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hope is with us – advent 2022

Nov 26th, 2022 by Amy

Hope

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Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.

Proverbs 13:12

Waiting and hoping.

Longing is defined by Merriam Webster as “a strong desire especially for something unattainable”.

Have you ever longed for something important…something significant…something that your heart has been set on for a long time, only to keep on waiting as “unrelenting disappointment” (MSG) continued to break your heart as you kept on waiting?

No results.

No perceived light at the end of the tunnel.

Disappointment can uproot any hope that we have been holding onto.

Year after year, generation after generation, the Israelites waited for the promised Messiah. After four hundred years, I imagine many hearts had either given up hope or felt the great heart sickness of this “unrelenting disappointment”.

Matthew, the first book of the New Testament, opens without fanfare or a dazzling play-by-play of the answer to hundreds of years of prayers. Rather, he opens up his account of Jesus Christ with a genealogy.

This is the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah the son of David, the son of Abraham.

Matthew 1:1

Genealogies were significant. They were a way to legitimize a person, stating “this individual is who they claim to be”. In Matthew’s introduction to his account of Jesus, he starts by connecting Jesus to Abraham and David. Both Abraham and David are significant members of this ancestorial line. Abraham was the father of the nation of Israel and the one to whom God made covenant with. God promised Abraham that, through his offspring, God would pour out his blessing. David was royalty. God made a covenant with David as well- that his offspring would sit on the throne and rule forever.

Matthew points to Abraham, drawing the attention of the readers to the fact that the promise and blessing of Abraham has come through Jesus Christ. Christ was not just another name in a line of generations past; he was the fulfillment of the promise made to Abraham from the conception of a nation.

Matthew points to David, declaring Christ’s royal lineage. Jesus is the heir to David’s throne, and he will reign forever. God’s covenant to David was fulfilled through Jesus. Prophets had foretold the coming of the Messiah. The Israelites were anticipating a king.

While Matthew’s genealogy pointed directly to Christ’s fulfillment of Abraham’s promise and his royal lineage through David, it also did something deeply profound. Matthew highlighted four women: Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Uriah’s wife (Bathsheba). Not only was it something of a wonder to find the names of women included in a male-dominated genealogy, but these women were prostitutes, Gentiles, women wrapped up in scandal.

They were outsiders.

They were the rest of us.

After four hundred years of waiting, Jesus came. He came as King of kings, the promised one of Abraham, and the Hope of all mankind.

Through Matthew’s genealogy, we see that this longing for the Messiah had come. Hope was no longer deferred.

Hope is with us.

Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful.”

Hebrews 10:23

It is easy to get caught up in the mental madness of all the broken promises this world has given to us. As much as we may try to avoid keeping track, our brains somehow hold all the records of all the wrongs we’ve experienced and all the misplaced hopes we’ve pined away for. Some of those losses were a blessing, and we breathe a big sigh of relief. Some of them might still hurt. We hoped, and we waited. Maybe we are still hoping and still waiting. We are walking in that “unrelenting disappointment”.

Misplaced hope always leaves us wanting.

But the hope that holds us…keeps us…strengthens us in the midst of a world that consistently disappoints, is the Hope that came at Christmas. The son of David and the son of Abraham. The promise incarnate. The King of kings. The Messiah for all of us.

The hope we profess is the hope of salvation and redemption…the hope of Jesus. And we know that he is faithful. Matthew’s genealogy legitimizes Christ’s identity. We know that the promise has been fulfilled, and therefore, we know our hope is secure.

Christmas is my favorite time of year. The lights, the music, the ‘butterflies in the tummy’ feeling of anticipation brings me tremendous joy. There is hope everywhere. It is in the eyes of the six-year-old hoping to find that special toy under the Christmas tree. It is in the face of the young woman hoping to grasp her long-awaited joy. It is in the voice of the singer who declares “Joy to the world…”, and it is heard in the heartbeat of our elders, wondering if there truly is hope for mankind.

I love Christmas even more because I know that my hope is grounded in truth. While I may not see clearly, or understand the circumstances around me, the assurance of Christ’s presence gives me tremendous peace.

What- or who- are you hoping in this year?

