relationship with God – Page 2

Poured Out Like Champagne: Joy in the Midst of Hard

There will be seasons of your life where you feel you have been firmly and irrevocably stuck in the dark, upside down, and for an indeterminate time. Yet you must remember: you are never forgotten or left alone. Each day the Master’s hand is there with you in the dark, turning you, noticing you, carefully and expertly caring for you.

My Beautiful Loves:

Do you remember how in the Old Testament, God’s law commanded that once they were in the Promised Land, the Israelites were to offer up a drink offering of wine along with the other sacrifices they gave? (Numbers 15, 28, 29, Leviticus 23) This was to mark the Sabbath of resting in peace in the land after their long time of travels and battles, and was to be a gift to God. The wine represented the joy in the sacrifice, the celebratory part of offering up the best of one’s labors. Later in the New Testament, the Apostle Paul speaks about how he is being “poured out as a drink offering” (Philippians 2:17, 2 Timothy 4:6), comparing his work to the wine offered alongside the labors of the churches, both giving joy to God and others as he poured out his efforts for the Kingdom of God.

One morning during my quiet time, I prayed that if I was being poured out as a drink offering to God, I wouldn’t be just wine, I would be champagne! Champagne is a very special, sparkling wine that can only come from a specific place in the world, the Champagne region of northern France[1]. It is traditionally used for celebrations and joyful occasions, and can be quite costly. I wanted God to find such joy in my delighted, exuberant life of vivacious service and celebration of outpouring of love to Him that it was something He would find delicious and intoxicating.

In the days following this prayer I began to research Champagne – both the region and the wine, because I realized I didn’t know very much about it. I figured if that’s what I wanted to be like, I should probably learn about it!

I discovered that the place known for the vineyards and wineries that created celebratory wines used for toasting and parties was also “one of the most blood-soaked and fought-over regions in the world, let alone Europe (Millar, 2014)“. Champagne lay in the path of a main route for any of the many armies marching through eastern France, and as such, experienced much bloodshed and battle. The birthplace of these famous wines endured many vicious wars, many of which have left scars and residual evidence on local architecture and land to this day.

It might seem intuitive that champagne, being such a bubbly, joyous wine, would come from somewhere bright and sunny with fertile soil, but instead the region of Champagne is the most northerly wine-growing region in the world, and as such, is diabolically difficult to produce high or even certain yields of grapes. It is misty, cool, often rainy, and a notoriously capriciously-weathered area. The soils there are known to be exceptionally chalky, dry, poor, and challenging to produce any high yields of crops. That is without mentioning the mildew, various diseases, and pests that also plague local vine growers.

After all these challenges to just growing a vineyard of grapes, the real difficulty begins: Actually creating the wine. The process of producing champagne is highly regulated by French governmental regulations and a bureau specifically designated for the enforcement of strict requirements on things like: when to harvest (a short window of a few weeks), how much they may harvest, the specific type of grapes allowed, how many pressings are allowed, how much juice is allowed, and many other stringent guidelines.

After the bottling is finally complete, the task is far from done: then comes the lengthy wait in the dark. It is estimated that over six hundred miles of tunnels underground were built to cellar the champagne – and it takes about a minimum of year and a half to age to maturity. It is stored in the dim coolness underground in racks, tilted upside down. Every day a vintner carefully turns the bottles by hand. Every single one. They do this so the sediment in the wine will collect in the neck of the bottle and leave the wine clear.

Then the wine is flash-frozen, the tops are popped off, the frozen chunk of ice in the neck with all the sediment is shot out, they add a dose of sugar to increase the bubbling fermentation of the yeast, and it is recorked and recapped tightly to prepare it for labeling and sale.

Then these bottles travel around the corner or around the world, where finally they are given their moment – a joyful celebration! And they are uncorked, poured out, enjoyed, and emptied.

This entire process from vine to empty glass is fascinating to me. I think we can learn a lot from champagne. Through no choice of our own, we may encounter tragic loss, suffering, and grief that leave deep wounds on our hearts and blood in the soil of our lives. Sometimes the neat rows of vines of a peaceful, happy life that we long for actually look more like miles of muddy, embattled trenches scarring the landscape of our years as we face trauma, pain, and struggle.

My children, I want you to understand: Life can be very hard in seasons. Life will bring sorrow and pain. This is not a threat – it’s a promise. “Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows,” Jesus said (John 16:33). And Paul declares: “Indeed, all who desire to live godly in Christ Jesus will suffer persecution.” (2 Timothy 3:12) We all cope with the realities of a world marred by sin and death (Romans 5:15), but we also have hope! The sentence above spoken by Jesus was not finished: “In this world you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.”

When we place our faith in our lovely and loving Master Gardener, we know that even though a current time seems dark and heavy, we know that He has endured the worst this world had to offer and has emerged victorious, leading the way for us who live keeping our eyes on Him (Hebrews 12:2-3). He was the Man of Sorrows, familiar with our grief (Isaiah 53:3), and He will give us the peace-filled hearts we need, no matter the wars raging outside (John 14:27).

