In Your Anger

"In your anger do not sin; when you are on your beds, search your heart and be silent. Selah" Psalm 4:4

It's amazing how short is my fuse when I fall out of sync with my scripture reading and prayer time, when I forget to talk to God and forget to let Him talk to me. I wake up angry, spend most of the day's energy controlling that ill-sourced frustration, and go to bed exhausted. Add three kids and a busy schedule. Mix. Not a nice picture. I've become pretty good at pushing it down for the sake of no-regret parenting (and therapy is expensive), but I feel like the angry beast is just below the surface, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

It reminds me of what God said to Cain right before he...

you know...

slaughtered his brother.

"Then the LORD said to Cain, 'Why are you angry? Why is your face downcast? If you do what is right, will you not be accepted? But if you do not do what is right, sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must master it.'" Genesis 4:6-7

It's a pretty good description of how I feel sometimes. We have this evil thing. This angry evil thing. It is waiting for the right moment when the door opens so that it can devour us. Eeek.

So we must master it.

How?

The psalm.

Search your heart and be silent.

Yes. At the end of the day, as we reflect on the day's frustrations, we should search our hearts in the silence. But really, it needs to be preemptive. It's also when we wake. The moment before throwing off the covers and smacking the alarm.

Search your heart and be silent.

I think I'll give it a go.

Behold the Lamb

Easter is crap. The word Easter is crap. Eggs and bunnies are crap. Saying that Easter is really about the resurrection and simultaneously ignoring the APPOINTED TIME OF THE LORD is the biggest load of crap. You can't really convince me otherwise. (Sorry, I always get a little cranky this time of year.) But instead of beating a dead horse, I'm just going to do a word study. Look at your watch. Give me 10 minutes.

One word.

Lamb.

1. It begins in Genesis 22. The bible's first appearance of the word 'lamb'. Abraham was told to kill his own son. "Take your son, your only son, Isaac, whom you love, and go to the region of Moriah. Sacrifice him there." And on their way up the mountain, Isaac got a little worried... "'The fire and wood are here,' Isaac said, 'but where is the lamb for the burnt offering?' Abraham answered, 'God himself will provide the lamb for the burnt offering, my son.'" and Abraham was going to slay his own son... but the LORD intervened. "I swear by myself, declares the LORD, that because you have done this and not withheld your son, your only son, I will surely bless you and make your descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky... and through your offspring all nations on earth will be blessed."

Pretty important. God will provide the lamb, and bless the nations through Abraham's seed. You with me so far?

2. Then the next major lamb issue comes in Exodus 12. The Israelites are enslaved in Egypt. God tells Moses to get the job done, get 'em outta there. But Pharoh, the Egyptian leader, isn't okay with that. So, before the tenth "request" (read: plague), God tells his people: "On the tenth day of this month each man is to take a lamb for his family, one for each household... until the fourteenth day of the month, when all the people of the community of Israel must slaughter them at twilight." The lamb must be young and without blemish or defect. They were to put the blood of the lamb on their door frames as a sign. The LORD was going to come. "I am the LORD. The blood will be a sign for you on the houses where you are; and when I see the blood, I will PASS OVER you... This is a day you are to commemorate; for the generations to come you shall celebrate it as a festival to the LORD -- a lasting ordinance." The blood of the lamb was going to save their lives from certain death. Hmmm... That reminds me of something.

Then there's A TON of lamb sacrifices for offerings in the book of Numbers. This is a different study. And one I am as-of-yet ill equipped to teach. Then a couple more Passover lamb mentions. Then this doozy in Isaiah.

3. That's right; Isaiah 53. 700 years before the birth of the Messiah. "But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed... The LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all. He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter." That pretty much seals the deal for me. Missing out on the Abraham/Isaac sacrifice and the meaning of the Passover lamb is missing the point of what Jesus did on the cross. Yeah, I mean it. Christians are missing the point of the cross. From these three scriptures, I already understand Jesus better, and we haven't even broken the zero yet. But let's add a few more AD scriptures for good measure.