What does Matthew’s genealogy of Jesus mean to you as you contemplate the hopes deferred in your life?

If you were to hold unswervingly to the Hope that Matthew declares to be the legitimate Messiah and King, how might your perception of your current circumstances change?

What does hope in Christ look like to you?

Hope.

Hope in Jesus…the promise…the King…is a hope that never betrays us. Like a beautiful string of lights that warm up the cold winter landscape, Christ’s presence reminds us that hope in him will light our paths and warm our hearts…even when the world turns a cold shoulder on its promises.

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Posted in 2022, Advent, Christmas, Faith, Hope | 2 Comments »

home

Nov 22nd, 2022 by Amy

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One of my favorite Christmas songs is “I’ll Be Home for Christmas”. One variation of this song begins with this line: “I’m dreaming tonight of a place I love even more than I usually do…”. Every time I hear this, my thoughts are instantly transported to my grandparents’ old farmhouse in Wellston, Ohio at Christmastime. I can see the tree in the corner of the living room, and I can smell my grandmother’s baking in her little farmhouse kitchen. It’s like time stands still for a moment. Christmas at Nanny and Ba’s house- some of the most precious childhood memories I have. It makes me feel homesick, not just for that old house, and my grandma’s baking, and my grandpa’s endless teasing, but homesick for a moment in time that felt warm and cozy and safe. Homesick for a feeling. A feeling of “home.”

The topic of “home” has been a recurring theme in my life over the past few months. Where is home? What is home? Is home a place, an idea, or a feeling? What is it?

If you were my son, Jasper, your connection to home might be family. He had to do a little project for school about all the different kinds of homes there are in the world. We brainstormed, and he came up with a long list of all the various types of homes that are possible: wood homes, stone homes, brick homes, glass homes, ice homes, etc.. His list was long. The next part of the project was to talk about his own home. Once he described what he believed his home was made of – brick and wood – he then went on to explain what he loved about his home- what makes it special to him. Interestingly, he didn’t talk about specific features, but rather, it was his family that made his home so special to him. For Jasper, it was family that defined home, more so than wood and brick.

As a missionary, I often find myself wrestling with this idea of “home.” It feels uncertain because of the unstable nature of this kind of life. I try my best to plant roots and dig in deep wherever I am, but there is always this reality – way back in my mind – that all of this is temporary. Even now, as we look ahead to itineration in approximately six months, “home” is already being disrupted by the anticipation of our upcoming transition.

I was listening to a speaker recently unpack this topic of “home” to a group of fellow missionary women. She shared about a time when she was attending a high school graduation in Nairobi, Kenya. The graduation speaker, who was a third culture kid, asked the question, “What is home?” Later, she answered the question by saying, “God is home.”

This really struck me.

God is home.

Brooklyn and I were out for one of our coffee dates, and she opened up to me about some of the things she’s been processing lately. She is a senior in high school and is looking ahead at a lot of big transitions in her life. Like I mentioned earlier, itineration is just around the corner for our family, but even more startling is the reality that Brooklyn’s transition doesn’t end when she leaves South Africa. She will be in an ongoing state of transition as she begins university in August of next year. For her, this feeling of unsettledness is profound. There is so much uncertainty. And she made a comment to me that nowhere feels like home.

South Africa, while it is her current address, doesn’t feel like home to her. She doesn’t feel as connected to it as she did to our home in Portland, Oregon. And yet, Portland doesn’t feel like home either. It is has changed. Everything that made it “home” to her has completely flipped upside-down, and her connection to a place that would seemingly be home to her feels very foreign.

As we were talking ,two things came to my mind: First, I remembered the message I listened to that encouraged us that “God is home,” and second, thankfully we can say that our “family is home.”

Nothing is constant, except God. And while I am grateful that I have a family that is secure, stable, authentic, and a safe place to land, I realize that rooting myself/ourselves in family can’t always meet that need for “home”, but God can. Because God is constant. When we are rooted in him, we are secure. He keeps us and he holds us. He anchors us when life threatens to blow us over. He is faithful.