While we may wish for the sunny skies and lush, fertile ground of a blissful, idyllic home environment, we might endure the cold mist of family discord, storms of disappointments or broken hopes, difficult chronic health situations or lack of financial stability. Various things might be in our lives that seem like a plot of harsh, infertile chalk to grow in or like swarms of pests that suck the lifeblood out of us and wither our best efforts. James encourages us to consider such situations as opportunities to experience God’s great joy (James 1:2). Romans encourages, “Be patient in trouble, and keep on praying” (Romans 12:12).

This is not only counter-cultural, it’s counter-natural; which is exactly the point. These situations are allowing us to grow in ways that aren’t according to our humanity but our spirituality. We are given these challenges to practice the Spirit-led joy that will set us apart and mark us as children of God, the brothers and sisters of Christ Jesus (Romans 8:29), who for the joy before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and now sits at the right hand of God the Father (Hebrews 12:2).

We all experience immovable boundaries and “regulations” which we must keep – we are all humans made of flesh: susceptible to flu viruses, heat, cold, the law of gravity, and requirements for food and sleep. Depending on where we live we are also obligated to follow certain rules: driving on a certain side of the street, stopping or going at different colored lights, or being required to undergo a certain amount of education if we expect gainful employment. (And just so I’m very clear, another restriction is that in our country the legal age to drink alcohol is 21 years old. I don’t care how amazing you think my champagne analogy is, you are absolutely not allowed to drink it before then and that’s the final word on that. Boom.)

While in general we understand that these rules are for our overall benefit, it is also not uncommon to feel that they can seem hampering or restrictive at times. God has uniquely chosen each person’s life and the restrictions for it. His loving, all-wise Father’s eyes saw each of you before you were born (Psalm 139), and He decided ahead of time exactly where He would place you in this world, the special gifts and skills you would bring, and the people you would bless (like me!).

He also chose the things that you find challenging, the areas you might need to work really hard on, and the tough situations which would bewilder you. There are no mistakes in His loving plan for you. He looks at you with deep pride and creative joy as an artisan would look at a masterpiece (Eph 2:10, NLT). So take heart, belovedests. You are in His hand, no matter what sort of rigorous matrix of restrictions you may feel hampered by. And that’s truth.

Grapevines produce best when they have been tied up on wires, pruned somewhat stringently, and have endured the heat and the cold of both sun and storms. Wine is more valuable when it is the genuine article, not tampered with varietals that are inferior or methods that rush to make a quick profit. Our Father’s tender care and great knowledge are in force with each of you – He carefully walks the rows of your life, thoughtfully deciding what and when and how would bring the best harvest for both you and Him. The wise vine is one which joyfully submits to the restrictions – from this joy comes the fruit.

Life often is tough. The stresses and challenges put pressure on us. What are we giving out when we experience the weight and the squeezes that will inevitably come? Bitter angst and complaints, stoic grunts of calloused resistance, or bursts of loving trust and hope?

In champagne making, the first press – that in which the grapes release their juice without breaking the skins – is called the cuvee blanc. It is the most delicately aromatic, the most precious, and the most difficult to preserve because of the lack of tannins (the bitter-tasting acidic chemical that delays spoilage), so it is bottled and enjoyed close to the place it was created. (There is a saying that the best wines never leave France.)

The second press breaks the skins of the grapes, releasing the acidic tannins, and this is the pressing that is used to create the majority of sparkling wine that is created for sale and shipment.

The third press is the most acidic of all, and the least flavorful, and is used largely to mix with other juices to provide the tannins they will need to make a decently-bodied wine. Anything left after this third pressing is discarded or used for composting.

Notice that the first pressing is the most precious and the most fragrant: that which the grapes give up freely, sacrificially, joyfully, is of the highest value and also without bitterness. I pray that when you face the crushing weight of life and when you feel you are in a place where you are stressed and pressured, you turn your faces up to God with hope. I pray that in loving trust of His Father’s heart for you, you freely surrender and give up your thanksgiving and worship in that moment. This is what “the sacrifice of praise” means. “Giving thanks is a sacrifice that truly honors me,” God says (Ps. 50:23, NLT).

The more we resist the challenges and the difficulties with hardened hearts, the more bitterness leaches into our lives, ultimately rendering them undrinkable and worth little to anyone. The worship from your heart given in these moments is like a choice cuvee blanc – it is fragrant, pure, and very precious to our Father.

There will be seasons of your life where you feel you have been firmly and irrevocably stuck in the dark and upside down, for an indeterminate time. Yet you must remember: you are never forgotten or left alone. Each day the Master’s hand is there with you in the dark, turning you, noticing you, and carefully and expertly caring for you.

Sometimes the sediment of our selfish hearts, sinful habits, or the clutter of our daily lives creates a murkiness that needs to be purified so that we can have what our Father longs for us to have: a clear, delightful, focused relationship with Him. This brings a fullness of joy that nothing can steal (Psalm 16:11). Sometimes this focus can only come about by a period of being upside down in the dark.

