Bringing in More Sheaves - a Harvest of Thoughts of Gentle Gratitude

in keeping with this month of harvest and Thanksgiving, I am incredibly grateful for...


the free gift of grace, the courage i've seen in one man to preach it regardless of what it costs him personally, the courage i've seen in one church to walk in the revelation of it regardless of what it costs them, the courage i've seen in faithful friends to embrace a pure, New Covenant gospel...knowing full well that it means that satan has declared war upon them.



the overthrow of the tyranny of my own ability to perform. the rule and reign of Jesus Christ who said


It.

Is.

Finished.


the epic drama of the cosmic battle between good and evil, human effort and grace, flesh and spirit...only the God of story could weave such a captivating masterpiece, narrated from genesis to revelation to right this very moment...


seasons of harvest, bare limbs of trees, the aesthetic of winter as the earth reveals her "good bones",


23rd wedding anniversaries, friends in texas and scotland, hearing the voice of a trophy of grace via skype all the way from cambodia just today, the miracle of email, the 'block' feature in facebook, and the blessing of old fashioned pen and paper mail,


hope that maketh not ashamed, chanel purses, the designer barbara berry, the composer schubert, target stores, the kitten heel shoe style, and being a girly-girl.

missionaries in columbia, tim's kind brown eyes, new construction going on at my church, my teacup poodle's smooshy mustache - all crooked and cute at the moment, doctors, nurses, and chiropractors, teachers and engineers, and home makers who are the most brilliant of them all.

whole grain pasta, pine nuts, the revelation of the gospel found in the book of romans, friends with november birthdays, having a house full of musical instruments, and the fact that i still believe in speaking in tongues and that God heals today - even instantly...

...for having been instantly healed of a migraine the first week of august, and never again having another migraine headache since that day.


that we've managed by the grace of God and against great odds to not become cynical and jaded, for my grandma's antique furniture, cute reading glasses, and for still caring whether or not my reading glasses are cute.


books, coffee, and a friend who dearly loves both. sparkly crystals on jewelry but not on my jeans, the knowledge that cute swarovski crystal studs are just as an "authentic material" as diamonds and no one but the inauthentic care about the difference in cost.

a throne of grace to which to run in time of need, knowing my need, having my needs met according to the riches of His glory by Christ Jesus, not by my own education, hard work, or morality...

...that i hold in very high esteem education, hard work, and clean living, because this sort of life beautifully adorns the gospel of the God i serve.

the fact that my husband and son just now got home, and i know both will kiss me hello...

Coming to Harvest Church...

Our college/career age small group begins this comprehensive Biblical curriculum this evening:




Got a gigantic pot of chili on the stove, and the Frito's and sour cream ready. Candles are lit. Small group begins at my house in less than half an hour.

And so the Truth Project, Harvest style, begins.

Underlined Bits

I don't underline and highlight only spiritual books or my Bible. I also underline and highlight any beautiful thought, any well turned phrase, from any good book.

I received four (gleefully count with me...one...two...three...four) books by Glady's Taber for my birthday this year, from someone in North Carolina. I thought I'd gotten three - but another one came in the mail today, and I vocalized my delight.

read: I squealed, ever so briefly.

The writing of Gladys Taber will make you feel as though you have been on a vacation. She is hard to categorize, but she usually is found under the heading of "nature writers". When I read her, I can feel my shoulders relax, and my heart unwind from its cares, as I am transported to a little farmhouse in New England, surrounded by Connecticut countryside and cocker spaniels. Now that I've joined the ranks of dog lovers, I can relate to Taber on that level as well.

Here is the lovely thing. A ministry friend of mine from New Jersey also took the time and effort to send me a blissfully long excerpt from one of Gladys Taber's books...for my birthday, arriving on my birthday.

This is the sort of writing I underline and highlight. I had bought one of Taber's books for someone, way back early-spring, and I put it away to give to them this Christmas, thoughtful friend that I am. But this person has lost touch with me, and so...their loss is your gain.

I gift you, this evening, with an ever-so-brief respite from the stresses of the day. The first person who emails me (email address is on the left side-bar) and does not mind sharing his or her address privately, via my email, gets the book I had saved as a Christmas gift. It shall be your gift, from me. I'll pay to ship it to you wherever you are, even Australia. (hint, hint) If you have ever lived in, or wished to live in a historic, cozy home...if you enjoy dogs...if you enjoy the countryside and creation....if you enjoy great writing...you will love this book.

If you want more where this came from, I can't give you any of my birthday books. But you can go to your favorite used book website and purchase one of Gladys Taber's "Stillmeadow" series of books. Enjoy this excerpt!

"Now in November, the leaves spread cloth of gold and red on the ground.
The open fields take on a cinnamon tone and the wild blackberry canes in the swamp are frosted purple. The colors fade slowly to sober hues. The rain falls with a determination in long leaden lines, and when it stops water drips from the eaves.

The voice of the wind changes, for winds are seasonal too. Summer winds blow soft, musical with leaves, except for thunderstorms. Hurricane winds scream. In blizzard time the sleet-sharp gale has a crackling noise. But now the wind has a mournful sound, marking the rhythm of autumn's end. The first beat of winter is not yet here, and country folk tend to spend extra time doing chores or puttering, just to be out of doors.

When Indian summer comes, nothing indoors seems important. I must carry my breakfast tray to the terrace and eat in the wine-bright sun. There is always a haze on the hills, making them dream-like. Eternal summer shines from a soft sky. Perhaps it is such an enchanted time because it is a promise that another summer will come, after winter goes.

In the evening we go outdoors again to be sure the moon is where she should be. The night is cold, but it is not yet the cold that chills the bones. The stars seem very close, some of them seem to be blossoming in the bare branches of the sugar maples. Night is a vast dark sea with the moon a distant light in a mysterious harbor. Stillmeadow seems a small ship to be in such a limitless ocean, but how steadfast it looks under the tall spars of the giant maples! Light shines through the small-paned windows, and I am extravagant enough to keep the house lighted all over just because it looks, in my eyes, so beautiful glowing in the dark."

~Gladys Taber, The Stillmeadow Road - November

"Where?"

If you're reading this via my blog (as opposed to Facebook) please scroll down and hit the pause button on the music playlist on the left...many thanks.

Where are those pastor's wives...those women? I pray I am counted in their small but powerful ranks - those who stake their entire claim on the Pauline gospel of Jesus Christ. Those who have actually studied the whole counsel of God, and discovered "He who was from the beginning". Those who put no confidence in the flesh. Those pastor's wives whom truth has set free. Those who actually swim upstream, not because they are disagreeable or divisive, but rather because they refuse to water down the gospel. Where are those women?

If it isn't the Sound of Joyful Shouting...What Would You Call It?

