Posts Tagged ‘God’s love’

It’s All For You!

dogwood treesA couple of weeks ago, I visited some young friends who are expecting their first child. They apologized for their home being in disarray and explained that they were busy getting the nursery ready for their new baby. I remember my own intensity as I prepared my first-born child’s room. I wanted everything to be perfect for this not yet born child. I fretted over paint colors and border prints. I chose blankets that would feel extra soft on his newborn skin. I selected wall art that was decorative but also designed to stimulate his developing brain. I added stuffed animals for fun, and a windup crib mobile with a carefully chosen song. When one thinks about it, it’s quite a lot of fuss for a twenty-inch creature whose main desire is to be cuddled and nursed every 3 hours!

But I wanted this room to be more than practical; I wanted it to reflect the joy and love I felt for this new life. During my last month of pregnancy on nights when sleep would elude me, I would wander into the nursery. With my hands on the bulging outline of this soon to be born child, I would whisper, “See your room? Do you like it? It’s all for you, it’s all for you!”

Last week I stepped outside early in the morning just after sunrise. I breathed in the fresh spring air, gazed up at the deep blue sky, heard the chorus of birds singing to one another, looked at the budding azaleas, dogwoods, and columbine, and I added my own words of praise to this spring anthem, a performance taking place right in front of me.

God has designed a world that doesn’t simply sustain life, but an exquisite world that reflects his perfect sense of order, design, beauty. He goes over the top with works of art we may never notice: the finely painted beetle, colorful sea creatures that live deep in the ocean, the intricate star shape hiding inside the columbine blossom — just to name a few. And I think if we take time to offer praise to his creation, we might hear him whisper to us, “Do you like it? I made it for you. It’s all for you, it’s all for you.”

As amazing as all of this is, we know life is far from perfect. Tragedies occur, people become sick, bad things happen to us and to those we love. We also mess up; even with the best of intentions we mess up our world, our relationships, including our bond with the Creator who loves us.

On Good Friday we remember a harsh image—the Incarnate God, Jesus, stretching out his arms on the hard wood of the Cross to mend the bond between God and us. He tells us, “I want you to be with me always, and I will do whatever it takes.” I really cannot comprehend that kind of love, but I am convinced that God loves us more than we can ever love Him. Our brokenness has been restored by pure undeserved grace bought at a high price, and it’s all for you, all for you.

How should we respond to such outrageous love? Certainly to love him back and to love others. But I think there is another response—and that is to hope. We can have hope because we know the end of the story. Resurrection and new life are not only for eternity but we see hints of it here and now. The One who causes the dogwoods to bloom every spring, the one who turns the brown grass to green is the same one who, in His time, can bring healing out of tragedy, transform resentment to forgiveness, and plant new seeds of joy in hearts that have been broken.

In love, He created a beautiful world for you. In love, He laid down His life for you. All for you, all for you.

Crazy Wild Love

I wrote this last May, but thought it would be appropriate during this Lenten season.

I do not like to iron. In fact, I rarely iron these days; shirts go to the cleaners, and I have become an expert at smoothiironingng out wrinkles by hanging items near a steamy shower—all to avoid ironing. I don’t like it, and I am not very good at it. But on this day in May, I stand before an ironing board with steam rising from a hot iron. Because it is the day of my first-born son’s graduation, and I am ironing his graduation gown.

The wrinkles are not yielding to the iron, so I spray with water to make them disappear. The gown is long and full, and the job is taking much longer than anticipated. As soon as I smooth out one section, I realize volumes of fabric still await my touch. I wonder if anyone will notice this gown is devoid of wrinkles when my son crosses the stage—surely not the eighteen-year-old for whom I am putting forth this effort. He would think the ironing unnecessary. Had it been up to him, he would have kept it in the box until minutes before graduation, insisting that no one would care about the creases in his gown. No, my son is not going to notice his well ironed gown or appreciate the time it has taken to make it look nice. But I care. I am his mother, and this act of ironing is only one of numerous behind-the-scenes tasks that I have done for him throughout his lifetime. You see, I fell in love with this boy before he was born, and I cannot help myself. I want him to look good when he crosses the stage on this special evening. Crazy love, wild love!