By submitting to this cleansing process and actively agreeing to surrender the “things that hinder and the sins that entangle” (Heb 12:1) we will be exceptionally joyful ourselves because we will be fulfilling what we were inherently created for – enjoying God and reflecting Him and His glory. Being joyful and patient in the dark is a way of telling God you love Him. It is declaring your trust in Him. It is proclaiming that you agree that He is faithful to complete and bring to perfection the work He began in you (Phil 1:6).

My chickadees, if you could only understand the utter beauty of a life lived in joyful loving surrender and trust to our King! It creates a thing of finest worth and clear brilliance, fully delightful and bubbling with joy. Our lives are not our own, and we are not promised tomorrow. Make the offering of your life one of such extravagant joyful faith in Him that He is utterly delighted and intoxicated by your love, proud and pleased to taste the exquisite vintage you have made with Him.

Here’s to lives of deep joy poured out for our King!

Cheers.

Mom

[1] Many other countries create sparkling wines, but the Champagne region in France has trademarked the appellation “Champagne” so that only wines from this specific region are allowed to use this name.

His Blood Be On Us – How Two Passovers Became Our Story

My Precious Picklechicks:

Once long ago, on this night, there was a large group of people who were waiting to be set free (Exodus 12:37). Their belongings were hastily packed and stacked around them. Wearing their coats and sandals, they ate their last meal in the houses of their slavery, waiting for the signal to begin their escape. You know this story, it is a story we read and speak of often. Tonight we celebrated it with a special meal and customs passed down from long ago, as well as our own special family traditions which you anticipate and enjoy so much.

Why do I make such a point to emphasize this old tale? Why do your dad and I so carefully explain the history and circumstances of a people far removed from us by place and time? Why is this old narrative something I get so passionate about? Because, my loves, I fiercely believe it is our story as well.

This people group had spent years – hundreds of years – in a country far from the one their forefathers had called home. They had forgotten, except for a few old tales, about the Eternal, Perfect, All-Powerful Spirit-Being their ancestors had known and worshipped, and had turned to the now-familiar gods of the people around them, accepting what was widely held as truth. They had come to accept as truth that they were a people enslaved, that there was no way to change their current situation. They “ate the bread of adversity and drank the water of affliction” (Isaiah 30:20) and couldn’t imagine anything different because their lives were so miserable.

Then a man had come from the desert, a shepherd who had once been a prince, with a strange yet astonishingly wonderful story about a God who knew them, heard them, and wanted them to be set free and taken back to the fertile homeland He had first promised their forefathers.

After many powerful acts showing that this God was superior and more powerful than any other deity they had ever heard about or could imagine, they and the rest of the nation were waiting, in both dread and awe, for the final demonstration of His might. They had been warned to prepare for a quick departure, and also given instructions on how to escape the devastating loss that would sweep through the land before they left: only by painting the blood of a lamb over their doorposts would the Death Angel pass over their homes.

My dearest lovebugs, always remember this: Freedom is not free. Not then, not now. Blood (a sacrificial death) was the price of their liberty. Any who chose to follow the instructions were spared, regardless of ethnic origin or class rank. All who did not received the consequence promised, and the screams of grief and mourning wails were heard in every single house of those who did not obey (Exodus 12:1-30).

As the people left, they rejoiced and celebrated. They followed a leader, a guide who had once been royalty but was now a humble shepherd. They were led by columns of fire and cloud – which led them to – and then through – a swirling sea by way of a dry path created for them till they were on the other side. They traversed a pitiless desert, dependent only on this strange God who gave them bread from the sky and water from rocks (Psalm 78:15-25). This new reality was the stuff of dreams – and yet the people who had witnessed His power and seen His provision kept rejecting the One who had saved them to seek out the things which reminded them of what they had left behind. They became known more for their complaining and grumbling than for their celebration, gratitude or obedience.

Later, they were given the gift of knowing how to rightly serve and please the incomprehensibly perfect God who had saved them by His might and power. They were entrusted with the requirements and regulations that told them how to live to be right and able to stay near to God (Exodus 20). The people once again heard how only the blood of an unblemished sacrifice could restore them to freedom – this time from the guilt of any wrongdoing. In this law there was a strict admonition: “Have nothing to do with a false charge and do not put an innocent or honest person to death, for I will not acquit the guilty” (Exodus 23:7, NIV), and this law was taught to their children and passed down through generations.

Then, long ago today, hundreds and hundreds of years later, a weary, bruised man faced an angry throng who were on the verge of rioting. As Jesus of Nazareth stood bound and silent before a raging mob, exhausted from his sleepless night of agonized prayer, disfigured and battered from the relentless interrogation and abuse from his captors (Luke 22:63-65), the region’s governor, Pilate, asked those calling for Jesus’ death to recognize his innocence (Luke 23:16-22). Pilate was baffled by the crowd’s insistence on death by crucifixion for a man who had done nothing wrong.

