anything as long as they describe Christ’s birth this season. It’s already begun (case in point.)

I write because God’s gifted me a love of and longing to use words. And it’s one of the biggest acts of worship I know to do—this offering Him (again) my fresh understanding of His greatest gift, His Son, to me.

And (if you wonder what the point of all these ramblings is…) I wonder what you will offer this season, dear reader. I’m most curious to know what God has gifted you, and how you will use that to worship Him this Christmas. Will it be with written or performed music? A new sketch or sculpture? Words spoken or placed on a page? A Holy Spirit prompted act of love or generosity? A special time of quiet, long devotion before God?

……………………..

If you think about it, every major character surrounding the Christmas story responded in some definite way to Christ’s coming. The angels burst with song. Mary magnifies God. Joseph determines to do right. Herod panics (don’t do that, k?). The wise men bring gifts. The shepherds offer a bended knee and low bow…

I write feverishly.

What will you do?

Beth