I don’t think this concept applies only to missionaries and third-culture kids. I think it is universal to all Christ-followers. How often do we look around at the world, or even the city we live in, and feel so very foreign? How often do we wonder where exactly we fit in? And how many times do we struggle to find a place that feels right and whole and “home?” My guess is that we don’t feel these things very often. Maybe you are fortunate enough to be a part of a body of believers that gives you a living picture of safety and security and fulfills that longing for home. Like my family, it is a place of rest and peace and trust. Or maybe the body you have been connected to has been dysfunctional, and it has disappointed you, and you are thinking to yourself, “Is there really such a thing as a healthy church family?” Regardless, I would guess that many of us, whether in healthy or unhealthy environments, feel very foreign in this world. And those feelings are very valid.

Earth is not our home; Heaven is our home. This is not to say we don’t get planted and rooted where we are, but we do so with the awareness that this is not our forever home.

In Hebrews chapter 11, the writer is drawing our attention to those who trusted and lived by faith, waiting and believing in the promise to come. Even as they passed from this earth, they were still living by faith.

All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country – a heavenly one. Therefore, God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.

Hebrews 11:13-16

Are you longing for a better country? Are you reminiscing about a time gone by that felt warm and secure, but doesn’t exist anymore? Do you feel like a stranger here on earth? If yes, then you are in good company. Those who lived by faith and are acknowledged as those who put faith in action in the Scriptures, also felt those same feelings. This broken world, these dysfunctional systems we try so hard to control, are not our home. God is our home.

And our mandate from Christ is to bring as many other people home as we possibly can. Our purpose is not to live so secluded and insulated that our light grows dim. Our purpose isn’t to create better systems or even to make better leaders. As we live as strangers in this world, our responsibility is to bring people to Christ; to bring them home with God. Making disciples who make disciples. Because God’s home is not for a select few, but we know that he longs for all to come and dwell.

God is our home.

I am so grateful for that promise and assurance today. This Thanksgiving more than any other, this truth feels even more comforting to me.

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the cost of forgiveness

Nov 16th, 2022 by Amy

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Tim Keller likens our typical Christian approach to forgiveness as a type of “therapeutically- motivated culture” of forgiveness. We forgive in order to feel better – to attain inner peace – and so to also ensure forgiveness from God. Without embracing the reality of what forgiveness costs, we tend to take action for personal relief, healing, and mental rest. However, how often do we count the actual cost of forgiveness? Truly? We feel that cost deep, deep down, but we struggle to articulate the negative feelings because it doesn’t always sound Christlike and selfless. It can sound very self-preserving and, perhaps, angry.

Our Christian faith sets us apart from other religions in that we are called to forgive, and to extend love and grace, even in the face of hostility. However, we often fall short in our approach to true forgiveness. We tend to stay on the superficial level of releasing our wounds from others in order to feel better. But that is not the full picture of forgiveness. That is only a part of the process of forgiveness.

In his breakdown of the story of the wicked servant found in the book of Matthew, Tim Keller writes this in his book “Forgive”:

The request by the servant for “patience” – makrothumeo, a Greek word that literally means ‘to be slow to boil or melt’ – hints at the cost of forgiveness. The older English translation for makrothumeo was ‘long-suffering’. Patience is the ability to bear suffering rather than give in to it. To forgive someone’s debt to you is to absorb the debt yourself. If a friend borrows your car, totals it through reckless driving, and hasn’t any ability to remunerate you financially, you may say, “I forgive you,” but the price of the wrong does not evaporate into the air. You either find the money to buy a new car or you go without one. Either way, forgiveness means the cost of the wrong moves from the perpetrator to you, and you bear it.

Forgiveness, then, is a form of voluntary suffering. In forgiving, rather than retaliation, you make a choice to bear the cost.

True forgiveness is bearing the cost.

Jesus’ example to us of bearing the cost is the price he paid on the cross. Forgiveness is identifying with Christ’s sacrifice. We, thankfully, will never know the pain and suffering he experienced as he took on the sin of the world and paid the debt (our debt) of sin and evil. There is no earthly experience, not even the worst we can imagine, that can compare to the experience of Christ’s death on the cross. It was more than the physical act of suffering. It was the separation from God and the weight of sin. It is more than any of us could ever bear, and he voluntarily suffered on our behalf.

