Gratitude for Miracles {30 Days of Gratitude, In the Middle, FOR the Middle}

(find necklace here)

Maybe the concept of miracles has fallen out of favor - a casualty of  well-meaning but false Benny Hinn spirituality.  "Expect a miracle."  It sounds like something someone with big hair says on television before they ask you to send money.

I want you to hear it as defined by Webster's:  "evidence of Divine power in human affairs".

Better yet, consider this definition:  "a need that meets a solution".

Have we forgotten that this is a broken, fallen world where nothing is really supposed to go right at all?  If anything does go right - it is a miracle.  When a need meets a solution - that is a miracle.  If you are breathing - if you made it home safe and sound from work every day this past week, that is a miracle. When you begin to see miracles this way, you discover that "if grace is an ocean, we're all sinking."

We have been blessed with every good thing we have not earned and do not deserve.

Rhythms of Grace {30 Days of Gratitude, In the Middle, FOR the Middle}

There are, traditionally, three phases of a woman's life:  maiden, mother, and grandmother.  As a woman, times and seasons are etched into my entire awareness.  Biologically, spiritually, and emotionally I am inalterably tethered to cycles and periods and terms and generations of time.

I believe this cyclical nature of mine, though difficult, puts me at a distinct advantage.  My feminine vessel may be "weaker", but the treasure inside is infinitely beautiful.  There is a wisdom gained from distilled years of the courage and stamina that only comes from accepting the waxing and waning of weakness and vigor.  These are the gifts of my femininity, gathered through every cycle, every nine month term,  every birth, and multiplied into my spirit as cycles upheave, falter, flow, and then eventually diminish.

Whether or not we physically bear children, we serve as gatekeeper to the generations.  One way or another, in our bodies we are made perennially aware of life, and the fact that it is brief and precious.

Daughter of God, you are exquisite at every stage of life.  So, so fearfully and wonderfully made.  You carry eternity in your awareness in a way that a man does not.  I long to see women embrace our rhythms instead of resenting them as biological botherments.  Nowhere is it more true that in our weakness, He is made strong.

Gratitude for Boxes {30 Days of Gratitude, In the Middle, FOR the Middle}

One thing for sure characterizes mid-life:  unresolved issues.  The ability to have presence and poise in the midst of the unresolved problems requires a few sturdy boxes.

I'll explain that.

2 Corinthians 4:8 says, "We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair..."

2 Corinthians 6:10 takes it even further, "...(we are) sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; poor, yet making many rich; having nothing, and yet possessing everything..."

In short, every believer in Christ has to learn to coexist with the unresolved - with patience and grace and even (dare I say) joy.  The alternative means that we will only be truly happy when everything is practically nearly perfect.  Even the so-called simple questions rarely have instant answers.  We will be continually confronted with that which is less-than-ideal in life - and sometimes, the less-than-ideal situation can become very, very serious and complicated.  

The only way to get past mere coexisting with the Unresolved - the only way to truly live and thrive in spite of the Unresolved, is to learn to box it up.  Box it all up - large and small.  Put the big stuff into a big box, and put the little stuff into a little box.

Middle-messes must have boxes to keep them from migrating into all areas of your life.  Boxing up an issue means emotionally isolating and containing it, so that it does not negatively affect other precious parts of life.  For example:  one can experience deep disappointment in a prodigal child, without allowing the grief of it to make them lash out at a friend or leave their church or get a divorce.  

A few good sturdy boxes will insure that when three or thirty things are going wildly wrong, those things will not contaminate the one hundred things that are going right.

It's an art.  Boxing things up is a learned skill that becomes an art form.  It can sometimes be the only thing that creates beauty and order, when all of life seems chaos.

I remember, not that long ago, talking to the Preacher.  The conversation was beyond casual.  We were in his truck, headed to Costco for grandbaby snacks and birdseed.  Nothing profound was being said.  Though I should have been able, by then, to have discussed the subject casually,  the topic had a  painful and sensitive background.  I thought I was past a lot of the pain.  Nevertheless...tears, unexpected and unbidden, began to seep from my eyes.  Looking back, I think it was just one of those days.