“His blood be on us, and on our children!” The enraged mob screamed it, almost flippantly, back at Pilate – the pagan Roman – who found himself arguing with a group of conservative religious Jewish people to persuade them to let him set an innocent Jewish rabbi free. Instead they roared back to condemn him to the most savage, brutal death sentence the Roman Empire had imagined, reserved for the worst of criminals. And they declared with hubris their willingness to accept the guilt of slaughtering the innocent – even to the point of punishing their grandchildren’s children. The scene is surreal to imagine, let alone read as truth in the Bible (Matthew 27:15-26).

Yet these are the descendants of the same people who had been freed from slavery and given a clear and clean law to follow so that they could rightly honor the holy God who had set them free. These are the same people who were about to go home to their houses to kill lambs and celebrate a festival of freedom. With their families they would recite the story of how the blood over the door exempted their forefathers from death, allowing them to walk free from the land of their brutal and oppressive taskmasters. They would relate with gusto the various ways God had punished their oppressors, and describe how they found hope and a future in a new home where they could live and thrive – the land promised by the God of their forefathers, a God of faithfulness, enduring love, and mercy.

Jesus, the perfect Lamb of God, was condemned to die by a heartless, cruel mob of people, who had no comprehension that His innocent blood was indeed meant to cover them from eternal death. They were unable to understand that His willing sacrifice was the initial step in an epic journey to freedom. They were unable to conceive a life lived surrendered to a law of love rather than a law of judgment, and thus were deafened to the truth He offered.

The people screaming for His death were as enslaved as their ancestors were, chained to a life of constant defeat under sin and the eternal condemnation it brings. They were as much slaves as the Hebrews in Egypt centuries earlier were, except worse: they deliberately renounced the One who came to free them and bring them to a place of perfect reconciliation and loving intimacy with Him. It was as if another Prince-turned-Shepherd had come to lead them to freedom toward a Promised Land of eternal life of peace and joy, but this time they unequivocally rejected and then violently murdered him.

My darlings, it may seem so easy to judge both the former slaves and also the raging mob. In our condescension we can become a little smug. What I really hope you realize is what I said before: this is our story too.

The Israelites and the multitude who came with them out of Egypt were marked by a loss of identity and uncontrolled appetites. They had forgotten who they were as a people, called and set apart to serve the One true God, and became enmeshed in the culture and unquestioning acceptance of the world around them. In their time in the desert they usually chose discontentment instead of joyful trust in the provision that their Savior chose for them, and often only focused on gratifying their fleshly desires and cravings.

We are so often like those former slaves – set free in body yet still bound in mentality. We become forgetful of who we are and Whose we are. We become easily distracted and caught up in the things and circumstances around us. We look for fulfillment and purpose in the stories the world tells us, and ignore the one Story that tells Truth. We believe ourselves entitled to instant gratification of natural or physical desires when we ought to look to our Creator for His provision and sustaining hand as we learn patience and discipline. We forget the bigger picture of a mighty Savior who has declared us to be His and then came Himself to bring us out so we may worship Him and know Him. We are called to worship, but come to complain.

Those people who were set free had sand in their shoes from the dry bottom of the Red Sea and drank water that gushed from a rock. They ate and were satisfied from flakes of bread collected from the ground. If they could so quickly doubt and complain after these experiences, we need to ask ourselves honestly and humbly if we could do better.

We too are given the opportunity to be God’s holy people, a people who follow Him and obey Him with all that we have. We too have the beautiful promise of intimacy with the loving Creator-Being who gave everything to set us free, yet how often do we cheat on Him with anything and everything else that demands our time, energy, or love? Especially when the other things seem to provide emotional satisfaction or quick comfort. We too forsake genuine truth for shallow quips, lasting joy for fleeting pleasure.

We can also be like the angry crowd. Consumed by pride and self-love, we too become defensive and angry by any exposure of our sinfulness. Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote that we never quite forgive someone who gives us a gift, because it means they have seen a lack[1]. This is offensive to our natural pride and desire to appear entirely self-sustained and adequate. In this case, we (often even secretly from ourselves) find it galling to admit our need for a Savior, and become angry at any acknowledgment of our depth of insufficiency.

We are like the crowd also in that we are frequently fearful. We fear what others think, we fear uncertainty, we fear fully trusting in a God who might behave unexpectedly and without our control or approval. We fear being isolated from other broken, fleshly people in our pursuit of a perfect, eternal God, and we fear pain. We shrink from experiencing the hurt that others’ sinful choices create for us. We recoil from having our Great Physician clean and treat our diseased hearts or set our brokenness straight because of the discomfort (and sometimes severe anguish) we may feel.

Like the crowd, we too can become flippant and cavalier about the cost our sin requires, and, hurting, angry, and fearful, believe that we understand what the actual price is and scream defiantly: “His blood be on us, and on our children!”