4. John "the baptizer" was doing what he did best. Preparing the way for the Lord. When he sees Jesus coming in the distance, he doesn't give him a regular greeting. Here's what he says in John chapter 1: "The next day John saw Jesus coming toward him and said, 'Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!'" This is one of those bible-y (bible-ish?) things that we just get used to, and it consequently loses its bite, but think about it. Stop and think. I'm going to go ahead and say that it was a weird way to greet his cousin. Unless you understand the Abraham and Isaac story, and how God is finally providing the lamb. And how that Lamb will take away the sin of the world. (And cf Gen 22:2 with Matt 17:5. "Whom you love" / "Whom I love". Pretty intense.)

A few more quick references. Stay with me.

5. Read Luke 22. Figure it out. Jesus was crucified ON Passover. ON the night when the lamb was to be sacrificed. And it's on purpose. "I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer." Cross reference Leviticus 23 for the passover week timeline. It's real. Okay? It's real. (Remember the biblical days go evening/morning and not morning/evening.) He broke unleavened bread and poured wine with his disciples. On Passover. "Do this in remembrance of me." Do WHAT in remembrance? Passover.

6. 1 Corinthians 5:7-8 "For Messiah, our Passover lamb has been sacrificed. Therefore, let us keep the Feast." It's all there, black and white, clear as crystal.

7. 1 Peter 1:18-20 "For you know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your forefathers, but with the precious blood of Messiah, a lamb without blemish or defect. He was chosen before the creation of the world, but was revealed in these last times for your sake."

The word "lamb" is undeniably significant here. And "Passover" appears 77 times in the NIV. And "Passover lamb" appears 7 times. (Okay. Just gave myself chills. 77, 7. C'mon, Missler fans.)

(Stepping off soapbox.)

And I'm done.

(Stepping back on soapbox.)

Okay, wait. Let's be fair. "Easter?" Nope, not in the word of God. (The word "Esther" is, though. But that was just the nickname given to Hadassah, because she was beautiful and the name Esther was from a goddess of beauty and fertility. FERTILITY. And Asherah, too. Another fertility goddess. Both derivatives of Easter. ) "Easter eggs?" Swing and a miss. Not in the bible. "Bunnies?" Strike three. Come now, let us reason together. Let us be seekers of the truth.

(Stepping off soapbox.)

Until next year.

(Stepping back on soapbox.)

Except I just have to say it plainly. Stop messing with Easter. And eggs. And bunnies. Trust me on this. It's probably irritating God. We should want so desperately to please Him. And here's the thing. He tells us how. Celebrate Passover, and the Lamb that was slain for the forgiveness of sin and the conquering of death.

It's okay to do it.

It's right to.

He told us to.

It's HOW we're supposed to remember him and what he did.

Every year.

Getting the Best of Me

My family (husband, three kids) and I sat down to watch nearly ten years worth of home movies the other day. A love marathon. It began with our wedding, and then moved quickly on to the kids. They appeared magically into our lives one by one, growing bigger and changing before our eyes by the minute. It was a sweet time for us, reminiscing and laughing and waxing poetic about chubby cheeks and funny firsts. But I was also faced with an ugly reality. In many of the videos, I noticed myself giving irritated glances to the photographer (aka my husband), as if his meticulous documentation of these wonderful years were somehow putting me out. Sure, we women worry about how our hair looks, or if we need a touch up on our lipstick, or the ominous unflattering angle. But to see myself from the other side, giving quick little huffy eyes to my husband, well... yuck.

I turned to him on the couch next to me. "Am I always such a turd?"

He attempted a quick smile, "Well, yeah." Then quickly thought to ease the blow, "I mean, sometimes. But I love you."

After I smacked him a good one, I softened. "I'm so sorry."