My Preacher looked at me, truly compassionately, and said, "You need to get in the presence of God and let Him help you get to the bottom of where all this is coming from."  

My answer to him was just this:  "No.  No, I don't.  I need to put all this back in the box, close it up, and write on the box, "GOD KNOWETH".  I don't need to examine and process this.  I need to give it to God - and give it to Him radically.  Someday, I will be able to get this box off the shelf, open it, and I will find that what is in it no longer hurts."

So yeah.  I would make a horrible therapist.  But I can tell you - this is the only thing I can do that actually does require a true faith-response from me.   For me, a capable and compulsive fixer, a mother, a problem-solver...boxing it all up takes audacious faith.  Therefore, it pleases God.  I know it does.

Boxing up your crap may not work for you.  But it works wonders for me.  I believe God is at work on those boxes of mine, bringing healing and freedom and blessing on levels unconscious to me.  I don't have to tend to those unresolved emotions.  I don't have to dissect them or even understand them.  I can simply box them up and let God have them.  Inner healing can happen in those boxes, while I am making art and grilling chicken and loving on grandchildren.  I believe that.

I am grateful for boxes.  They enable me to live my life as a cohesive whole, when otherwise I would be obsessing over some nagging piece of unresolved dilemma.  I can stop thinking about the unresolved parts, and read a book or take a walk or make love or laugh and be happy.  Sometimes boxing up our crap is the only responsible thing to do - the only thing that gives us emotional availability to our lives, and those we love.

Say it with me:  boxes are good.  Boxes are necessary.  Thank you, God, for boxes.

How to Harvest Your Blessings {30 Days of Gratitude, In the Middle, FOR the Middle}

Everywhere I look these days, I see evidence of a great "gathering in".  Piles of pumpkins, heaps of gourds, fragrant apples everywhere.  Even the squirrels in my back yard are fat with the blessing of the harvest, having gathered the acorns that fall in abundance from my neighbor's oak tree.  Three hydrangea bushes are waiting for me to harvest their scores of dried, billowy blossoms for use in my holiday decorating.

But how do you harvest the heart-crop that flowered, then fruited in the unseen inside of you?  How do you gather in what was grown in the soil of the soul?

You harvest with gratitude.  Gratitude is the threshing machine of all things spiritual - it is the mechanism by which we extract both our blessings, and the seed for our next harvest.

Gratitude plucks the great, round gourds of harvested promise.  Gratitude heaps the blessings into piles and piles of joy.  Gratitude gathers the grasses into great bundles, and looks wonderingly across the fields, mound after mound after mound of all God has given...

...in this way, too, "the harvest is plentiful, the laborers are few."  We each one have been abundantly blessed, but we won't know until we gather the blessings in, through the labor of conscious gratitude.

That Day I Was Brave {30 Days of Gratitude, In the Middle, FOR the Middle}

"It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends."


One thing you must know about me:  I am loyal as an old hound dog.  I have no frame of reference for short term relationships.  All my close friendships have been intact all my adult life, and the new friends I have made...well, something in me refuses to imagine them not being my friends forever.  That is how I am wired.


So that day I stood up to my friends, that day I was brave, was no small thing.  It meant losing their friendship.  Somehow, I instinctively knew that and so did my Preacher.  


Nevertheless, I am filled with gratitude for that day I was brave, because it made me who I am today.  

When my Preacher revisited the doctrines of grace almost 5 years ago, believe it or not, he was very nearly a lone voice, at least in our circles.  No one we knew was preaching it quite like he did.  He boldly contrasted living under the law with living under grace.  He asserted, with the great apostle Paul, that the law has been made obsolete, and was no longer a source of blessing or favor.  He called the New Covenant "the bringing of a better hope"...


...the nerve of him, teaching that Scripture at face value.


Then he exposited Galatians, and it was on like Donkey Kong.  


And I picked up my sword (which is the message that the Old Covenant forever points to Christ in the New Covenant, which is the message of the cross, the Finished Work of Christ, who is the Word - the sword - made flesh) and stepped up to the front lines with him.