The guilt of His innocent death is required of us, yet in His incomprehensible love and sacrifice He cancelled the debt for that sin (and every other) by covering the cost with His life. The irony is that we need His blood on us, both as a condemnation of our guilt and as a complete pardon. We are not innocent. He is. His blood should be painted over the doorways of our lives – deliberate and obvious to us and any observer that we have chosen to accept His sacrifice on our behalf. We should be living in such a way that our lives are an open testament to our choice to follow the God who frees us. We should clearly walk the path He leads us on, deciding by our pursuit of Him to avoid the death that sin brings: the separation of relationship with the God who gave everything to be near us.

Our King became a carpenter, who later became a Shepherd of men, to at last become the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world. The veil in the temple that separated sinful man from the Unfathomably Holiest Being of all was torn on this day from the top down, right after Jesus died (Matthew 27:51, Luke 23:45). Our God, our King, our Savior became our Guide, not only through life in a broken and hurting world, but also through death.

My lovelies, we are truly free. We truly belong. We are truly invited to experience a life with the most winsome, wonderful, powerful and loving God of all eternity, for all eternity. Thanks be to God, our Savior, for His blood that was shed for you and me (1 John 1:7).

We celebrate the Passover not because it is only a tradition or just a reminder of how God set His chosen people free from Egypt, but to remember that God has set us free from sin, fear, and eternal separation from Him. Our Passover Lamb was given to us in the form of Jesus Christ, and that is cause for both solemn remembrance and great celebration. No matter what we face, no matter what seas, deserts, mountains, fortresses, battles, plagues, or hardships may come, we know that He is with us and He has gone before us. He will be our Guide – even through death (Psalm 48:14) – and we will someday reach the New Jerusalem, the true Promised Land, our eternal home (Revelation 21:2).

I can’t wait to celebrate with you there.

With all my love, Mom

[1] Emerson, Ralph Waldo. “Gifts”, in Emerson’s Essays. pg. 279. Avenel, New Jersey: Random House, 1993.

April Fool’s Day: A Love Story

My Belovedest Children:

As we moved through our adoption process of your brother when you all were younger, I began noticing a guarded, sometimes almost weary look in the faces of other adoptive parents, specifically those who had adopted children who were not infants. When I had a conversation with them, they would be genuine and warm as they encouraged me on in our adoption journey, but part of me felt as if they were also carefully trying to avoid words that might spill out that they wanted to protect me from.

I started to be afraid of this look in their eyes, of finding out what it meant, of the cost that likely came with it, and I certainly never wanted to own it or wear it. Now I believe I have probably perfected that certain facial expression, and I know of my own hesitancy that comes when I in turn, try to encourage other people on any difficult path they find themselves on.

Whatever other people have experienced to wear that face of the wary and weary, for me it has been experiencing the cost of living out unconditional love. I have learned that I must make the choice to be a fool according to the world’s standards, and daily repeat that choice. God has used our adoption story to teach me something about Himself and the way He loves.

I was the oldest in a family of twelve children, with nine adopted siblings. Some of my siblings were infants, some toddlers, and some children (the oldest was thirteen) when they joined our family. We did not experience a fairy-tale of an adoptive family. I know some of the ugly that adoptive homes can be – with hurtings from both the children and the parents.

I had siblings go to juvenile detention centers, and after they got out, they quickly got themselves in a penitentiary for other things. I have had a younger sibling die from HIV/AIDS-related illness. I have some siblings I haven’t seen or spoken to in decades. Estrangement and woundedness currently best describes my family of origin. So you would think that I would have wanted to stay away from adoption (like my biological siblings did), but I didn’t.

I had hope that since adoption was such a good thing, giving a home and a family to a child who didn’t have one, it would be fine. I thought that since my motives were right and I was doing something right, it would be a better outcome than what I had experienced in my childhood family. I was better prepared emotionally, had better training, was better supported, I thought. And you children were so wonderful and excited! Every night you would pray earnestly for your brother, even before we knew his name. Your loving acceptance was such a joy to see. I know it made God’s heart happy.

So, your dad and I tenaciously fought through mountains of paperwork, collecting every last scrap of data to be compiled in our dossier. We attended meetings, courses, classes, medical exams, fingerprinting appointments, and psychological evaluations. I had to write requests to all the governments of countries and states we had ever lived in, asking for proof that we had no criminal record. We welcomed strangers into our home to assess both it and us, trying to be transparent and open as we answered very personal questions and gave our private financial information to people we didn’t know, to try to prove we could both parent and afford another child.

Then, after finally coming home from another country with the son we had fought so long and so hard to get, I experienced a dark depression finely mixed with a raging hatred. I honestly believed at one point that I had ruined my life by pursuing adoption. I’m not proud of this.