As I continue to iron, I wonder about the many behind-the-scenes gestures that our Lord does for us—kindnesses of which we may never be aware until we meet Him in eternity. Sometimes we notice—things like the colors of a sunrise or autumn leaves or perhaps insight given to us just when we need it or the comfort of a friend during a difficult time. But much of the time, I skip through life leaving many of God’s blessings unacknowledged.

I think about all Jesus has done for us—to make us acceptable before God and for eternity. We might think that we are good enough to enter God’s Kingdom—and we are—but ONLY because of Jesus’ sacrifice through His redemptive death on the cross. And having redeemed us, he doesn’t stop there; throughout our lives He continues to transform us. He smoothes out our creases and wrinkles to make us look good—to make us into the people He created us to be.

It makes you wonder why He would take the time to do these things His for children—often oblivious children who do not fully understand the sacrifice—children who take little notice of what He does for them. But, the truth is our Lord fell in love with you and me before we were born; He cannot help Himself. He wants us to look presentable when we cross over to God’s Kingdom—and He will do whatever it takes. And that’s crazy love, wild love.

Opening the Door

closeddoor2Slam!! Slamming doors—a horrible sound, especially if you are a mother and your precious child has slammed his or her bedroom door—blocking you out—in effect saying ‘I want no more of you,’ at least for the moment.

When I was pregnant with my firstborn, I remember hearing mothers talk about this door-slamming phenomenon, and I smugly thought, this will never happen to me. I will be such a good mother; my child will never want to block me out.

Fast forward about eleven years: In the middle of a discussion, my sweet son becomes red-faced, stomps up the stairs, and I hear it: slam! Twice – just to make his intentions clear. I follow him upstairs and knock on his door. “Go away! Leave me alone!” is his only response. Heartbroken, I go downstairs, wishing he could understand that I only want what is best for him. About twenty minutes later I return, and I notice his door has been cracked open – about one inch. I open it a bit more and say, “May I come in?” With his head buried in his pillow, he nods and mumbles “Okay.” We do not come to a total agreement, but forgiveness, honesty, and love permeate his room that day.

We never slam the door on God – do we? Because we are adults and a bit more controlled, perhaps we don’t slam doors, but we might just close up doors – or build barriers against God’s best for us.

During Lent, I have been making an effort to practice what Henri Nouwen refers to as making space for God. He says, “We need to open up space in our lives, so we can listen and seek the fullness of the quiet.”

So I practice sitting in the quiet each morning, contemplating God’s goodness and listening to Him. What a lovely Lenten discipline, right? But sometimes during the quiet, I don’t like what I hear and find myself wanting to close the door to further growth in Him. Maybe I don’t want to overlook an offense or give up a resentment. Do I have courage to open the door to His light of patience, humility, and reconciliation?

Maybe our Lord is calling you or me to a new place – something good – but right now we don’t want to move out of our comfort zone, so we close the door, afraid of the impending changes.

Or maybe rather than believing God loves you and is pleased with you, instead you choose to hang on to old tapes from the past—telling yourself ‘I am not good enough, I am not loveable.’

No matter how many times we close the door, Jesus stands at the door of our hearts and knocks. He loves you, even when you don’t believe him. He wants the best for you. Open the door, make space for him, and if that seems too hard, muster up the courage to crack open the door an inch or so, and trust that he will come in and help you with the rest.