Moderate strength is shown in violence, supreme strength is shown in levity.~GK Chesterton

Sorry to be over-quoting here , but CS Lewis spoke of pride as being the "unsmiling concentration upon self, which is the mark of hell."

Those words...unsmiling concentration upon self...have been lingering in my mind for days, now. Legalism and religion produce exactly this sort of unsmiling self absorption, and I've finally figured out that this is what bothers me about some people.

I have little fondness for those women who dread looking foolish or inappropriate, above all other kinds of dread. This is the gal who is perpetually aware of what she may look like to others. This pride is conscious of image. This sort of person isn't capable of even the moderate strength of "violence"...she is educated past her talent to be normal...too self aware to raise her voice to anyone, much less trounce them. None of that indecorous moderate strength for that sort of woman. Supreme strength? Forget the supreme strength of joy - it might manifest as a holy levity, and pride has no sense of humor.

If the proud ever do laugh, it is a second-hand emotion, not originating from their own heart, but rather it comes to them predigested. Pride is a consumer, not a producer, of humor.

I have done my share of laughing the last month or two, as certain realities about my world and myself have set in, and I make the choice to see things the way they really are. Some of the cackling is likely tinged in the barest sarcasm - which is indeed the lowest form of humor. 'Tis still humor. But most of my giggling is genuine, and medicinal, and in the company of a few dear friends. We guffaw. We have learned this past week, in the immortal words of my father: "No fools, no fun."

I have fun making a fool of myself. I'll become even more undignified than this! Others try to be all educated-dy and serious, self contained, smartened up, tense from reading dead guys, and they end up having their greatest fear come upon them - looking foolish. Not on purpose like me, mind you. Oh nonono. Never do they look foolish on purpose. Their antics are religiously intense, they know they are in a class by themselves.

::snort wheeze::

I do. I laugh at my own imaginative take on what life must be like to have "unsmiling concentration upon self."

Some say I laugh too loud. I say it is the sound of joyful shouting, heard in the tents of the righteous.

If a loud laugh isn't a sound of joyful shouting, you tell me...what would you call it?

Note - GK Chesterton is not permitted to reply to the question. We already know what he'd call it:

supreme strength.

Bringing In The Sheaves, a Harvest of Thoughts of Gentle Gratitude

I am so grateful for...



the view right outside the window of this vacation hideaway.



maryland crab cakes. bacon-ey salad with ranch dressing. cheesecake. the strength and vitality to walk it all off.



mango scented soy candles. an indulgent husband who buys them for me.



simple pleasures. the fact that soy candles make me more happy than some women can be with diamonds.



palm-sized slices of sunshine, still clinging to rain-soaked trees. the random chirp of a few, hardy crickets, persevering in song as the November sun sets.



long evenings spent reading GK Chesterton. my beautifully embossed, antique copy of "Weight of Glory" by CS Lewis - one I have owned for many, many years now. short evenings spent reading Gladys Taber. reading Wind in the Willows to children.



lamplight - pink light bulbs, to be precise. (nothing makes a room more beautiful than a pink light bulb under any color or style of lampshade.) generous dollops of red in a home's decorating scheme. toile, in restrained amounts. fresh flowers. antique furniture. the matted-and-framed photo of a loch in Scotland - a gift from a well-loved, wee Scotsman.



copper cookware. the fact that my copper pots shine like mad, with a half a lemon and some salt and elbow grease.



the thought that I planted over 50 spring-flowering bulbs into 2 gigantic planters on my back porch, this past week, before leaving for vacation.



dahlias. my canary, who sings like a dream. my parrotlet, who imitates him.



yo yo ma and his cello, eric clapton and his guitar. handel....and his Messiah.

shooting stars, church life, the way I can make him laugh.

That He loved me first.

quiet moments, busy days, isaac's gigantic smile. sarah's musical laugh, hannah's nose that wrinkles when she smiles, josiah's acoustic guitar playing.

adjectives, back roads, the smell of pine needles and the ocean air.

being convinced that I am deeply loved, cameo jewelry, the color orange, and trying new things.

friends in north carolina. having a professional mathematician in the family. having a professional artist almost in the family. being married to a pastor. having a father who has finally retired. a mother who sits by me in church - two trophies of grace we are, sitting side by side.

a sister who is even funnier than I. a brother who is a war veteran, though younger than I.

choosing to carry no baggage in life, red toenail polish, the way my husband weeps as he prepares a message. (every pastor should. does yours? do you know him well enough to say?)

puppy bellies, the winter sky, cicero's thoughts on growing old, palladian windows, old cantilever barns.

being well educated, so that I am not compelled to be a competitive, conspicuous consumer.

being able to afford it, but still not buy it. marriage. funky socks. lycra. baths. cardamom. whole nutmeg.

the fact I can still blow him a kiss and make him forget what he was about to say...

"On Your Mark...Get Set...GO!"

I'm packing lightly...preparing to leave on a much anticipated getaway, just the two of us, tomorrow, to an unspecified location.

The location is unspecified, not because we think we are rock stars, but because it is more fun to say it that way. Very honeymoonish, no? I can tell you this: there will be hot tubbing. There will be views. Plenty of water in the vicinity. There will be a bit of Christmas shopping. There will be a woman, somewhere in the south, clonking around in her western boots, having the most wonderful time of the year.

So if this blog is quiet for a few days, you know why.

Teach Us to Number Our Days

It is true, we do not remember days, we remember moments. The moments we remember, and how we remember them, is a direct result of our perspective. Perspective is a function of the heart.

Of all the Bible teaching I've done, my series (taught in 2007) on Perspective impacted me the most. Art reflects life, and life informs art. In the same way a painter or photographer has to subtract and edit and reframe in order to capture a "moment", so our heart must choose its perspective. Call it perspective. Call it worldview. Call it "attitude determines altitude". Call it theology. Call it what you will, perspective is the mechanism by which you choose what to give attention to, and how you will give attention to it.

Your life, my life, is the sum total of what we choose to give our attention to. We all eat, sleep, dream, work, travel, maintenance our belongings, love, and relate to others in this life. The moments that become our memories are those moments we gave attention to, for right or wrong reasons, whether from a negative or a positive perspective.

Our very concept of God is based on our choice of attention, whether to focus on the God of grace, who has been from the beginning, or to focus on an idol, an image of our own construction.

We interpret Scripture through our heart's perspective. This should sober us deeply.

Just as any artist has to make that critical decision about what to frame up, what to see, what to subtract (the ability to edit is what separates the true artist from the merely talented) we too choose our perspective. Subtract too much, and a room or a book or a life becomes thin and stark, lacking warmth, lacking honesty. Subtract too little, and the beautiful and important get lost in detail. Perspective colors, perfumes, and defines our moments, and thus our days, and thus our life.