Why do I do that? I know we all do, sometimes. We give our best away, and leave our crappy, raw selves for the people we love the most. Over the next few days, I thought about who I was at home, and what a different person I can be with my friends. I started to wish my husband could see how sweet and caring and hilarious (and humble, too) I am around others.

Isn't that idiotic? Why do we give more to those, who -- quite frankly -- mean less? Why wouldn't my husband get the smoothed over, even-tempered, lovely and charming version of me? Even if only SOMETIMES. I know we get to be 'ourselves' around our spouses. There's a beauty in that, don't get me wrong. But we need... I need... to be careful not to abuse that private privilege. Sometimes, I need to give him -- and my kids too -- the 'me' that I use to charm my coworkers, acquaintances, and even strangers. Imagine that.

Think about it. I am willing to spend the extra fifteen minutes getting ready for a lunch date with a girl friend, and even after the most horrific morning with the kids (c'mon, it happens), I can somehow manage a winning smile and a funny story. So how hard is it, then, before my husband walks in the door after a long day, to at least do a quick fix-up in the mirror and put my attitude in check? It just might remind him that I'm a person who puts out a little extra effort for the ones I love. I do love him so dearly, after all.

And I'm sure going to remember it the next time it's recorded for posterity!

Service Contract

Let me start by saying, please disagree with anything I'm about to say, or tell me if you have some new insight. I'm begging to be wrong.

I attend a missional church, a group of Jesus-lovers who want to make an impact on their immediate community by acts of love and service. It is a right and honorable thing, and is rooted deeply in scripture.

Our church leaders were wrought with real conviction to start this church, and their heart is for the poor, the downcast, the neglected, the widow, the orphan, the 'least of these'. And I am in total agreement. Yes, yes, yes.

Everyone in my small group (a subset of our church) , then, has decided to volunteer for an organization that meets the needs of individuals and families who are struggling with terminal cancer or AIDS, and who don't have a support community in place already. My husband and I went through a weekend training, with videos that showed real people giving testimony to the vital help and friendship their caring volunteer partner provided when they had no one else to turn to. Examples of help included taking the person to and from doctor appointments, providing home cooked meals, and occasionally, some light housework. The general goal is to lighten the burden of someone in desperate need.

Why, then, has my old crappy minivan been sputtering to a halt between sculpted lion heads to a nearly-million dollar property to go clean someone's bathrooms and dust their wine glasses? How did helping those in need turn into being 'the help'? I don't know how I got here, dusting chandeliers and praying to God I won't break something that I'll have to mortgage my house to replace. And the terminally ill patient and family? Nowhere to be found. No real connection* has been made in nearly four months. Even if what I was doing felt meaningless in the face of what the family was struggling through, I felt I needed to at least get a "thank you" every now and then to know that it mattered to them, that it was helping in some way.

So, I went through all the thoughts I could think: I know that this family had to go through the same approval process as everyone else, and they were in fact approved by the organization. I know that it is probably easing their minds to have a clean house. I mulled over 1 Peter 4:9, "Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling." And Philippians 2:14, "Do everything without complaining or arguing." So I pressed on, but inside I continued to grumble in my spirit. I got angry, frustrated, and even a little indignant.

So I went to the scriptures to justify my irritation, give validity to my cause, like an idiot.

I read in Luke 17, about when Jesus healed the ten lepers. Only one came back to thank him, and Jesus says, "Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?" I identified myself with Jesus, performing great acts for thankless return. But then I got puffed up. Awesome, what else you got, God? And I started to read the rest of the chapter. Well, right before the ten lepers, Jesus just finished telling a quick story about servitude. Wah, wah. My bubble deflated. "So you also," Jesus says in v10, "When you have done everything you were told to do, should say, 'We are unworthy servants; we have only done our duty.'" Oh, right. Yeah. I'm NOT Jesus healing lepers, here. I am... the servant, doing what Jesus asked me to do. Serve.

