“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.” Galatians 5:22,23

Who are you becoming?

The answer to this question can be found in revealing where you have been abiding.

Underneath the surface of every living thing are roots tied to something, connecting this living thing to its life-giving source. Where our hearts and minds abide, when no one else is looking, is the source of the fruit we bear both publicly and privately.

While we can’t always see the source, or where a person is abiding, we can judge the wellness and vitality of the source by the condition of the fruit.

What kind of fruit are you bearing?

I’ve had to ask myself this a lot lately. Am I bearing love and joy and peace and patience? Or am I bearing hate and defeat and anxiety and irritability? Is kindness, goodness and faithfulness, gentleness and self-control blossoming out of my life? Or am I, at best, producing counterfeit acts of kindness and harsh answers to my family members? It takes all the maturity I can muster to answer these convicting questions with integrity and honesty. Some days I am not loving. Or patient. Or self-controlled. Or kind.

My fruit is not always so juicy and sweet.

Sour fruit happens when I lose my connectedness to the source of all that is fruitfully pleasant. Bearing rotten fruit is a direct result of a life stretched beyond margin and dependent upon self-sufficiency and pride. Something’s growing, but it’s not sweet. A field can produce a crop, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that the crop is healthy.

Diseased fruit is tied to roots drawing from diseased soil.

“Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in Me.” John 15:4

To produce love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control, we must abide relentlessly with Jesus.

The most supernatural display of a Spirit-filled life is one ripe with the fruit of the Spirit. And this can only come through a deep connectedness with Christ.

To abide is to produce.

Who are you becoming?

To what source are you connected?

Anyone can put on a show of love for a short period of time, but a life that is defined by love, and one that bears all things, is truly hard to find. That kind of fruit is rare.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be a flash-in-the pan type of Christian. I want to bear fruit consistently and for the long haul. In fact, I want the fields of my life to be rich and plentiful, producing a steady harvest of healthy and sustainable produce. But a longing like that may never see its fulfillment if the soil is not managed and maintained.

Maintenance requires discipline. We think spiritual disciplines are so legalistic and outdated. We don’t like to feel constrained to a specific pathway towards spiritual growth. Yet, it is discipline that causes a farmer to wake up early, manage his fields, and spend his daylight hours toiling away, in all manner of conditions, to produce a healthy crop. His discipline reaps a harvest.

How is your fruit?

To what are your roots tied?

Are you abiding by your wits and strong-will to make it all happen? You can’t bear love, true love, without abiding in true Love. And whatever plastic counterfeit-to- the-real thing you are carrying around will not last. Is your produce diseased? Have you tied yourself to a source that mimics good soil, but damages and destroys?

I say this as one who so often needs to check underneath the surface and cut ties to things that distract and contaminate the soil in which God desires to dwell. When the fruit in my life shows up as anxiety and irritability, I recognize that I’ve been falling a bit lazy in my farming disciplines. And yet, even then, God is gracious.

So when our fruit trees are bare, or what we’re producing is far from edible, let us uproot the deadly source, dig deep where the vine is strong and healthy, and hide ourselves in the presence of God’s rich soil.

Who are you becoming?

“For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God.” Colossians 3:3

]]> http://amyeslater.com/?feed=rss2&p=3871 2 http://amyeslater.com/?p=3270 http://amyeslater.com/?p=3270#comments Fri, 12 Jan 2018 21:25:33 +0000 Amy http://amyeslater.com/?p=3270

Confession is good for the soul. That said, I have a confession to make.

I am not a New Year’s resolution maker.

(Gasp!) Is the world still standing?

First, and I say this in the kindest way, most of the time I see people (myself included) set all kinds of well intentioned resolutions on January first, and then plummet into a pit of defeat less than a month later because they just couldn’t quite keep it all together. Real life caves in and smashes the hopes and dreams of the resolution.

Secondly, there is so much pressure and expectation placed on ourselves to achieve and succeed at our goals that we either become a slave to our resolutions, or we simply quit.

Now, before you jump to conclusions and assume that I am a complete slacker, let me add a little clarity.

I’m not anti-goal setting. And I’m not really anti-resolution making. In fact, I tend to set goals for myself throughout the year, as needed. For instance, before the beginning of the school year I usually set a few personal goals for myself, as well as for my family. If something in my life feels out of whack at any point in the year, I try to address it and make the proper changes. While I don’t typically make any type of formal January first commitment, I’m not entirely without purpose.

But this year I decided to try something different, and here is why: There are things that I would really like to implement into my life (disciplines, habits, new challenges), but when I looked at the list as a whole I suddenly became paralyzed. I can’t conquer it all at once. Then my sister gave me a brilliant suggestion of setting a goal for each month – the mini-resolution. Instead of trying to cut out sugar, exercise everyday, journal everyday, go vegan, cut out meat etc., etc. all at once, the goal is to choose one thing to work on each month.