The renewal of our mind, the alignment of our hearts with the truth, and the resultant perspective from which we function is of such momentous importance, I could not possibly over emphasize it. We absolutely must take every thought captive to the obedience of the life and finished work of Christ.

Salvation is complete. Redemption is finished. There is only one thing not finished. The renewal of your mind and mine is the unfinished work. It must become our daily pursuit. Sanctification (experiential, not positional) flows from the renewed mind. Only the gospel of the finished work of Christ has the power to literally renew, remake, and remold the mind - no power of self, no level of education, no form of human accomplishment can renew a mind. Only the gospel of the grace of God found in the Bible from Genesis to Revelation, has this mysterious power.

I have experienced more renewal of my mind in one year, this year, than I have my whole Christian experience. This is wholly due to the steady, unrelenting, settled teaching and preaching of the gospel in my church, as opposed to the topical or scatter shot method. It is one thing to know about grace, it is another thing to linger over the reality of it until I see transformation. Sadly, in most churches, we see the gospel treated as though it were good only for getting someone saved and after that we all must work hard at Christianized self modification.

The result of this daily choice to renew my mind in grace, is a transformed perspective that is making moments more vivid and sweet. The pace of my life is speeding up, I am taking on even more work, more responsibilities, making more big plans....yet my experience of life is more and more like a deliciously slow and tranquil holiday. Finally, at age 43, I am beginning to learn how to "number my days". Innately, I am figuring out what to pay attention to, and how to pay attention to it.

Snapshot of a moment: leave in the adorable husband, subtract the annoying habit he has of biting his nails. Simply refuse to characterize him or the moment by what annoys. Pay attention to the gift of being alive and healthy, ignore life's petty inconveniences. Pay attention to the joy of knowing faithful friends. Let the unfaithful ones do whatever it is they do, which will always be centered on themselves. Though they are a mystery to me, I set the puzzle of them aside, because some things I will never understand. Unfaithful people obviously don't need or want my attention - faithful people do need me, however, and I need them. So I move on. I take joy. As the artist in my own life, I edit what I choose to give my precious moments of attention to.

This habit of attention is what slows down the experience of a well lived life. It will enable you to hold a moment of time in your hand, as it were, and let the facets of it dazzle you. Then you enjoy the next moment. Then the next. You don't have to empty your schedule and create a contrived, self absorbed serenity to experience this wonder of a slow, deliberate life. You won't have to think of happy thoughts and grasp for insightful things to say. The grace of God can transform your perspective to the point that you gain the ability to savor, to count your blessings, to number your days, becoming wise enough to know what to pay attention to.

Your life is the sum total of what you give your attention to, and what kind of attention you give it.

Ps 90:12 So teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

Whoozahappygirl?

Are certain magical planets in perfect alignment this week?

Has the fairy Godmother sprinkled me with fairy dust while I was asleep last night?

Or is God just good to His girls?

I think it is the last one. You might think this is shallow, but girls, I actually found a pair of Michael Kors jeans for....(are you sitting down?)...$19.99. These are $150 jeans if you are crazy enough to pay full price retail, which I do not believe I have ever done in all my life.

But even I don't tend to find deals this good, unless I am thrift store shopping. You can't even get them on ebay for this great a deal. I checked.

These jeans fit perfectly (read: comfortably), and look exactly the way I want them to. I have a thing about "mom jeans". I don't wear them. I also have a thing about jeans with any sort of embroidery on the leg, any sort of sparkley anything. I don't wear them. One makes me look old, the other like I'm trying too hard.

This pair of jeans has the perfect fading, not too much, not too little, and when I sit down....well, you know. It's all good.

If that were not enough, I got a gorgeous pair of Sage western boots for my birthday. I either heard angels singing when I saw the box, or was about to pass out. These babies are cute, cute, cute. And comfortable. I've never been to Texas, but I can now look as long and sort of lean as any Texas girl, and besides, Kenny Chesney is from around these parts, so I feel entitled to wear these boots with pride.

For those who are more visual, here you go:

the exact jeans I found today...and that might be me, there. Well. It could be. Ten pounds from today.

My boots. Exactly my boots. Butter soft leather.

Michael Kors jeans - $19.99 + tax, which here in Tennessee is the highest in the world, I think.

Western boots - free

Feeling happy, "stylin' and profilin" - priceless

More Than Content...

I think it was Socrates who said, "He who cannot be content with what he has, will not be content with what he wants to have." This is as true about relationships and family and church, as it is about houses or cars.

It has also been said that true wealth consists not in having what you want, but wanting what you have. November has rolled around again, tomorrow is my birthday. This always brings out the philosopher in me.

I not only have what I want...I want what I have. I. Am. Content. I have been blessed with fabulous wealth, in the form of people. I have a cup that runs over with more than a few faithful, funny, talented, loving and lovable friends and family members, all who manifest the character of God into my life.

Yesterday, on my way to church, one of these beautiful friends pulled up beside me at a stoplight. We obviously were on our way to different churches, but we have known one another, both up close and from a distance, for two decades or more. She motioned for me to roll down my window. When I did, all she shouted to me was ~

I love you.

Then she said, for no real reason ~

We've hung in there together, haven't we?

I nodded, tears stinging the backs of my eyelids. Happy tears, by the way. I know this woman. She hasn't been reading my blog. She's not the technology type. She hasn't been reading my journals, I'm sure.

But she read me like a book. In an instant, and from a distance, across pavement and rolled down glass, she read my heart of hearts, and reflected back to me what I value most.

"We've hung in there together. We're traveling in the same direction. We hold the same things in high esteem. We've been through some incredibly rough spots, we have both wanted to walk away....but we didn't. "

God blew me a kiss yesterday morning, through that encounter. He communicated His approval of my choices in life. I love relationship. I value honest communication. I despise anything that sows discord amongst spiritual family and blood family. It is more than concept or words on a screen to me. My choices prove it.

Once again/again/again, I ate the fruit of vineyards that Tim and I had labored to plant years ago. I "inhabited" a relationship that my husband and I had labored to build, and then to preserve...when at one time, it would have been easier to leave it, and start over with someone else.

Did I say I am content? Oh...I am so content.

It ain't even officially my birthday yet, but please smile with me over all these tokens of love I'm already receiving!

On Friday, my elderly neighbor brought me the real hydrangea. An hour later, my good friend Mrs. Stimphill (that would be "Stinnet" and "Hemphill" combined) brought the gift bag. In flower language, I learned from a book here at home, the hydrangea means preservation - preservation of love that lasts for ever. Thanks, Lord!

Birthday gifts, so far...(yeah. I love presents.)

What could be in this box??

Black Russian!

cards...

books, that just arrived via post, moments before I published this blog...