I said it.  I was brave.  I wrote it just like he preached it.  And what I had to say offended friends - people who called themselves, and we considered them, some of our closest friends.  But my Preacher and I are the dearest of all close friends to each other.  We have never not been a package deal, my Preacher and I.


Obviously, it was far more than just one day that I was brave.  It was a series of days, weeks, and months.  But it began with one day.  It began with one decision to say what I needed to say - to speak the words that brought the "Amen" to the message of the scandalous grace of God.


My story is nothing compared to the stories of Christians around the world, who are living out being brave every single day, at the cost of more than just a cherished friendship.  They confess Christ at the cost of their freedom, their family, and some give their life to the glory of God.  I know that my bravery is cowardice in comparison.


I know that.


But being brave has to start somewhere.  For me, it started with bringing the "Amen" to the Gospel, in the only way I knew how, using the only tools I had.  My words.


I am so vastly...incredibly...profoundly...abundantly...hugely grateful that I was brave.  Not many get the chance like I did, to put what felt like so, so much  - to put it dead on the line, all for the love of Christ Jesus.


I want to see you be brave...

Gratitude for Changing Seasons {30 Days of Gratitude, In the Middle, FOR the Middle}

"Selah" is that Hebrew word you've read many times in the Psalms of David and in the book of Habakkuk. The word appears in the Bible over 70 times. One old theologian even contends that it is one of the many names of God. One thing we do know, this word appears only in poetry - the poetry of song. Most often, it was an indication to change pitch, in order to emphasize what was to come next in the song.

To do this, to change pitch, meant the harpist had to pause long enough to re-tune his harp to a new octave. Generally, it is accepted that "Selah" means to "Pause, and deeply consider".

You and I need to pause. Rest for a moment.  You and I need a new song for this new season. The Lord invites us to stop and acknowledge change, so that He can tune our heart-strings to the next octave. What is on the horizon, what comes next in the song of our lives, means our pitch cannot be the same as it was in the season just past. A change is needed. When God brings new direction, it becomes necessary to sing a new song. Don't rush into the new song, still plunking your harp on the same old octave. It won't work. Instead....Selah.

Stop.  Change songs.  Savor the change.

As I take stock of the year nearly gone by, and the year just ahead, I compare where I am today to where I was a year ago. In many ways, this brings me to my knees because the Mighty God hath done great things for me. In other ways, this contemplation fills me with a terrible ache, because something or someone is missing from my life that was there just one short year ago.

Still. The response is the same. To my knees I go because His name is to be blessed and praised.

Regardless of whether the silence of the Selah brings us joy or pain, let's embrace the coming changes.  This can only be done when we "pause, and deeply consider." The wisdom of God waits in the wings, silently. The thoughts of God are not easily gathered, they are buried treasure. He longs for us to sing a new song to Him, but first He must give us the words and the tune.

A song is not a song without the pauses. This never means that we have to stop the world and get off.  It doesn't mean going off the grid.  It has nothing to do with self sufficient isolation.  That is the human answer to having a quiet heart.  God's answer to having a quiet heart is learning how to pause, ever so briefly, and change our mind and change our tune.  Peace flows when He is in charge of the times and the seasons.

The poem of your life cannot be read properly without small stops, and changes in cadence. The song of your life cannot be sung properly without pauses and changes in flow.  

A life cannot be well lived without the "Selah"....without pausing long enough to change our mind.

Then Sings My Soul {Gratitude for Storms}

The violin is one of the most beautiful sounding instruments of all.  This is due, in large part, to the kind of wood the violin is made of.

Master craftsmen spend weeks and even months searching for special trees above the usual timberline - far, far up the mountainside.  The battering of high winds and the deep snows of winter cause those trees to produce extra resins, giving fibers a tight grain, and even an exquisite perfume.

The intensity of the storms, unlike the more sheltered foothills and valley areas, combined with the austere terrain and cold temperatures, produce a wood that is the toughest in the world...

...and creates one of the most beautiful instruments in the world - the violin.

Not coincidentally, I believe, the violin is the instrument that most resembles the human voice.

We all sing our most beautiful songs after the storms.  We need those storms to even know why it is we sing in the first place.

Without the battering of high winds, and the sting of cold, the only song we can become, is the human equivalent to pop music.