And here’s the long-term benefit of the mini-resolution…what we resolve to do in January, we will be more likely to continue doing in February, March, April…all year long. It takes doing something 20 times (or 20 days) to create a new habit. After having mastered one goal over the course of one month, the hope is that this will have become a new way of living. Achievable goals. It’s really about taking that big list of New Year’s resolutions and breaking them up into 12 bite size resolutions, with the hope and expectation that these new habits will be a new way of living.

Here we are, approximately mid-way through January. If you are like me, and not a hard core resolution maker, it is not too late to set some mini-resolutions. They don’t even have to be earth shattering. Trust me. Every season of life brings on its share of limitations and possibilities. If it makes you feel better, one of my goals for 2017 was to fold and put the laundry away the same day I actually did the laundry. Believe me, this was a necessary and challenging goal.

As you make your monthly resolutions, remember to take it one day at a time. Maybe start with asking God for guidance. Seek him first, and then set your plans. We can do this!

Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and he will establish your plans.

Proverbs 16:3

We are a close family, but…well…not that close.

All silliness aside, it was truly amazing to me how quickly my children bonded with my cousins’ children.  James and Sydney were babies the last time we were together, and since that time, we’ve added a few family members.  Without skipping a beat, our children fell in love (not the romantic kind of love) instantaneously.  They played their hearts out every day in the ocean’s waves and couldn’t wait to see each other the next day.  For almost two weeks, they were inseperable.

Saying goodbye was emotional and bittersweet.  Buckets of tears were shed by all the little ones (and the big ones too…saying goodbye is hard no matter how old you are).  I hate parting ways with those I dearly love, but I am grateful that when we go our separate ways, there is a deep longing in all of us for the next time we will see each other again.  And I am grateful that we have inadvertantly passed that down to our children.

James was Sydney’s first real crush.  They bonded – on their boogie boards, riding waves, and sharing his goggles – the stuff that real romance is made of.  This summer will hold a fond memory for both of them, and as they grow older, they will realize how blessed they are to be family.

When I start to feel the twinge of sadness that missing my family brings, I only have to remember, “On the lips!  On the lips!” and a smile is quick to cross my face.  As my cousin’s wife remarked, “There are places in the south where marrying a second cousin is perfectly normal…but we are not from those parts.”

Amen to that.

The last words out of my mouth as our weary, travelling heads hit the pillows this morning were, “Dear God, please don’t let the kids get up before 10am!” 

They were up at 6:30.

I’ve spent the first three hours of my first morning home paying bills, going through hundreds of e-mails, digging through our cupboards and fridge for breakfast foods that are still edible after two weeks away, and chugging down coffee like water. 

My suitcase is still packed.  Can I just head to the airport and hop on the first plane back to North Carolina?  I called my mom this morning, and they were at the beach.  Post vacation depression has officially set in.  All five of us have shed rivers of tears.  I miss my family back East, Sydney is mourning the end of her first summer crush, and wouldn’t you know it…Portland is gray and drizzly.  Really.  Can I please get back on a plane now?  I’m not kidding.

Vacation is over.  That’s the reality.  I’m slowly working my way back into the saddle again.  Being away, and being unplugged, gave me thousands of minutes to think, process, and reevaluate my life.  Walks on the beach, conversations with my family, and much empty time has given me a fresh perspective that I believe I lacked before.  My core values have not changed, but there are changes to the way I live them out that I want to make. 

One of the changes will be to unplug more frequently.  Amazingly, I had no withdrawals or negative side effects from little internet access.  On the contrary, I found myself liberated and peaceful.  I need more of that. 

And so, I’m going to wrap up my first post-vacation blog post, and get to work on unpacking my suitcase.  There’s a high probability that tears will be shed in the process.   If you think about it…pray for me!

And have no fear…I’ve got a lot of stuff in this head of mine to share with you!  Little by little, it will all leak out.

I’m in a skipping, jumping, life-is-wonderful kind of mood too!  Sunshine is good for the soul.  It burns off the dark, cloudy days and turns the doldrums into a far, distant memory.  Yes.  I’m high on vitamin D this morning.  Can’t you tell?

In honor of our four days in a row of beautiful, sunny, summertime kind of weather, I quickly jotted down a few of my favorite summertime must-haves.  Feel free to add any of your own summer favorites to my list too.

Summer is…

• Sunshine
• Swimming
• Sunscreen SPF 50 (or more appropriately, Sun-paste – that stuff really works!)
• Strawberry Shortcake
• Sleeping in
• Starbucks Frappuccinos
• Sundresses and flip flops
• Sitting outside under the shade of a tree
• Summer reads
• Salads with fresh fruits and veggies

Have I forgotten anything?