The best card - from my little friend David, whose birthday is same day as me. (That would be tomorrow, for those who still wish to send presents to either of us.)

Circa 1650's

The following text originates from a fictional dialogue between a pastor, a legalist, an antinomian, and a young Christian, as written by Edward Fisher in his 1650 book The Marrow of Modern Divinity. This is one of the most beautiful explanations of the gospel of grace that I have read.


"I tell you from Christ,
and under the hand of the Spirit,
that your person is accepted,
your sins are done away,
and you shall be saved;
and if an angel from heaven should tell you otherwise,
let him be accursed.
Therefore, you may (without doubt) conclude
that you are a happy man;
for by means of this your matching with Christ,
you are become one with him,
and one in him,
you ‘dwell in him, and he in you’ (1 John 4:13).
He is ‘your well beloved, and you are his’ (S. of S. 2:16).
So that the marriage union betwixt Christ and you
is more than a bare notion or apprehension of your mind;
for it is a
special,
spiritual, and
real union:
it is an union betwixt the nature of Christ,
God and man,
and you;
it is a knitting and closing,
not only of your apprehension with a Saviour,
but also of your soul with a Saviour.
Whence it must needs follow that you cannot be condemned,
except Christ be condemned with you;
neither can Christ be saved,
except you be saved with him.
And as by means of corporeal marriage all things become common betwixt man and wife;
even so, by means of this spiritual marriage,
all things become common betwixt Christ and you;
for when Christ hath married his spouse unto himself,
he passeth over all his estate unto her;
so that whatsoever Christ is or hath,
you may boldly challenge as your own.
‘He is made unto you, of God,
wisdom,
righteousness,
sanctification,
and redemption’ (1 Cor. 1:30).
And surely,
by virtue of this near union it is,
that as Christ is called ‘the Lord our righteousness’ (Jer. 23:6),
even so is the church called, ‘the Lord our righteousness’ (33:16).
I tell you,
you may,
by virtue of this union,
boldly take upon yourself,
as your own,
Christ’s watching,
abstinence,
travails,
prayers,
persecutions,
and slanders;
yea,
his tears,
his sweat,
his blood,
and all that ever he did
and suffered
in the space of three and thirty years,
with his
passion,
death,
burial,
resurrection,
and ascension;
for they are all yours.
And as Christ passes over all his estate unto his spouse,
so does he require that she should pass over all unto him.
Wherefore,
you being now married unto Christ,
you must give all that you have of your own unto him;
and truly you have nothing of your own
but sin,
and, therefore, you must give him that.
I beseech you, then,
say unto Christ with bold confidence,
I give unto thee, my dear husband,
my unbelief,
my mistrust,
my pride,
my arrogancy,
my ambition,
my wrath,
and anger,
my envy,
my covetousness,
my evil thoughts,
affections,
and desires;
I make one bundle of these and all my other offences,
and give them unto thee.
And thus was Christ made ‘sin for us, that knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in him’ (2 Cor. 5:21).
‘Now then,’
says Luther,
‘let us compare these things together,
and we shall find inestimable treasure.
Christ is full of
grace,
life,
and saving health;
and the soul is freight-full of all
sin,
death,
and damnation;
but let faith come betwixt these two,
and it shall come to pass,
that Christ shall be laden with
sin,
death,
and hell;
and unto the soul shall be imputed
grace,
life,
and salvation.
Who then is able to value the royalty of this marriage accordingly?
Who is able to comprehend the glorious riches of his grace,
where this rich and righteous husband,
Christ,
doth take unto wife this poor and wicked harlot,
redeeming her from all devils,
and garnishing her with all his own jewels?
So that you,
through the assuredness of your faith in Christ, your husband,
are delivered from all sins,
made safe from death,
guarded from hell,
and endowed with the
everlasting righteousness,
life,
and saving health
of this your husband Christ.’”
—Edward Fisher, The Marrow of Modern Divinity (Christian Focus, 2009), pp. 166–167.

I very much want this book. I am presently on a quest...

Sheila: (shē-lə), n. 1. Saint 2. Poet 3. Lover of home and church life. synonyms: simple, happy, free. antonymns: cynical, religious, legalist

(please do excuse the pearls with the jeans. I left my top half exactly as I had dressed it before church, and switched just the bottom half for the picnic, after church. Before the jeans and slip on shoes, I was wearing the cutest pair of woolen, menswear style, navy blue, cuffed-hem trousers, with a wide leg ~ accessorized with navy blue and burgundy leather spectator pumps. See how the sweater-and-pearls then comprised a classic outfit? I rocked it) ::perky sniff::

"The hearth is the heart of the home...(there are those who have) lost the sense of the sacredness of the home (and I would say also "the church"). They still believe in the respectability of the home (and church); but that is only another way of saying that they want to be respected by other people for reverencing what they do not really reverence...there is/was never any flame upon their altar...(thus) a generation in revolt flee from a cold hearth (and church)...

...but a family (or church) will really do without rules exactly in proportion as it is a successful family (church)...

...in order that life should be a story of romance to us, it is necessary that a great part of it should be settled for us without our permission. If we wish life to be a system, this may be a nuisance; but if we wish it to be a drama, it is an essential...

...A man has control over enough things in his life to be the hero of a novel. But if he had control over everything, there would be so much hero that there would be no novel. And the reason why the lives of the wealthy are at bottom so tame and uneventful is simply that they can choose the events. They are dull because they are omnipotent. They fail to feel the adventures because they can make the adventures. The thing which keeps life romantic and full of fiery possibilities is the existence of these great plain limitations which force all of us to meet the things we do not like or do not expect...

...To be in a romance is to be in uncongenial surroundings...

...our fathers believed in the links of kinship and also in the links of logic. Today, our logic consists mostly of missing links; and our family largely of absent members...

Today, there are fewer places to discover. The real adventure is to stay home (both to stay home-home, and to stay with your church home)."

~G.K. Chesterton (parenthetical associations are my own. Robert Frost said that an idea is a feat of association. I believe it! )

I Cannot Choose!

Today has been one of those days (they happen to me pretty often) where I have contemplated a thousand thoughts of beauty. Which one to choose? What to send out, to take its place in the trillions of words and billions of ideas sloshing around the internet this day?

My (so far) 18 month obsession with 3X5 index cards as an organizational tool? The thought of a Blackberry is tempting but unnecessary, PDA's DOA, and even my Outlook cannot outshine the simple, earthy, physical act of putting pen to paper - paper that happens to be the perfect size and intensely portable. Many more ideas have been captured, to be examined at my leisure, rather than sneaking away.

The autumn colors? I could write about them. I nearly run off the road every year, about this time. October 2009 is no exception.