Christ is our example.

I find it fascinating that Christ, as he was praying in the Garden of Gethsemane prior to his arrest, requested that God would “take this cup” from him.

“Abba, Father,” he said, “everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.” Mark 14:36

In his human form, he sought some relief from the price to pay. He cried out to God, “everything is possible for you (God, find another way to do this), please take it away.” But then he committed his will to God and stated, “Not my will, but yours be done.”

What this says to me is that when we feel that pang of hurt, grief, and hesitation to forgive the one who has wronged us, we are not feeling bad or non-Christian-like feelings. We are feeling very real and normal feelings. Who truly relishes in voluntary suffering?

And yet…in spite of the cost, Christ submitted himself to the will of God. Quite bluntly, if we want to follow after Christ- to identify with him in every way- then we, too, must surrender. We must choose to suffer and bear the cost.

This, I believe, is why forgiveness – true forgiveness – is so hard. I recognize this process is often missing in our Christian worldview. We seek, as even the world does, for inner healing and the personal satisfaction that comes from “letting go”, but there comes a point when this kind of forgiveness just isn’t enough or isn’t working for us anymore. We are seeing the ramifications of this approach in our world today. It is not enough to simply say “forgive and let go.” I believe this is due to the fact that that cost must be counted. We must allow ourselves permission to identify and accept what forgiveness is costing us.

But if we stop here we are still cutting the process of forgiveness short. There is more. We must look upward. We must look to Jesus.

It is when we do this that we also recognize forgiveness cannot take place without the supernatural grace extended to us through Jesus Christ. We cannot bear the cost without that. We are too human and too selfish. True forgiveness requires both the recognition of the cost and the dependence upon Christ’s supernatural empowerment to then bear the cost.

For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God. The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.”

The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children. Now if we are children, then we are heirs – heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory.

Romans 8:14-17

When we choose this voluntary suffering, we are sharing in Christ’s sufferings. Much of the work is internal as we choose to release our pain and our hurt into the hands of Jesus. And oftentimes this internal work is never known. Not very often do we see the kind of justice that we would prefer. We do this act of forgiving without fanfare and without a cheering squad. But we are not alone; Christ is with us, and he is holding us.

This is not to say that justice should be neglected. But the pursuit of justice without true forgiveness often becomes retaliation, and that should never be our motive.  We need clear discernment between the two.

To conclude my thoughts on the cost of forgiveness, I just want to add one thing. When we truly grasp the depth of Christ’s love for us when he chose to suffer on the cross for the redemption and forgiveness of mankind, it is difficult to stand in our justification of withholding forgiveness from others. I am not excusing the acts done against any person or persons, but I can only speak personally; when I encounter this transformative power of grace, love and forgiveness from God, there is nothing left in me but incredible awe and fear. Not terror or anxiety, but amazement at God’s goodness to me. And, from that goodness, I find my heart more inclined to forgive. It is a process, for sure, but a process that draws us closer to the heart of God, and deeper in identifying with his suffering. This is precious to me.

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I am deeply grateful for the price that Christ paid for the forgiveness of my sins. Where I fail, he brings redemption. Where I fall short, he fills in the gaps. And I am thankful for the example he set for me.

While the price of forgiveness almost seems too high at times, he showed us how to do it. And he promises his grace to see us through.

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at the proper time

Nov 8th, 2022 by Amy

At the proper time

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Jasper struggles with the concept of time. It is too abstract for him. This challenge is most noticeable when it comes to meals and snacks. He can sit down for breakfast, eat a bowl of oatmeal and fruit, walk away from the table, and five minutes later come to me ready for snack time. I have learned that setting a timer between activities in our morning, afternoon and evening routines helps – to some degree – with keeping him from eating us out of house and home. It also gives him small increments of time to process rather than big chunks of time.

If we didn’t have a schedule, and if there was no structure in our home, Jasper would easily eat his way through the day. He knows he gets to eat five times during the day, but what he cannot seem to put together in his mind is that there is a proper time for each of those meals. And we, his family, will take care to ensure that he is fed at breakfast, lunch and dinner, and the snacks in between. Jasper resists this regularly, but the timer gives him the security that the next mealtime is coming. Jasper’s eye is on the timer and on me. He is waiting, and anticipating, because he knows that as soon as the ring of the timer goes off, I will give him his food.