I was baffled by the storm of emotions and depression I felt caught in, and felt lonely and isolated. I was afraid to share my struggle with others because it seemed so foolish to be struggling so greatly when adoption had been something I had longed for so deeply and fought to reach for so long. I was afraid to let people see the dark anger burning in my heart. I felt like a failure as a parent – what kind of a monster couldn’t love an orphaned child? I feared the cynical “I told you so,” from people who had experienced adoption struggles themselves. I couldn’t bear the obliteration of hope from possibly hearing that this anger and defeated discouragement was the way it would always be. But being put on the pedestal of pious goodness and crowned with a halo of selfless altruism ascribed to me from others who had never adopted felt like swallowing acid.

The cause of this bewildered, blind rage and grief?

It was me.

I had to come to the realization that my anger and pain was from the agonizingly slow death of my self-satisfaction. I had truly believed I was a loving, patient, compassionate, and kind parent. Adopting a child who was not biologically mine forced me to suddenly face my selfishness, impatience, harshness and unkindness. Suddenly I could not avoid seeing the aspects of myself that I was unaware of or used to carefully hide.

Struggling to daily love, train, and care for a toddler who did not love me or even care who I was strained my last shreds of self-satisfaction, because it revealed just how much more grace I gave to you children who behaved in ways I approved of. It showed me how conditional my kindness was, and how shallow the depths of my compassion. I had to claim as my own a child who behaved as though he didn’t care if he was or not, and had not the slightest shred of gratitude for anything I had done for him and continued to do (at least not at first). And of course I realize the irrationality of even expecting it, especially from a toddler from an orphanage in another country! (My loves, please forgive me and know how truly sorry I am for this season. In a way adoption did ruin my life – the self-satisfied and blindly proud life I had known, and now am so grateful to have lost.)

Adoption forced me to look without any rosy shades at the person I was in my own strength, and recognize that there was no way I could make myself love my son without God’s help. I hit the bottom of my capacity for love, and trapped between my raging lack and the pain of my savaged pride, I writhed in depression, shame, and anger. It’s ugly but it’s true.

Meanwhile, your brother was a tender-hearted boy who showed concern whenever he noticed anyone sad (and still does). He has always been a quick learner, and has an infectious smile and laugh. He is an endearing and loveable kid, and our family is incredibly blessed that he is with us. I cannot imagine my life without him, and will always be so privileged that he was gifted to us by God. Of course we had things to work through. (Don’t we all?) Of course there will be on-going areas to focus on, and all of us will need to extend grace to each other, but apparently mostly to your mom (who still has so much to learn).

After that April when we grew our family through adoption, I began, with wonder, to truly contemplate God’s incomprehensible love for me. He had the perfect Son, yet chose to adopt me into His family. My adoption cost was beyond price: His life-blood on a cross, preceded by beating, mockery, and unthinkably gruesome and heinous torture by flogging. And He knew that before He even began my adoption process, and still He proceeded. If He has that much love for me, for you, for all the ones He has called to be His children, how much more will He give me the love I need for others (Luke 11:13)!

I marveled at God’s recklessness in pursuing a relationship with me, given the excruciating cost and on-going struggle as I feebly work to grow in my understanding of Him as my Father and what that means. My God’s sacrifice to make me His, His patience and kindness with my shallow, selfish heart, His deep tenderness as He leads me closer to Him even when I act like I don’t care – I’m beginning to grasp what the Apostle Paul talks about in 1 Corinthians 1:18-29. God’s plan to save us through a Savior’s death on a cross seems like foolishness. Who would love that much? Who would endure that kind of suffering for the ones who would reject Him? Who gives so much to those who treat His patience and enduring kindness with such contempt and scorn? What kind of crazy love is this?

So much work, hope, pain, struggle, suffering and love given to bring a person to Himself as a son or daughter! Especially for a person who could decide to reject and discard the love offered, someone who probably will never fully grasp the sacrifice or cost paid to enact the adoption! I say this with the utmost reverence and with tears in my eyes: Our God is a Fool in His love for us, and He did the unbelievable and endured the unthinkable so that we could take our place in His home, eat the food He gives, wear the garments He provides, and have His name added to our birth certificate.

As Michael Card sings:

“We in our foolishness thought we were wise
He played the fool and He opened our eyes
We in our weakness believed we were strong
He became helpless to show we were wrong
So we follow God’s own Fool
For only the foolish can tell
Believe the unbelievable, come be a fool as well.”[1]

Anyone who pours out love without hesitation, pressing through the potential pain and suffering of rejection, misunderstanding, or tepid response, is reckoned a fool in the understanding of this world, because it makes no sense. There seems to be no visible gain or benefit to the love-giver.

This, my chickadees, is why such sacrificial love is so rare and beautiful: It resembles the inherent love-nature of the God who created us. He loves because He is Love, the purest, most holy love there is: that which carries no thought for itself or regard for gain, but loves because it is all-encompassingly the highest, noblest form of regard, honor, and affection expressible.