The way I have discovered that I have to shield the eyes of my tiny parrotlet, when I walk with him, to keep him from getting too nervous and flighty? Oh, how the Lord would gather you under His wing, dear one! He would shield your furtive eyes from the unsafe terrain of human wisdom, but "you would not". We insist on our own understanding, we insist on walking in the light of our own eyes. Consequently, we become flighty and impulsive. We fly away when it would be safer to sit still until the feeling of confusion or unrest or boredom or anxiety passes. We move too fast, with too little wisdom. "Like a bird who wanders from his nest, is a man who wanders away from his place." (Proverbs 27:8)

We think we know where we belong, we think we know where to "go", when it is safest and sanest to sit still, and not try to see All Things.

What about this comment, left by someone I do not know, about grace? "Grace is a funny thing to talk about because it’s often thrown into conversations or sermons and I have no idea what it means. It seems very “airy” with no real content." I wish this man John could come to my church! His thoughts mirror what the majority of Christians perceive about grace, were they only honest enough to admit it.

Grace is a loaded concept. It is more than a concept. It is a Person, it is a Plan, it is beautiful and scandalous, it is a way of living, it is a way of seeing, it is utterly foundational. It RE-news your mind, over and over and over again, as you grow in it. Grace is the gospel, and the gospel is the grace of God. John's words, typed into the seeming-nothingness of his computer monitor, echo the condition of the whole church, and I find my heart tenderly breaking.

I know my life's mission. No heartbreak, no mission. Find where your heart breaks, and you'll know.

What about the joys of lobster bisque soup? Had some today. It could be an entire blog post. I could make it work.

Or the fact that, at the gentle, persistent urging of Ann Voskamp's blog "A Holy Experience", I have joined the many, many who are keeping a gratitude journal, and journaling our way to 1,000 gifts of God to be thankful for? You should see my list, begun only recently:

1. Coffee, with white chocolate macadamia cream and a touch of sugar
2. A quiet Saturday afternoon, watching football with my Tim.
3. A busy Sunday with saints who happen to be my best friends - all of them!
4. The warmth of a pocket parrot on the back of my neck.
5. The effect of Comet on stainless steel sinks.
6. The canary's song.
7. The flickering of a candle beside my bed.
8. Neckrubs from my youngest son.

That's just a few - there's more, and I only started this past week.

Or, I could blog on and on today, regarding the one phrase in Scripture: "This man Jesus...went about doing good..." It has inspired me, day after day, for about a week to ten days, now. I have fresh context for doing good - a context I didn't have before. I see in my spirit a brand new zeal to simply find someone, and do good. Good, for its own sake, is so....so good....so God-like.

Maybe I could share about my own personal version of Lauds and Vespers? Lovely thoughts, those.

Blast it, I can't choose.

We Don't Have It All Together...

...but together we have it all.

You are looking at a mother and her sons (Isaac, me, and Josiah)...three people who are full of faults, foibles, quirks, sins, thoughtless deeds, deep thoughts, and in some areas we each one possess more than a fair share of talent.

As parents, mine and Tim's relationship with our boys has been tested and tried this past year, and all while dealing with profound challenges and transition in our lives, while planning our daughter's wedding, while pouring out our hearts in the gospel, while swimming around the fishbowl of being a ministry family. It doesn't matter whether the fishbowl is small or large, a fishbowl is a fishbowl, and we live in one.

Tim and I have had to put up with criticism from one or two regarding our parenting, our personality, our words, and probably even our animals. (!!) I would not be a bit surprised if even our poodle's misbehavior was attributed to our emphasis on the gospel of grace. The scrutinization has been excruciatingly petty at times, and at other times it has been used by God to bring adjustment.

Bottom line? We just can't seem to be able to force anyone or any creature behave as it ought. How utterly inept, no?

Well, my answer to that, and the real point of this blog post, is that "those who preach the gospel should live of the gospel." Now I realize the original context of this verse quoted was to validate the idea that some men will make their living by serving the church. Still yet, the logic holds up - those who preach the sufficiency of Christ will be challenged to live it out in the secret place of relationship. Those who preach the finished work of Christ better be ready to deal with the "togetherness" of that finished work's reality.

Don't preach the gospel until you are willing to walk it out in in very real and sacrificial ways. Your opinion can be your version of the perfect world, and there are no real relationships in a perfect world. The gospel itself has no context outside relationships. God wanted relationship with us, and went to the ultimate length to make it possible. We, in turn, do the same in each and every significant relationship we have.

People can be so inappropriate. I could very well be the princess of inappropriate. No matter. The worst inappropriate-ness there is, is to imagine yourself to be superior.

At the most basic level, a Christian is to be an imitator of God, and thus we most certainly can give something akin to divine grace to others. We can be a conduit of a small amount of undeserved blessing, if you will. I call it "manifesting the faithful love of Christ to the ones we care about." Nothing in this world will mature you and perfect you like living the gospel out in relationship will do in you.

"The Kingdom offends our sense of propriety because it's filled with inappropriate people. But, that's its greatest Gospel glory." ~Thomas Chalmers~

Sunday Afternoon

A Harvest Church covered dish dinner, today - great food, sweet fellowship, and adorable babies.

It was a crowd. I could not believe the line at the food tables!

This is about half the line....and a bunch had already been through.


Our youth pastor and his son...

To know this girl is to love her!

In line for ham, pulled pork BBQ, casseroles, salads, desserts galore...

These sisters take their NFL football sort of seriously.

Harvest men take their yard-football totally seriously. Jeff Kear is in big trouble for ruining an entire outfit this afternoon. Does he care? Nah...

A mother's love. (Our Angel and her son Jordan...)

Our much-loved motorcycling couple (Phillip was the national champion vintage bike racer a few years back!)

The tall guy in the dark sweater and glasses is our very first "home grown" missionary. We will be sending him on his first long-term stint to Cambodia in January. (see http://www.lightincambodia.org/)

The farmhouse...

goat pen...

Pre-shus!

beautiful fall colors - one of the many pastoral views on the farm this afternoon.

Practicing His Presence

I have had in my possession for many years, an unequaled classic by Brother Lawrence, "The Practice of the Presence of God" written over 300 years ago as a compilation of his personal letters to close friends.

Brother Lawrence left the presumed stillness and serenity of the countryside to join a Carmelite monastery. He came to deeply doubt the effectiveness of the whole "alone with God all the time" lifestyle, wishing instead to live with a brotherhood. He felt, and I quote, "Life within such a group is based on the firm rock of Jesus Christ, rather than on the shifting sands of individual devotion. Also the members of the group could edify and exhort one another, thus protecting themselves against the changeableness of their individual whims."

Brother Lawrence was known as a hard worker, and one for whom no job was too small. He said, "To think we must abandon conversation with God in order to deal with the world is erroneous."

