The Last One Today, I Swear

A dear friend called me this afternoon to ask how I was doing.  See, I emailed her late last night to ask her to pray for me about something, and being a sweet and thoughtful sister in Christ, she called to check up on me.  I laughed and said I was fine, and that, honestly, I'd hardly thought about it.  Praise the Lord, right?  Right!

Well, let me tell you that it wasn't because I'm some paragon of self-discipline and was able to overcome by the sheer force of my holiness.  (Side note: if I ever DO say anything like that, stand back, because there's a ten-foot kill radius when the lightning strikes.)  It was because I've been seriously distracted by the grace of God today.  Woke up pumped to gather with God's people, had my socks knocked RIGHT off by the word preached and applied, watched the Cardboard Stories video I just posted, read my best friend's testimony, cried intermittently all day, praised God for Alfred Hitchcock movies while I watched Notorious, and hardly had a moment to focus on my "issues."  It's been a really, really good day.

And look, here's the thing that I think I haven't been getting lately: it's not that my "issues" don't matter.  They do.  They're real.  They matter to me and they matter to my loving Heavenly Father.  And I don't need to do some Buddhist and/or Hipster thing and detach or transcend or whatever.  I just need to see Christ more vividly than all that other stuff.  

Pain?  It's not an illusion.  Frustration?  Disappointment?  Not always idols, like some well-meaning Christians like to insist.  But man, I keep thinking about the lyrics to that song -- "the things of Earth will grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace."

My stuff, my pain, my frustration and disappointment, I'm still working through it.  I'm still bringing it before the Lord.  But I was reminded today that my "to-think-about" list needs to include a whole bunch more of God and his grace and his Son and his provision and... and ALL that amazing, eternal stuff.  Everything else is still there, it just needs to move way down the list.

Cardboard Stories from The Austin Stone on Vimeo.

Sunday Songs

My Soul, Now Bless Thy Maker
Johann Graumann, tr. by Catherine Winkworth
From the Lutheran Hymnal 1540, based on Psalm 103

My soul, now bless thy Maker!
Let all within me bless His name,
Who maketh thee partaker
Of mercies more than thou darest claim!
Forget Him not whose meekness
Still bears with all thy sin,
Who healeth all thy weakness,
Renews thy life within.
Whose grace and care are endless,
Who saved thee through the past;
Who leaves no sufferer friendless,
But rights the wronged at last.

He shows to man His treasure
Of judgment, truth, and righteousness,
His love beyond all measure,
His yearning pity o’er distress;
Nor treats us as we merit,
But lays His anger by.
The humble, contrite spirit
Finds His compassion nigh;
And high as Heav’n above us,
As break from close of day,
So far, since He doth love us,
He puts our sins away.

For as a tender father
Hath pity on his children here,
He in His arms will gather
All who are His in childlike fear.
He knows how frail our powers
Who but from dust are made;
We flourish like the flowers,
And even so we fade;
The wind but o’er them passes,
And all their bloom is o’er—
We wither like the grasses,
Our place knows us no more.

God’s grace alone endureth,
And children’s children yet shall prove
How He with strength assureth
The hearts of all that seek His love.
In Heaven is fixed His dwelling,
His rule is over all;
Angels, in might excelling,
Bright hosts before Him fall.
Praise Him who ever reigneth,
All ye who hear His Word!
Nor our poor hymns disdaineth—
My soul, O bless the Lord!

When My Plans Fall Through, or "A Little Bit of Oversharing"

This last week or so, dealing with a non-functioning computer and my subsequent inability to keep up with the new blog, has been an interesting microcosm of what my life often looks like.  I plan, and pat myself on the back for coming up with such a brilliant scheme to exalt myself, and imagine what it will be like when my perfectly-conceived plans come to fruition, and then the Lord in His grace kindly tears down my idol of being admired and respected.  Whereupon I typically scramble to rebuild, and the Lord and I go through the process until I finally get it through my thick skull that He will be worshipped alongside no one and nothing else.

 I am twenty-eight.  If you think that ten years ago I thought my life would look like this, you probably need extensive counseling.  I figured I'd be living overseas, married, with a couple of kids, happily cooking meals for my growing family by now.  Instead, I have most of a Master's degree in Theology, I own a little condo, I teach Humanities at a tiny Christian school, and I am, most definitely, still very single.

God is good.  He is teaching me to live a "quiet and peaceful life in all godliness and holiness," knocking down my idolatrous and self-aggrandizing plans, reminding me of His grace and sufficiency.


I guess this is just a reminder to myself.

So, About That.

Yeah, turns out that a site I visited on Monday had been attacked by some lovely phishing scam/spambot folks who implanted a malicious code... in the... something something... gibberish...

Right.  My "Oh yes I shall blog everyday because I live in Perfect World la la la" has gone 100% out the window.  How about we amend that to something along the lines of "my Perfect World passport having been revoked, I shall blog whenever my internet works, my computer is not infected with malicious spybots (which sound WAY cooler than they actually are), and I have some brain capacity."  Sound good?

This section is subtitled "Stuff I Would Ordinarily Put As Status Updates If I Hadn't Given Up Facebook For Lent."