Because I don’t want to miss out on any bit of this very beautiful day, I’m going to wrap this up and get off of my computer.  The tree outside my window, reflecting gold and yellow beams of sunlight from its leaves, keeps beckoning me to come outside and play.

And so…I’m off to soak in another beautiful summer day!

Psalm 118:24

This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it!

When I reflect upon all the different kinds of dads out there in this huge and busy world, I always end up coming to the same conclusion: I have, hands down, the best dad.  There is no contest.

You took me on our first Daddy/daughter date on my fifth birthday…and I remember it well today.  We sat at a table by a wall at Bishop’s Family Buffet, and I wore my green velvet Christmas dress.  I felt like such a little lady.  You asked me questions about my life, my thoughts, my hopes, and my five-year-old dreams.  I knew I was precious to you then.

As I grew older, and drove you insane throughout my teenage years, you were a constant source of wisdom and guidance to me.  You came to every violin recital, cheered (loudly and emphatically) at every one of my basketball games (which I know had to be painful to watch seeing that I do not have one athletic bone in this body of mine), attended plays, choir concerts (that lasted for hours), and counseled me through many ups and downs, and believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.  I remember how sad you would get when summer or Christmas or spring break was over, because you genuinely loved hanging out with me and Jen.

In high school, you took time to take me for coffee, ask me about my life, and listened to my hopes and seventeen-year-old dreams.  I knew I was precious to you then.

My early adult years were not such a sweet time for me.  I wrestled with transitions, depression, and burn-out.  When I hit bottom, and it was an ugly one, you saw something beautiful in me.  You supported, encouraged, listened, and prayed.  You sacrificed so much because we, your family, were more important than ministry success or achievement.  You truly exemplified what it means to lay down your life for your family.  What a treasure that was…is…to me.  When I was at my lowest, you and mom came and spent time with me, you held me, you cried with me, and you listened to my twenty-three-year-old hopes and dreams.  I knew I was precious to you then.

The older I get, the more I realize that the kind of father I have is a very rare kind of man.  I still call you just to hear to say, “Amy, it’s all going to work out.”  I still smile when I open up an e-mail from you, knowing that it probably took quite some time to hammer it out with your two index fingers.   I still covet your prayers, respect your insights, and appreciate your valuable words of wisdom. 

And that we can go out for coffee, sit and talk for hours about  life, thoughts, hopes, and my thirty-six-year-old dreams, reminds me that I am, and will always be, precious to you.

Thank you, Dad. 

I love you!

This little factoid just reminded me of a load of towels I washed yesterday.  They are still in the machine.  I will have to run them again, and hopefully, remember to transfer them to the dryer this time.  From start to finish, this could take an hour-and-a-half.  And I want to whine about it.  I want to pout and throw up my hands in surrender because there is so much laundry to do.  All of the time.  Piles and piles of it.

When I was younger, I was certain that I had been born in the wrong era.  I should have been a prairie girl, or a 1920’s flapper, right out of an F. Scott Fitzgerald novel, or part of the Greatest Generation (for sure).  Now that I am older and maybe just a teeny bit wiser, I am convinced that “Laura Ingles Wilder” I am not.  I love my electric washing machine (I love electricity in general).  I love my cell phone and high-speed internet.  I love going to movies, online banking, blue jeans, and my grind & brew coffee maker (hallelujah for my coffee maker!).  I am so appreciative of the modern conveniences I get to enjoy (and fully embrace) on a daily basis.  God made no mistake when he brought this life into the world in 1973.

Sometimes I get restless and critical, worried and depressed when I look at the world I live in.  I can easily get caught up in all the “bad” out there.  Yet, I kind of get the impression that God is still present in all this chaos.  He’s still moving, working, blessing, and redeeming.  He even had the forethought and grace to make sure that the electric washing machine was a standard home appliance for a gal like me.

That the sun so graciously decided to poke its head out of the clouds for a brief moment this morning could quite possibly be the inspiration for this random stream of thought.  Or maybe I just needed to pull myself up out of negativity and remind myself that it could always be worse.  I could have been born in a time when bathrooms were outhouses and mornings were spent milking cows, baking bread, and feeding the chickens. 

Wherever the inspiration came from…I’m just plain thankful today.  And that’s all I’ve got to say.

The Losties (as we have come to know them) were a group of lost souls.  Flying together on Oceanic 815, there was not a free soul among them.  Each led a broken life…inhabiting a body of flesh and bones, but lost deep inside.  The one thing they sought out from this life was the one thing that seemed to elude them: redemption.

And then the crash.