One of Brother Lawrence's close friends wrote this about him, "He thought it was a shame that some people pursued certain activities, mistaking the means for the end. " In one of his letters, Lawrence himself wrote, "The only requirement is that we place our confidence entirely on God. Abandon any other concerns, including any special devotions you have undertaken simply as a means to an end. God is our end. If we are diligently practicing His presence, we won't need our former means."

"The King, who is full of goodness and mercy, does not punish me. Rather, He embraces me lovingly, and invites me to eat at His table. He serves me Himself, and gives me the keys to His treasury...He converses with me without mentioning my sins or His forgiveness. My former habits are seemingly forgotten."

"The most intimate union with God is the practice of His presence. The actual presence of God. Although this relationships with God is totally spiritual, it is quite dynamic, because the soul is not asleep, rather, it is powerfully excited! In this state, the soul is livelier than fire, and brighter than the unclouded sun, yet at the same time, it is tender and devout."

Because God led Brother Lawrence more by love than by the fear of His judgement, his counsel tended to inspire the same kind of love. He encouraged other Christians to rely on God's love to lead them, rather than the knowledge of learned men. He used to tell his brothers, "It is the Creator who teaches truth, who in one moment instructs the heart of the humble and makes him understand more about faith and even about Himself, than if he had studied them for a long term of years.

It was for this reason Brother Lawrence carefully avoided answering those curious questions that lead nowhere, and only served to burden the spirit and dry up the heart.

He walked in deep revelation of grace, and I close with this quote, which I also embrace as my own. Brother Lawrence said it first, but hear it being said in my own voice, those of you who know what my voice sounds like:

"If you think of me, remember the grace with which God has blessed me rather than my typically human ineptitude."

I'll be here, practicing the presence of God the way Br. Lawrence taught me, the way some practice music or speaking a language or practice yoga. I'll be here, busy but refreshed, bustling but calm, praying to God and hearing from God as I go about the business of my day, as well as setting aside "quiet time". Both setting aside time to pray, and praying without ceasing, with full and equal awareness of God's presence is the secret. A full life and full schedule is something to be delighted in, and I want to thank Brother Lawrence, when I see him someday, for teaching me the secret of practicing God's presence, even when I am in the midst of the most busy, stressful, or tedious event. There is an art to it...I almost dare to say you'd have difficulty learning it apart from this great work, "The Practice of the Presence of God" by Brother Lawrence.

He was a man of great grace revelation.

Tired For All the Right Reasons

So much being written these days about "quiet stillness" and "slowing down" and "taking time to just be". I've been the source of some of it in recent months and years! How boring. How overdone.

And here I go ("again", my grumpy critics would say - all critics are grumpy)

Fine. Here I go again...contradicting my own self.

I am so comfortable with that. First of all, life is full of paradox and replete with contradiction. I can have a good day and a bad day, all in the same day! I want to live a simplified-sort of life, yet I want to accomplish a thousand worthy goals. I can love someone and sometimes not like them. The only thing I can't do is care and not care enough to take responsibility at the same time. But I hear that some folks manage to do it. If that is you, please tell me your secret. Because when I don't take responsibility, I would have to admit that it is because I don't care.


But in general, I am on good terms with contradiction. I understand it. Rainbows cannot exist without two seeming opposites (sun, rain) coming together.


Think of me as the personification of a rainbow. I am colorful. I am a study in contrasts. Get over it. I don't care, and therefore refuse to be responsible. It's my blog. If it bothers you, go read someone boringly bored-in on one perspective. Go read the stilted paragraphs of an intellectual knot-on-a-log, who just happens to be really trying hard to think pretty, happy thoughts, to compensate for being innately grumpy about everyone else's salvation. Go read an Arminian. Me? I happen to own it all! (see blog post from August entitled "I Own That")

Contradiction, contrast, paradox, mystery...it all belongs to me, and it all fills me with unjaded - and some tell me contagious - delight.



So. I'm completely worn out, and it is wonderful. My life is anything BUT quiet and sweet and still-ly serene, and that's something to be jealous of. I've learned that all that "simple, quiet" stuff is all so much bull, anyway. Two types of people carry on about being quiet and serene, as if it were better than being beautiful and busy: people who are bored with too much time on their hands, or people who have not yet mastered the art of inner stillness, regardless of outer circumstances.


No one has the authority to talk to you about the stillness of God unless they are currently in the middle of the busiest, most complicated season of their life. No one has the authority to talk to you about scheduling unless they don't have the time to talk to you about scheduling, but they fit it into their schedule anyway. No one has the authority to talk to you about joy unless they are always smiling, after having to fight for their joy. No one has the authority to talk to you about mending fences unless they have mended most of theirs, and no one has the authority to talk to you about relationships unless they are busy loving a whole lot of people.

No one has the authority to talk to you about authority unless they themselves are under authority.



Yeah - Biblical logic trumps everything.

I've been too busy on one side, and I've been too still on the other side. Being too busy is better.

See...being too still makes you feel exhausted. Being too busy makes you feel exhausted, but for all the right reasons.


And that kind of exhaustion is both appropriate and curable. All it takes to cure that kind of fatigue is a bath or a nap. I find myself awakening early in this season of my life, feeling rested and ready most days. I typically lay in bed for awhile longer, savoring the start of a new day, and that is about all the "quiet time" I ever see.



I have recently decided that...honestly, now...I love it. I'm tired, and I'm delighted! I'm worn out from doing the work of tending relationships, and diving into new friendships, sink or swim! I'm tired from the creative outflow of writing, planting, harvesting, helping others, growing, mastering new skills, making new intellectual connections and maintaining all I've studied so far. It takes a whole lot of effort to do what you know!



Next year, I might prattle on about the simple, still life again. If I do, I hope I find a way to make it interesting. For now, I'm burning the candle at both ends, and it feels like a party.

It is both healthy and desirable to burn the candle at both ends, when you can afford another box of candles anytime you want them. An empty schedule equals an empty life. My daytimer is crammed full of names and events.

Such a full life. Makes me tired, just writing about it.

"These Are the Precious Times..."

Our college-career small group. (Well, the man standing is in his 50's, but he's a nurse-anesthetist, and that is a career, after all! He also sort of owns the house. L-R Chris, Matthew, Bruce, Jillian)

Our Emily...incredibly dear...highly gifted musician...intelligent college student, University of Tennessee..."helping the kitty down from the roof." (Hint: Kitty was perfectly happy right where she was.)

It was starting to get chilly...

A time of sweet worship...(L-R, Josiah, Johnathan, Sarah, Emily, Kate...more students were there, not in the frame.)