What popular dog breed is named after a Canadian peninsula?  Attention Cash Cab participants: "Golden Retriever" is not a Canadian peninsula.  But LABRADOR IS.

Can winter please be over?  Please?  Now?  Like right now?

I got to think about beautiful words, haiku, and the Music of the Spheres this morning.  At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I love my job.

Speaking of music, it occurred to me last night that listening to Bach's "The Well-Tempered Clavier" is like watching a math teacher do long division.  Precise.  Boring.

Speaking of record players, should I get a record player?  I am really into analog right now.

So yeah, winter.  Begone, please?  Pretty please?

OK.  That's about all.

Sunday Songs: The Church

I hate those cheese-ball alliterative day-of-the-week titles people use on their blogs (Friday Funnies, Mixology Monday, Thursday is for Thrombosis, or whatever), but I thought it would be fun to post the lyrics to some of my favorite hymns and songs on Sundays.  So here goes.  Note that songs about God's people pretty much invariably make me cry (see: The Church's One Foundation, especially verse two about the "elect from every nation"... definitely getting choked up just typing those words).

I Love Thy Kingdom, Lord

I Love thy kingdom, Lord, the house of thine abode,
The church our blest Redeemer saved with His own precious blood.

I love thy church, O God: her walls before thee stand,
Dear as the apple of thine eye, and graven on thy hand.

For her my tears shall fall, for her my prayers ascend;
To her my cares and toils be giv'n, till toils and cares shall end.

Beyond my highest joy I prize her heav'nly ways,
Her sweet communion, solemn vows, her hymns of love and praise.

Jesus, thou friend divine, our Savior and our King,
Thy hand from every snare and foe shall great deliv'rance bring.

Sure as Thy truth shall last, to Zion shall be giv'n
The brightest glories earth can yield and brighter bliss of heav'n.

-- Timothy Dwight, 1800

Ha. Legalism, in your FACE!

So, remember way back two posts ago when I said I was going to try to blog every day during Lent except Sundays?  Yeah, well, apparently that statement had a caveat which goes something like, "And except when I choose to do stuff with people rather than sit in front of my computer."  Not like there are that many people reading at the moment, but in case you're incredibly offended by my failure to live up to my (sorta) word, this one's for you:

You're a legalist.  So am I.  Let's knock it off, mmkay?

I mean, I know that's a great big Easier Said Than Done, but take it under consideration with me.  I grew up in the church, and when I say "in" I really do mean in.  I only recall staying home sick from church one time in eighteen years.  Being an oldest child, female, and blessed/cursed with a temperament prone to caring a great deal about others' opinions, what do you think was a bigger danger: that I was going to go buck-wild and rebel against everything I had grown up believing?  Or that I was going to become a total pharisee, Now With Lightning-Fast Judgmentalism (TM) and Turbo-Powered Self-Righteousness (TM) Built Right In!

There's been a lot of hand-wringing in the last few years about how many kids who grow up in the church turn away from it when they leave for college.  I'm not diminishing the importance of examining the reasons behind that phenomenon, but I think we can get so worked up about the ones who leave that we forget to notice the ones who stay. 

A couple months ago, I told a friend of mine who grew up Roman Catholic and was converted in college that I had never had a mentor.  To say she was aghast would be putting it mildly.  "Well," I explained, "No one ever thought I needed one." 

See, I was the kid who had all the right answers in Sunday School.  I came to church, sang on the worship team, went to youth group, got good grades, stayed out of trouble, spoke politely to adults, seemed happy and well-adjusted.  And I was, for the most part.  But as time went on, I became obsessed with knowing the right answers to everything.  I had to show my parents and the other adults at church that, even though the vast majority of kids in my age group had dropped out of youth group, there was ONE "good Christian" left in the bunch.  I was one miserable little moralist.

Let me tell you from experience that legalism is just as deadly, just as crippling, just as dangerous as license, because both of them cheapen and diminish the Gospel.  While license says, "Well, God will just let it go, it's no big deal," or, "God's love means he wouldn't want me to give up what makes me happy," legalism says, "Grace isn't enough, Christ's death doesn't really count in this situation, being right is all that matters."  License takes Grace for granted; Legalism forgets Grace altogether.  License imagines God as a jovial, wealthy uncle who winks at your mistakes and doles out presents now and then.  Legalism imagines God as an angry, loveless stepfather, waiting for your next mistake, threatening to disown you if you can't get it together.  Lies! 

I don't know who, but an obviously wise and perceptive teacher once said, "God is as dissatisfied with you, Christian, as he is with Jesus."  What a freeing concept for the person struggling with the false guilt of imperfection!  What joy to know that I am in Christ, and that not only has he taken my sin upon himself and dealt with it at the Cross, but his perfect righteousness is credited to me!  He has fulfilled the whole law of God where everyone else has failed, and by God's mysterious grace he has given me the righteousness that he earned.