There is a fiery joy that comes in the outpouring of such a love. There is an unutterable delight brought in the presence of love like this – because it is to begin to enter the presence of our God of Love. In His presence is fullness of joy, and at His right hand there is pleasure forevermore (Psalm 16:11). Paul states that it was because of the joy set before Him that Jesus endured the cross, despising the shame (Hebrews 12:2). He did it because it was the rightest, holiest and purest expression of unconditional Love – and that is Who He is. When we choose to follow Jesus in this way, we too will experience this kind of joy (John 15:10-12).

Anyone who has looked at the cost of such love and then courageously gives it anyway, regardless of the suffering that inevitably comes, is someone who reflects our Father’s character of love. Whether it’s through marriage, parenting, friendship, or any other relationship with people, this world is filled with hurting folks unable to respond to you the way they should. Children and family members will often return your love with selfishness and thoughtless disregard, friends may take advantage of you, business associates cheat you, strangers mock or dismiss you, or worse. Yet this is how we declare our God’s hope to a broken world: By being a fool with a reckless, huge love like God’s love, incomprehensible and baffling. “The message of the cross is foolish to those who are headed for destruction! But we who are being saved know it is the very power of God.” (1 Corinthians 1:18)

April Fool’s Day is the day we brought your brother home to be part of our family. I used to struggle on this day, remembering the pain and bewildering grief of the death of my expectations and self-pride. Now I know it is a day to celebrate and remember that by my choice to follow Christ, I chose to be like a fool. I am choosing to resemble Him in pouring out my love at any cost, regardless of potential pain. Because that is how He loves me.

I do this with such imperfection and a glaring lack of purity in the love I give. But I will fight to keep my perspective on the One who loved me with such abandoned recklessness. I will pray for the strength to hold out my arms wide to those who might wound me, keep my heart soft and open to those who might crush it, and turn repeatedly to offer that which costs me everything to those who might place a low value on it. Through it all I know that there is nothing in this life that can separate me from my Father’s incredible, indescribably deep love for me. And in that there is unspeakable joy.

I pray that each of you come to a sure understanding of His same wonderful, foolish, life-giving love for you, too, and also find this joy.

All my love always,

Mom

[1] Card, Michael. 1985. God’s Own Fool. On Scandalon. Brentwood, TN: Sparrow Records.

Masterpieces

(One of a Collection of Letters from Me to My Children)

My Dearest Loves:

Imagine a delicate, graceful and beautifully shaped porcelain pitcher: slender handle arcing like a young tree, elegant details carved around the opening. Picture an exotic lantern made of thinly hammered metal, beams of sparkling light glowing through each intricate, carefully designed aperture in the gleaming metal. Think about a perfectly balanced, exquisitely forged sword, deadly but beautiful, sharpened so well that a piece of silk falling on it would be cut with a sound like a whisper.

Picture anything put together, crafted, built, formed, shaped, or created by an artisan. Would anyone ever exclaim in wonder over the beauty or artistry of that piece and then behave as though the object itself was responsible for getting itself to that state, or applaud the piece and overlook the one who made it? Of course not. It would be ludicrous to even think that the object deserved the credit of the artistry, wisdom, and skill of the artisan. The object is beautiful not because it worked its own loveliness, but because it accomplished its role of being yielding, obedient, and faithful.

Any piece of porcelain clay must be soft and willing to yield and change according to the will and pressure of the hands shaping it. But first, it is kept in the dark in a restrictive container. When it is taken out, it must endure dizzily spinning in place for a time, having cold water thrown on it at any given moment, and be pushed, pummeled, and shaped without regard to feelings. It has no control over the artisan’s possible choice to suddenly squash it all flat and start again. It is gouged and carved until everything inside itself is emptied to make a hollow space available for something else which it does not choose. Any excess is cut away, impressions and borders are pinched and pressed. Designs are stamped, painted onto or cut into its smooth surface without consulting it first.

Then it is placed in a kiln of incredible heat for a time. Should it decide to hop out of the kiln, or manage to turn the knob down on the heat to something far more comfortable, it would render itself far less useful, as it would be untempered and unable to withstand the purpose which the artisan designed it for. If the clay piece grew angry in the fire and refused to endure the heat, cursing the hand that placed it there, disaster would follow: it would shatter.

A piece of metal is heated and reheated also in a restrictive container, any impurities bubbling up patiently scooped out under a watchful eye and careful hand. Once solid, it is heated yet again and pounded and molded between two unyielding surfaces, experiencing both the inevitable thud of the mallet and the immobility of the anvil. If it is to be a weapon, after the heating and melting, waiting in the fire, enduring the blows, it also undergoes the grinding grit of the whetstone and the cold trickle of water for another lengthy time.

If the metal object to be created is a lantern, it endures being stamped and pierced, pieces of itself cut out. It is also bent and formed into a shape it did not choose, hollowed and with an empty space. The strength and usefulness of the metal comes from its lack of impurities and its ability to endure both the heating and the beating. By the metal yielding to the pressing and cutting, the scars where pieces of itself were carved out become the apertures intended to show gleams of light. (Like the song from the group Switchfoot: “The wound is where the light shines through[1].”)