That's Tim, in the Old Navy hoodie...and me...worshipping while getting a neck-rub from my youngest, Isaac. (small disclaimer: our college group is not typically open to high schoolers, but since Tim and I lead it, we sometimes bring our youngest with us. If we left him home alone for every responsibility we had to fulfill, he would truly be home alone raising himself much of the time. Can't do that, now, can we?)

Extraordinarily Happy Ordinary Days

Here I sit, blogging away, I hear the sound of the NFL football game floating in from the livingroom (my youngest son and my husband have this Monday night man-ritual), the voices of my newly married daughter and her husband (who are spending the night here tonight, just for kicks, in her old room) and the laughter of my other daughter Sarah, as she doubtless is on the phone with her beloved.

Josiah (oldest son) called me today just to tell me that he loves me and to thank me - a simple thank you for sticking by him, keeping him near to my heart, and for being his mom. Does life get any sweeter?

He also wanted to tell me that a friend of his that he brought to our college-age small group yesterday, a young man who doesn't yet know Christ, thinks that I'm a really, really great mom. I think I must have also won the lottery and just don't know it yet, because...well, because life is just that good today.

This kid, Josiah's friend, wants to come to Harvest - and this is after hearing the gospel, through various college kids and Tim and me, all evening long last night.

All twenty of us sat around our friends' built-in firepit, on their gorgeous, huge new undulating back porch, all made of flagstone. Picture if you can, a postcard-perfect Federal Blue painted, slate roofed, post and beam home, without a single television inside that home anywhere, as you walk through...no TV exists in this historic home - just the sound of a wood burning stove, and soft instrumental music playing. You continue out to the back porch. There is a large blue barn, also post and beam constructed, behind us. To the side is a horse barn with two horses, and down from there, you see goats frolicking, and one by one the stars began to come out...shining incredibly brightly, there in the country where there is no city light whatsoever.

Yeah. That mental image is a metaphor for my life these days. Completely. Good.

If you tramp the acreage that is part of this property, you will find a creek - more like a small river. Spring-fed, and refreshingly cool in the summer, or so all the teenage boys of Harvest tell me.

Tim and I were graciously and sincerely told to schedule anything, at any time on their property...to make use of this very sought after space anytime we needed it. We won't be taking unfair advantage of such generosity, though this family is part of our church, but we couldn't help but tearily smile. Well, I tearily smiled. Tim just grinned.

When God closes a window, He opens a barn door, apparently.

(...members of Very Large Churches in our city regularly ask to schedule their events here, to be near this quaint setting, to make use of the post and beam barn...we get first dibs.)

We were full of baked beans, home made potato salad, and chili dogs, all graciously prepared by Lynn, and one by one three guitars popped out, and we began to sing. The owners of this property were glowing with joy, absolutely loving having this group meet at their home. We sang in the freezing cold, sitting close to the fire, for a long time. It was worship. Josiah's friend thought it a bit strange, I'm sure, but he enjoyed it so much he is coming back. I don't blame him.

The goodness of God was in quiet evidence in the people and the place - a pervasive peace blankets the Bower's property. I hope they realize that they are very much a part of the sowing that took place in that young man's life. When he gets saved, they will share in that reward. That is how hospitality works.

On another note (and an oh-so-random note at that) here is a picture of "my new baby". Yup. There's a brand new baby at the Atchley house. He is an early birthday present from Tim for me, and he is named after Cary Grant:



Grant, the pocket parrot. (Also known as a "parrotlet")


Grant, sitting on Isaac's shoulder...

Last but not least, I made something called "40 Clove Garlic Chicken" today:




I had to take a picture of forty cloves of garlic, piled on my cutting board!
(later note: I promise, I didn't realize the card was back there when I snapped the picture. I'm not flaunting it on purpose. ACK! I clicked on this picture, after posting it, and realized that you can see this card, plain as plain. Oh well. I'm leaving this picture here, just the way it is. That card sits where I've had it since I got it in the mail four days ago...it puts a smile on my face all the time.)



You place some celery, onions, and a large roasting chicken in the crockpot. Sprinkle the chicken generously with coarse salt, fresh cracked pepper, paprika, rosemary and thyme. Pile forty...you read right: forty. cloves. of. garlic. all around the chicken and switch on the crockpot.

After awhile, you will be treated to the tenderest, best chicken you have had in a long time. Guaranteed. Just don't eat the garlic...it is there to flavor the chicken, or maybe just to smell startlingly good for hours and hours.
In short, this blog is about church life. Which also happens to be my life. Harvest Church isn't a "place" as much as it is a way of living. You have to experience it to understand it. It is abundant living, challenging living....purposeful and passionate living. It is community. It is all things ordinary and exquisite and frustrating and tedious and glorious.
If you don't have a church home, come experience this life. If you have a church home - please....stick and stay there. The rewards are stunning.

Interesting Bits from Other Places

Grace Vs. Deliverance

By: Preston Gillham

Proverbs 3:34b says, “…He (God) gives grace to the afflicted.”

I read that and wondered why God would give grace and not deliverance.

...Many times grace is a training ground run through tear-blurred eyes and which in the end leaves your heart strong, your spiritual muscles toned, and your head clear and organized.

Proverbs 3:34 is repeated in the New Testament in 1 Peter 5:5. It is interesting to note the context that Peter chose in writing this passage under the inspiration of the Spirit. Much of chapter five discusses hard times: Anxiety (vs. 9 and 10). After having defined the world of grace Peter closes the chapter and book by saying that he has spoken of the true grace of God… “Stand firm in it (grace of God)!”

Unless you live in the world of grace you will not get to know it. Grace cannot be learned apart from hardship.

At points in my journey I plead for an easier road and the Lord exhorts me that I have asked to hope only in Him. I would like to learn the ways of the Lord while seated by a mountain stream, but He faithfully encourages me that His way is the wilderness and only there will I really be able to trust Him.

Take courage in your hardship, trial, affliction, discouragement, etc. The Lord Jesus has given you His peace.

For Lifetime Guarantee, that’s our Lifetime Weekly.

"My Own" Friend

"Ripe age gives tone to violins, wine, and good friends."
~James Townsend Trowbridge


I would add "good Godly friends".

I attended the wedding of a daughter of dear friends last night. My Tim and I drove two hours in the rain to get there, arriving just in time. The church sanctuary was beautiful, but more than that, there was this sweet, sweet atmosphere in the air, the sort that doesn't come from decor, regardless of how elegant the look. That sweetness came from the people who filled the room - they all came out of love, and each person brought a unique and joyful energy. We couldn't wait to see this young couple say their "I Do's".

Tim and I were there when this young couple's parents got married. Back then, we all were young twenty-somethings together, and I remember Tim sang for them, during their ceremony. Fast forward, many many days....there we were last night...about two decades later, attending their daughter's wedding.