Thoughts on Advent: Preparing for The Adventure

When my boys were very little I remember their watching me as I bustled around getting ready for our vacation. They were too young to remember previous vacations, so they could not quite comprehend the meaning of the word. I explained as best I could where we were going, the house in which we were staying, the wide beaches, and what we would be doing. I described it as an adventure. For several days they studied me intently as I vacuumed, cleaned out the refrigerator, and washed the dog. They grew impatient, asking, “Why are you doing all this work—can’t we start the adventure now?” “Not yet,” I replied, “there is work to do before we go.” As time drew closer, I bought some new clothes for the boys and began packing for the trip. They were excited, but one of my sons expressed concern as he watched me fold clothes into suitcases. “What if I don’t like it? Maybe I just want to stay here and sleep in my own bed and wear my old clothes and play with my own toys.” I told him, “Trust me, you will love it, and don’t worry, I will be with you.”

As I light the candles on my Advent wreath and set up more Christmas decorations, I often think back to that time— a time when my boys’ knowledge and experience were in the early stages, and they had to trust me and my description of what was to come.

Advent is a time to prepare our homes and hearts for Christmas, but I also think it is more than the four weeks leading to Christmas. We are in a lifetime season of Advent. We know our eternal salvation is sure if we have accepted the gift Christ offers to each person, but the total manifestation of our redemption awaits.

Even though our “adventure” of eternal life is secure, we are not to sit idle; there is work to be done. Right here. Right now. I have plenty to do today: people to forgive, resentments to relinquish, a prayer to offer, a tangible gift to someone through money or a service, a word of encouragement to be shared, a Bible to read, taking time to listen to God instead of the clamor of this world, believing Jesus is who He says He is, and allowing Him transform me into the person He created me to be. Whatever our talents, time, treasure, we can spread the light of Christ and grow closer to Him—right now.

Regardless of our age, each one of us is on the cusp of our eternal Adventure We know a bit about what is to come, and much of it sounds wonderful. However, most of it seems mysterious and beyond our present experience, and the mysterious can be unsettling. But, if you express your concerns to your Heavenly Father, I imagine He will tell you, “Trust me, you will love it, and don’t worry, I will be with you.”

This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent. John 6:29

He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. Micah 6:8

The Imago Dei

Advent. A time to prepare our hearts for the coming of the Holy One. But, instead of a contemplative, quiet time, I find these weeks leading up to Christmas can become a flurry of too many activities, too many parties, too much shopping, too much baking . . . simply too much – and not enough of me. I feel guilty when I don’t check things off my list, but I feel even more guilty when I’m running around like a whirlwind rather than remembering the meaning of Christmas. But this morning, I asked God to help me out of the frenzy, and He reminded of two important words. Imago Dei – which means image of God.

Each one of us is created in the Image of God. Our job is not our to-do list – our job is to remember we are made in His image – that we are His children. This truth seems unbelievable to me, but if we take his hand and walk with him, we can bring bits of Him into this day – and into every task, however small.

Imago Dei – God also has his fingerprints on everything he has created. I think part of living out our Imago Dei is having eyes to see Him everywhere. When we walk with Him, His paths may seem circuitous but that’s okay. I remember the walks I used to take with my younger son when he was a toddler. It was never a straight walk – he constantly was dashing off here or there to find a delight. The crunch of a leaf – the shape of a rock – a small critter playing hide and seek with us – or maybe a footprint in the mud. These walks would seem frustrating until I let go of my plan and entered into his delight – the delight my little boy experienced in the Imago Dei – because even though this tiny child had lived on this earth for only three years, he was quick to recognize God’s fingerprints everywhere. Imago Dei. Once I would let go, I would find great joy watching my little boy discover God’s fingerprints on his creation

Imago Dei – I think God enjoys watching our delight as we discover his finger prints on the seemingly ordinary.  It’s more difficult for adults – we have responsibilities and duty – and we are quick to trivialize our down time.

Imago Dei – it is all around us – this image of God – each one of you has been made in His image, and just by your being alive and present, you reflect His image.

This truth is unbelievable to me, but when I try to live it, I find peace – and I pray this peace for each of you during Advent and always.