Generally, my lovelies, the finer the quality and more exquisite the beauty of a finished piece correlates to the greater the amount of time invested and the more intense the workmanship put into it. At the conclusion, the craftsman receives the honor of the outcome of his labor. His wisdom and skill are applauded, and his creative genius is admired and found inspiring, his work all the more valuable simply because he was the creator.

In the same way, you each are an incomplete masterpiece in the hand of God. Whatever the Creator has chosen for you to become, He has done so with an eye of flawless taste and a wisdom beyond comprehension. He has chosen for you what will not only bring Him the most glory and honor at your completion, but what will give you the most joy by fulfilling what you were created to be. He is the great Artisan who knows precisely what riches He can bring from the raw material we each start out as. The unique treasure we each will become will not resemble another masterpiece, and there are no repeat works.

There comes a great freedom to my heart in recognizing that there is a Master Craftsman at work, and He is not me. There is a joy and a comfort in the peace of a trusting rest in His hands, knowing:

1. He is actively and creatively working on me. I am in His hands every day as long as I choose to stay there. (Psalms 138:8; Philippians 2:13)

2.) He is excited to make of me something uniquely beautiful and glorious. My part is not to seek that for myself, but to yield to His purpose and design. (Romans 12:1, Romans 8:29) In Proverbs, Wisdom speaks, describing how she rejoiced in God’s skill and presence as He established the earth and created all things (Proverbs 8:30-31). We need to be like Wisdom and also take delight and pour out our worship to God as we observe Him working and refining both ourselves and others.

3.) He has already placed in me the essentials to fulfill the purpose He intends for me. I don’t need to look to anyone or anywhere else to find the fulfillment and meaning I need – only to Him. (Job 23:10, Philippians 1:6)

So guess what, my chickadees? All the hopes and big dreams and desires (large and small) that you have? You can take them all to Him, like a trusting little child pouring out a box of treasures in his daddy’s lap, and ask Him to go through them all with you, knowing He will not laugh or mock you, but will lovingly hold you and them, and talk interestedly with you about them. He made your heart, and He designed you to long for certain things, to hope for specific goals. It’s a sign of your own uniqueness and inherent qualities that He wants to use to shape you into the masterpiece He knows you to be. You can trust Him to hold your dreams and desires for you, and when you ask Him to help you decide which to keep as actual treasures and which aren’t as valuable, you can be sure He will gently guide your heart to making those decisions.

Even better, ask Him to give you more! Ask Him to give you the enormous, exhilaratingly huge dreams and hopes that only He could make real. Ask Him to increase your trust in Him, your understanding of His wisdom and power, and invite Him to take the wheel of your imagination for the wildest, most amazing trip of your life. Our God is the Giver of Dreams! He is the Creator with the hugest imagination ever! He gets giddy with joy over you (Zephaniah 3:17), and His plans for you are unsurpassed in wonder and beauty. “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no heart has imagined, what God has prepared for those who love Him.” (1 Corinthians 2:9)

Our greatest joy and our deepest pleasure in life will come, not from gaining attention, approval, or acclaim from others, but in discovering our greatest purpose: an intimate, loving closeness with the One who created us. And as we grow in the utter satisfaction and fulfillment He gives, we will only continue to grow in our own unique beauty and glory as we become more and more what He in His infinite loving wisdom made each of us to be.

This is the end for which He has created and continues to create us: to hold such an inexpressible joy and delight in God that we are filled up and overflowing with such force and abandon we can’t help but influence this world. He makes us to use us, to illuminate and pour out wherever we are, showing the truth of His glorious, masterful wisdom, knowledge, and the inherent Beauty He is.

My darlings, please remember: what you become is less important than who you become. A people who actively adore and thrill at the nearness of their Creator, showing joy and peace while on the spinning potter’s wheel or enduring the flame and the whetstone, singing to the hammer’s rhythm – Such a people of God would be heart-stoppingly powerful in their faithful, glorious revelation of a God who is worthy of such trust.

You and I are truly the living stones that build up the temple of God, both separately and collectively, chosen to house His Holy Spirit and reveal His character to the world (1 Peter 2:5). When we joyously submit to His working in us, teachable and yielded to His design and plan, we display His fingerprints on our hearts. We show His signature on our lives, declaring we are His and He is ours, joining with the beauty of Creation in asserting God’s mastery and craftsmanship (Psalm 19:1). I think His fingerprints on me are more valuable and beautiful than inlaid diamonds, because it means His hands held me and He formed me, and there is nothing more wonderful and precious than that knowledge.

May you and I remain faithful in the flame, holding on to the hope we have, delighting in the Artisan who delights in us. May you believe the love in His eyes as He looks upon you, and rest with joy in the nail-scarred hands that hold you, knowing you are His precious masterpiece (Ephesians 2:10).

All my love always, Mom

[1] “Where the Light Shines Through”, Where the Light Shines Through. Vanguard Records. July 8, 2016.