So, while I may have opened a can of worms last night in my small group by exposing my true feelings on the matter (and finding that many felt the same), I continue to seek a servant's heart. I know that service isn't about me and my fulfillment. But I also don't want to do trivial pseudo-service so I can 'check the box' in my spiritual walk. And I definitely don't want to do something that I'm not passionate about. It just doesn't make sense to.

I'm seeking the Lord. Praying for guidance. I want to do what He wants me to do. Something I can commit to in my heart. Something more than, as George Patterson put it recently, "trying to shove the camel through the eye of the needle."

In the meantime I'll wear my rubber cleaning gloves and press on. (I've committed to serve in this organization for one year.) And I'll pray. A lot.

*Afterthought: I've had many people start to question the organization, thinking I had never met the client. I guess I should clarify 'no real connection'. I have met and spoken with both the client and spouse. They're legit. It just isn't the mutually enriching relationship that the training videos exemplified. Please look for my comments below for more info.

Brick

It's really tough when someone you know gets struck by tragedy.

But then life goes on. We get distracted. When you have hundreds of thousands of media stimuli daily and life happens, it's easy to let things get pushed down on the list. Like an email inbox loaded with spam -- we tend to forget the important message that has scrolled off the page.

My friend Jim is dying.

He has an aggressive, malignant, inoperable brain tumor. Stage IV Glioblastoma Multiforme. But more importantly, Jim has a wife and three children (2, 4, and 7). He was diagnosed in November, when he felt general fatigue and dizziness. Without treatment, Jim would have been dead by now. But they are fighting every day with anything that's left to do.

I had let Jim slip from my prayers.

why...

how...

Life. Numbness. Distraction.

Then I saw him on Sunday at a Superbowl party. And I apologized to him profusely (instead of lying and telling him that I had been praying) and told him I would take up his burden in prayer. Every day.

If we stand close enough to someone when they get hit by a ton of bricks, we can take some of the hit. Jim may literally feel like he's been hit by bricks, and his family is dealing with this on a minute by minute scale. I just happened to catch one of the bricks by proximity on Sunday, and I'm walking around with the bruise. Even in these last two days of prayer for him, I feel wasted, worn out, sad, physically ill, angry, hopeful, depressed.

I'm wrestling with the idea that our God is the SAME GOD who delivered the Israelites out of Egypt, who sent his son to live out our death for our sins, and raised him to life. The same God who protects, heals, transforms. He created the universe and everything in it. He could heal Jim. But he also takes away. Sometimes, he chooses not to heal. And His name should still be praised. There's the struggle.

I can't imagine three months of this, and trying to deal with the potential loss, and explaining it to the children who are too young to understand, and the one that isn't too young. I can't imagine what his wife, also my friend, must be going through and what her daily life must be like right now.

I'm just so sad for them. I'm trying to be hopeful. But mostly I'm just sad.

I've taped his name to a prominent place in my house so I'll be reminded to pray. I'm going to move it around, so I don't get used to it in one place. I feel like I should do this for so many things: Haiti, poverty, my uncle's dad, my friend's grandmother, slave trafficking, my friend's mother-in-law, the peace of Jerusalem, my husband's brothers, orphans, my children, their teachers, etc etc, and the list is too too too long.

I can't tape up everyone's name -- It'd start to look a little bizarre to the outside world. "The Crazy Post-It Lady." That's what they'd call me. But when I start to push away the distractions in the controlled space of my home, the few things I allow to stay in my inbox will mean more, command more attention, and will move me repeatedly -- to prayer, to work, to action.

I praise God that I have never been struck with tragedy. My burdens are light. But that's why I can help carry someone else's. I have the arm room. I need to try not to fill it with stupid things. I'll be able to carry more. Praise His Name.

"Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked I will depart. The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away; may the name of the LORD be praised." Job 1:21

I'm an Alien

Okay, so I'm beginning to think that this sobriety-from-the-distractions-of-the-world thing stinks. I'm not entirely there, mind you. It's near impossible to eliminate everything. But in being obedient to the Lord's calling in this, I'm really tearing away at myself. It's totally against the everything my head wants to do.