What seemed to be the worst thing in the world that could have happened to them was the one thing that brought healing to their lives.  An answer to their unspoken prayers.  Alone in the real world, drawn together, bound together, strong together in the Lost world.  As the island spoke to each one individually, and specifically, we observed inner transformation.  Slow, painful, and sometimes deadly, the work of the island was not so much to discover what it was, but to discover who they were.

In the end, throughout their alternate lives, as they reawakened so to speak, we saw freedom and joy, not terror and fear.  On the island, there was a great deal of horror, yet the memories they reflect upon are the joys of what they island gave to them.

Sun and Jin – redemption in their relationship…and a baby.

Sawyer – freedom from the past and freedom to love.

Hurley – anointed to lead.

Sayid – atonement for his past, a chance to start anew.

Charlie and Claire – souls destined to be together.

Desmond – the constant that drew them all together both on the island and off the island.

Ben – forgiveness…but still incomplete (he has so much to reckon with).

Locke – freedom from the constraints that bound him.  I love what he said to Jack post-surgery and after his reawakening: “I hope someone does for you what you have done for me.”  Redemption.

Kate – the burden of a life set against her, lifted as she learned to love sacrificially and selflessly.

Jack – redemption.  His entire life was spent saving everyone around him, longing to be set free from himself.  And so it was, in the very last scene, that he could let go.  He found what he spent his whole life looking for…freedom and redemption.

A part of me wishes that more of my questions could be answered.  What happened to Richard Alpert?  What was the Dharma Initiative all about?  What about Ellie and Miles and Daniel and Charlotte and Walt and the polar bears and Room 23???  Perhaps these issues were not addressed because they were only peripheral characters and symbols set around the more significant part of the story-  that being the characters themselves.  Their hope for freedom from the distorted lives they were living, and their search for redemption.

They were lost before they crashed on the island.  The island found them…and they finally found themselves.

Not to over-spiritualize LOST, but isn’t it the hard, painful, and almost deadly seasons of our lives that bring us full circle into the grace and redemption of God?  The Losties had to strive for over half the duration of the series to get off the island, but it was the island that actually healed them.  We fight our island circumstances because they are painful, dark, and overwhelming.  But it is through them that God sets us free, redeems us, and allows us to let go.

Hmmm…just a few thoughts.  What do you think?

I think I moved a few rungs up the ladder of coolness after my family gave me a pair of Uggs for my birthday.  They are divine (as far as a winter foot accessory goes), and I feel slightly glamorous each time I slip them on my feet.  Although, I can’t seem to fight the compulsion to explain that I did not buy them myself (because the thought of paying almost $200 for a pair anything knocks the wind out of me), but they were a gift. 

The only glitch I encountered was figuring out how to wear my brand new, gray Classic Cardy Uggs.  I don’t trust my judgment on matters like these, and the first few times I walked them out the door, I wore them exactly as they came in the box.  I didn’t want to take any chances.  Then, one morning I thought I would be daring, and started playing around with the buttons, thinking perhaps I would wear them straight up the leg instead of folded down around the ankle.  Of course, I had an audience of three – Sydney, Brooklyn and Jackson – who were quick to give me their input and fashion expertise.  “Down!  Wear them down, Mommy!  They look much better down.”  They seemed to agree on one thing for certain, I should wear my Cardy Uggs folded down.  I crinkled my nose, tilted my head and followed their advice (daring, I know).

Later that day I was having dinner with friends, one of which who also received the Classic Cardy Uggs recently as a gift.  Hers were folded down (sigh of relief coming from me).  She is probably on the top of my list of friends with amazing taste and a flair for fashion.  I went ahead and asked her for some Ugg mentoring.  What I learned from this brief coaching moment was that only dorks wear their Cardy Uggs all the way up the calf.  The cool people (and I gotta be cool) wear them with two buttons clasped and folded down (another sigh, and a quick kudos to my girls who saved me from being a dork earlier that morning). 

Thank you to my parents and my sister for my warm, cozy and fashionable Uggs, and to my children for making sure I wore them the way the cool people do.  Where on earth would I be without my family? 

Oh.  I know. 

Uggless and, most definitely, uncool.

This past year, as I wrote a few weeks ago, was somewhat of an unexceptional year.  However, God was still present in it, and I believe will use even the mundane for His glory.  This coming year I look forward to what God has in store.  Whether it be the miracle I’ve been waiting for, or simply the steadiness of His hand in every situation I encounter over the next twelve months.  Above all I expect to look back a year from now and once again see God’s goodness, His providence and His grace. 

So, as the modern translation of “Auld Lang Syne” goes, I will embrace the New Year with a toast to days and times gone by and look ahead with great expectation to the days and times to come. 

And I pray your New Year be blessed too!

For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we’ll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

-Scottish Poem written by Robert Burns in 1788