So no, I don't feel guilty for not blogging yesterday.  Thanks for asking!  :)

Stick Figure Theology: Regeneration

One of my students today got a Miss Roberts' Patented Five-Minute Bonus Lesson (tm).  Seems a friend of hers had been given some pretty half-hearted and misleading information about a pretty dang important theological concept, so we talked about regeneration, salvation in general, and perseverance, for about an hour this morning.

I love my job.

So, in the course of the conversation, I drew a little stick figure guy running away from Jesus (you know, as one does*) and said to myself, "I shall turn this into a blog series."  Way to go, self.  So.  Gather 'round, boys and girls, time for Stick Figure Theology!**

 This is Joe.  Joe is unregenerate.

Because Joe is unregenerate, he hates the things of God.  Though burdened with sin (look!  A bag of sin!  Or... a... Samsonite carry-on suitcase full of sin!), Joe runs from Jesus, and refuses to hear the good news of salvation.  He loves and cherishes his sinful nature, and wants nothing more than to follow his own path.

Joe is SCREWED.

Something must happen for Joe to turn to Jesus for salvation.  So because God has set His love on Joe from the eternal, timeless past, God sends the Holy Spirit to give Joe a completely new heart and nature.  This new heart desires the things of God, hates sin, and wants to be like Jesus.  While Joe's old nature was insensitive to conviction of sin and the voice of the Spirit, this new nature hears and responds to God, and feels the Holy Spirit's conviction.

That is supposed to be the Holy Spirit in the form of a dove.  I am clearly not an artist.  Moving on.

Joe's new heart causes him to want to cast off the sin that burdens him, and to turn to Jesus.  So, when he hears the Good News of a Savior who took his sin and gave him perfect righteousness, he does just that!  Joe repents and believes the Gospel.

Lemme sum up.  Joe, in his unregenerate state, neither desires to worship God nor is able to.  In a miraculous action of undeserved grace, God's Spirit replaces Joe's sinful nature with a new nature -- one that desires salvation and longs to worship God, and that actually CAN worship God.  Joe then responds when he hears the Gospel, something he could not and did not want to do before.  He turns from sin and turns to Jesus, his only hope.

That's Stick Figure Theology: Regeneration.  Stay tuned for more Stick Figure Theology updates.







*Actually, one DOES do this all the time.  Just ask one's students.
** Please excuse the crudity of these drawings.***
*** I have always wanted to say that.

Blogging Lent

Well, welcome to phase three of my blogging life, friends.  This layout will change over the next few weeks undoubtedly, but the content, Lord willing, will be consistently AWESOME.

I gave up Facebook for Lent.  Lame?  I submit that yes, yes it is.  But Facebook is a time-suck in a huge way, and for someone like me with a slightly obsessive personality, it's a distraction from other, more important disciplines.

I read a quote today by Francis Bacon that went something like, "Reading makes a full man, speaking makes a quick man, writing makes an exact man."  I neither read enough nor write enough, though God knows I speak enough!  Precision is the pen's daughter, and I hope to cultivate more of that precision in my writing over the next forty days.

So.  Day one of Lent is Ash Wednesday -- for you modern evangelicals, no, that's not just "something Catholics do".  The Church calendar has been around far, far longer than a certain central Italian bishopric, and the observance of Lent (the forty days, not counting Sundays, leading up to Easter) has been part of the rhythm of the Christian year for many hundreds of years.  My church observes Lent in the same way Christians always have -- not as an effort at achieving right standing before God, but rather as a season of reminder, to help our all-too-forgetful hearts remember the mercy of God upon undeserving sinners.

For at least 1200 years, the practice of the Imposition of Ashes has been a part of the observation of Lent.  Participants receive on their foreheads the sign of the cross in ash, typically the ashes of the palm fronds used in the previous year's Palm Sunday celebration. 

Why ashes?  In the Scriptures, they connote grief, mourning, and repentance.  They remind us of our mortality -- "ashes to ashes and dust to dust."  The ashes used on Ash Wednesday call to mind the hypocrisy of the Palm Sunday crowd whose shouts of praise turned to "Crucify Him!"  As we receive them we remember that we too easily turn from our victorious King and casually reject his Kingship with our sinful lives.

We receive the ashes in the sign of the cross to remind us that, for Christians, death does not have the last word.  The Cross of Christ "speaks a better word" than the condemnation our sin deserves.  Out of death comes life because of the Savior whose power the grave could not contain.

I only had to explain that whole thing about ten times today when I showed up to school this morning with a very large black cruciform smudge on my forehead.  Which is down from last year, so that's progress, I guess!

I find great joy in this time of renewal and remembrance.  It is good for us forgetful Christians to be confronted with the "uncomfortable" doctrines and practices of the Christian life as well as the "happy" ones.  Mourning, confession, repentance -- these must find a place in my own life, lest I hold cheap the mercy of God.  One Puritan pastor told his people that unless sin is bitter, grace will never be sweet.

I pray that this will be a time in which I taste the bitterness of my sin, and know deeply the sweetness of God's grace.  My goal is to write every day, probably briefly, except Sundays, which are traditionally celebrated as miniature Feast Days during which Christians can -- in view of the Great Feast to which we look forward -- break the solemnity of their Lenten fasts.

Praying that you'll enjoy this journey toward Easter with me!