Not to mention people think I'm a freak.

(Which, I admit, is both fun and unsettling.)

It's weird how people react -- mostly my Christian friends -- when I tell them I'm not following American Idol this year. (I've never missed an episode before.) It's not like it's a bad show. Most people watch it with their kids, even. But it's the total dedication two hours a week for over four months. It's the setting aside of whatever else needs my attention, laundry housecleaning kids husband God, for this show that is about creating an Idol for America to worship. ... and now you hate me. But it's true. I, too, deceived myself into thinking it was about hearing beautiful singing. Sorry. It isn't. (Watch Celtic Women or listen to Carmina Burana instead.)

Or JJ Abram's "Lost". Oh, Lost. My abusive boyfriend. How you have toyed with me for five years. You have abused my patience, you have taken advantage of my intelligence, and you have drawn me back with lulling sweet promises year after year. And now you want me back for one more fling. You have promised me all the answers. You have given your word that this is the last time. But alas, my heart cannot take one more abusing. My nostrils refuse to inhale your intoxicating lure. I will not come back to you. My decision is firm. In fact, I should have left you long ago.

Okay, this is helping.

And those are the shows that I watch. Except for the righteously violent, heart-rate stomping, teeth gritting, adrenaline-packed "24". And the jury's still out on "24". I'm asking God to take away the desire. It's pretty deep, and He's working overtime.

And "Glee". But this one is packed with ridiculosity and inappropriate content. And it's wonderful. And I want Jane Lynch to be in my posse. I'm praying about this one, too.

Oh, and "House". But only because I have a major actor-crush on Hugh Laurie. He's a brilliant actor. Genius, even.

(Okay, so I'm only divulging a fraction here of what I actually end up watching.)

See, the more I dig, the more I realize how much time I have dedicated to this magic glowing box.

"'Meaningless! Meaningless!' says the Teacher. 'Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless'... All things are wearisome, more than one can say. The eye never has enough of seeing, nor the ear its fill of hearing. What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun." Ecclesiastes 1:2, 8-9

But now I'm an alien. Now I induce the blank stare. Now I'm the conversation killer. Now I am the party pooper, fer real y'all.

You: "Hey, did you see that..."
Me: "No. Sorry."
You: "Oh."
(crickets.)

You: "Wasn't that hilarious when..."
Me: "Oh, I didn't see it."
You: "Oh."
(chirp chirp.)

Me: "But I was reading in Jeremiah and it's so cool, did you know..."
You: "Oh... Cool."
(eyes shifting, looking for the nearest exit.)

But whatever. It's cool. Because you know what? I'm praying for you, too. Because this is a good place to be. There's no flashing lights or enticing previews. But the rewards of this obedience are already starting to whisper into my ears.

The obedience has brought me to my knees in repentance over the slightest hint of anger, jealousy, selfishness, or laziness.

The obedience is changing the way I perceive holiness, purity, love.

The rewards have come in the form of crying, heartbroken for other people's pain and loss, instead of a forced sympathy.

Doesn't that sound fun?

Okay. I know. My face is green. It's a side-effect, too.

I'll retreat back to my home planet now.

Devastating

What a day, yesterday. I had three major cries.

One was for a joyous and emotional occasion.

One was for love and friendship even through difficult times.

And one was for the death of tens of thousands of Haitians and the confusion and chaos that remains.

I don't know what to say.

It's just... too much...

with Haiti...

They need help. And they need comfort. And I can't imagine the frustration and sadness and brokenness. And the loss.

Oh, Haiti. I am so so sorry.

"'Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the LORD, for the LORD is about to pass by.' Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper." 1 Kings 19:11-12

Lord, now is your time. Send your breath of holiness to bring peace amidst the chaos. Send your spirit to comfort the loss. And send your servants to repair the broken. You are good and faithful.

Some links to take action: Heartline Haiti Orphanage, Haiti Disaster Relief, Haiti Relief Donation by Cell Phone Charge