God means for relationships to be that good. Generational love.

As I sat, looking at faces we have known, loved, and worked with to some degree or another in Master Builders, some for twenty years, I was deeply content to simply be there. As I breathed in the fragrance of friendship, I thought to myself: This is the sort of continuity that can only come with the passing of years upon years. I would not trade this continuity of relationship for anything. I would not leave these co-laborers in the Kingdom for anything short of someone denying Jesus Christ.

Oh, dear ones! Good, gospel-loving friends are not a dime a dozen. To have a good, old friend is a piece of crazy-fortunate fortune, a priceless gift, a treasure beyond all reason. Look around you....who is "still there"? Who manifests the faithful love of Christ to you? Tell them how much you value them - do it today, please, because I assure you this, with all my heart: most men will each proclaim his own goodness, but a faithful man (or woman), who can find? (Proverbs 20:6)

Vows were spoken, as our dear friends (father and mother of the bride) looked on, misty eyed. The father both gave his daughter away, and then officiated her wedding. Tim and I remarked at his poise and sense of humor, and the great job he did for his daughter - he certainly did her proud. As the wedding party and bride and groom skipped back down the center aisle to the fun song "I Feel Good", everyone was smiling. I think there were as many people there for the sake of the parents, as were there for the bride and groom - I know how this feels, and it is absolutely a humbling sense of affection and relationship.

Tim and I ran back out into the rain, jumped in our vehicle, and started for home. Though invited to stay for the dinner reception, we had to get back to town for several important reasons. We left a lot of irons in the fire just to make the trip - two hours there and two hours back...all for 45 minutes of ceremony, if not less.

So worth it. We'd have traveled longer, were it necessary.

The words of a poem come to mind ~

"From quiet homes and first beginning,
Out to the undiscovered ends,
There's nothing worth the wear of winning,
But laughter
And the love of friends."
~Hilaire Belloc

I have only a few things that are "my own". My house is not even yet "my own". My wedding ring is my own. My husband is my own. Of the very few things that are my own, even fewer - two, in fact - are eternal: family and Godly friends.

Treasure both. If you are insanely blessed, you will find yourself laboring in the Kingdom alongside both family and friends. Make almost any concession to preserve that kind of continuity. God loves it, He smiles on it. There is no other way to establish a generational Kingdom work, but to stick and stay and care about the continuity. No. Other. Way.

It is never God's will that you "build houses, but not inhabit them, plant vineyards, but not eat the fruit of them." (Isaiah 65:21, contrasted with Zephaniah 1:13)

If you find yourself building relationships but not "inhabiting" them for very long, planting family bonds, sowing into friendships, but not harvesting the fruit of them (many many years later)...I will say this as gently as I can, but someone needs to tell you: you are under some sort of judgement. That is not God's version of normalcy. You need to find out why and fix it.

Don't leave those relationships. Nothing else is worth the wear of winning.

Proverbs 27:10 ~ "Do not forsake your own friend..."

The Adventure of Orienteering

Imagine you are plunked down into the middle of a forest wilderness, and given two choices as to how you will navigate it: you could be given a map and a compass....plus a row of little red flags to follow, each one marking your every step. Or you can be given a compass, and a map with a few significant points marked on it...and that is all. Which would you choose?

Most choose the map and compass and little red flags. And so it is with our relationship to God. What was intended to be the adventure of a lifetime, gets turned into boring, relentless do's and don't's dotting mile after mile a path that we are sure leads us to our destination, but takes no thought, no relationship, no real risk. But we follow those little red flags faithfully, consulting the map and compass without understanding either of them - all while keeping our eyes peeled for the next red flag. We feel so smug about our progress, mistaking our lack of imagination to be personal discipline.

Give me the way of the orienteer, any day. Give me the compass of grace, and the map of the gospel, plus nothing. This is the journey of a lifetime, this one life I have been given! I don't want to be looking for the next red flag, I want to be truly engaging the map and compass...

...and I want to need the others who travel with me.

The way of the red flag requires no effort towards true community. In fact, those little markers encourage dis-unity. If someone offends you, if anyone dare disregard one of the red flags, particularly one you deem important, or should anyone leave the way of the red flags and ask you to continue with them, using only your map and compass - regardless of how much you love them, it is an easy decision, requiring only a few weeks or months to make. You simply part company with them. After all, you have those red flags - who actually needs relationships? You can make this journey on your own if you have to.

All red flaggers are in the powerful position of being able to patronize each other, relying on one another's strength and giftedness only when it suits them, and avoiding the discomfort of setting aside their personal peace and preference. Those who journey with naught but compass and map realize their need for each other, and find themselves setting the individualism of ideals aside in favor of the real, hard-won wisdom that is found in a multitude of counselors, particularly those who have been in this part of the wilderness before and found their way out without the red flags.

There is safety in numbers. Safety is of paramount importance when there is actual adventure, versus simulated adventure.

For the orienteer, it isn't enough to follow the red flags. The orienteer wants to "orient" his whole being towards the destination. He will re-work and re-direct over and over again if necessary. He will get lost along the way, yet he is the truly disciplined one. And he discovers at adventure's end that his entire self - mind, heart, will, body and strength - has been integrated into a healthy whole. The way of the grace-compass and gospel-map absorbed him fully and challenged him relentlessly and changed him completely.

So as various believers come up out of the wilderness, how do you know who is who? How can you tell the red-flaggers from the orienteers?

The orienteers are dirtier. Messier. The red-flaggers are merely a bit bedraggled.

The red flaggers emerge either alone or quarrelling or walking in large-but-tolerably- compatible groupings.

The orienteers emerge together...triumphant, smiling...each one leaning on the arm of another.

My Full, Graced Life

I am a "daughter of God" and a "daughter of Abraham". I share certain spiritual likenesses that come from my spiritual heritage. Coming into this by faith has revolutionized my whole life. Consider Romans 4, beginning with verse 20 ~

"Abraham didn’t tiptoe around God’s promise asking cautiously skeptical questions. (And, by God, neither will I!) He plunged into the promise and came up strong, ready for God, sure that God would make good on what he had said. That’s why it is said, "Abraham was declared fit before God by trusting God to set him right." But it’s not just Abraham; it’s also us (me...Sheila Atchley)! The same thing gets said about us (Sheila) when we embrace and believe the One who brought Jesus to life when the conditions were equally hopeless. The sacrificed Jesus made us fit for God, set us right with God. By entering through faith into what God has always wanted to do for us—set us right with him, make us fit for him—we have it all together with God because of our Master Jesus. And that’s not all: We throw open our doors to God and discover at the same moment that he has already thrown open his door to us. We find ourselves standing where we always hoped we might stand—out in the wide open spaces of God’s grace and glory, standing tall and shouting our praise. "