The eyes of all look to you, and you give them their food at the proper time. You open your hand and satisfy the desires of every living thing.

Psalm 145:15,16

At the proper time.

A couple of things that I find comforting and encouraging in this verse is that there is a proper time for God’s provision, and he satisfies our desires.

Time is an abstract concept, and Jasper wrestles with comprehending the difference between five minutes and five hours. They are the same in his mind. He gets frustrated much the same way you and I get frustrated when it seems that God’s timing doesn’t make sense. His delays feel like no’s, five minutes feels like five hours, and we want to argue and negotiate our will into God’s heart. But he knows the proper time.

The eyes of all look to you…

What if we were to stop fighting for our time and our way and began to look to Jesus – to set our gaze upon him? Not just today, but tomorrow, and the day after that? What if we were to wait with our eyes on the one who is our Provider and rest knowing that the proper time is coming?

I think we might find more of that peace and rest we are so often longing for. I think that the deep internal work of keeping our eyes on Jesus would shift the trajectory of our desires and our expectation of the outcome.

…and you give them their food at the proper time.

Joel and I would never let Jasper starve. While we don’t give him food on demand, we do provide meals and snacks for him…at the proper time. If he leaves the dinner table hungry it is not because there has been a shortage of food. We supply everything he needs for each and every meal, and it is available to him at the proper time.

God will never forsake us or starve us. He may not give us what we ask for right away, but we can be confident that he will provide for us at the proper time. We can find peace, confidence and assurance in that promise. He knows our needs, and he knows our hearts. He cares for us like a parent cares for a child. He loves us.

You open your hand and satisfy the desires of every living thing.

At the proper time God’s hand opens up and graciously satisfies the desires of every living thing.

But here is the thing about desire…

Our desires reveal the intentions of our hearts. Our hearts could be surrendered to God and our desires in alignment with his character, but they may also be clouded with self-seeking ambitions and pride.

Merriam Webster defines desire as: “to long or hope for: to express a wish for”.

We are not always the most impartial when it comes to discerning the true motivations of our hearts. We have to honestly ask ourselves, is what I am longing for, or wishing for, truly God’s best for me? Is this desire in alignment with God’s heart?

It is during that period of waiting on God, keeping our eyes on our Provider, that something incredible happens inside of us. Our hearts become more connected to God’s heart. Our dreams become more focused, and clear, and our desires begin to take on the form of God’s desires. We shed the self-seeking, self-gratifying parts of our wants and start coming into alignment with God’s wants and God’s desires.

I am grateful for the assurance that God is aware of me and that he is prepared to feed me and provide for me. I am thankful for a loving Father whose hand holds what I need, and that he promises to satisfy my desires. Even in the seasons of waiting, I can trust that God is working internally and externally on my behalf, and all that is required of me is to keep my eyes on Him.

That is something to be thankful for.

God is faithful and good…and he satisfies our desires…

At the proper time.

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winter is for rest

Oct 31st, 2022 by Amy

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I’m grateful.

The beauty of painful seasons and hard things is the gratitude that blossoms in the middle of the chaos.

We don’t see it immediately, or even perhaps feel it, but if our hearts are open and tender and expecting, thankfulness will push its way to the surface at its proper time.

Winter soil is barren, hard, and cold. We don’t see all of the activity going on below the layer of frozen fields and dusty, dry ground. Just like a farmer looking out on a field of nothingness, it seems that, when we look inside, there is an internal void when we’ve hit a hard winter.

We typically use words like “dead” or “barren” when referring to winter.

But what if we were to reframe the way in which we see our winter seasons – how we would describe them?

Instead of looking at winter as a time of death and barrenness- which may be the case as often things do die and there are very few signs of life on the surface- perhaps we can try and view this wilderness time differently? Rather than lifeless, what if we shifted toward a perspective of rest?

Elijah, when he was running from Jezebel, was despondent. He was at his very lowest. Depressed, overwhelmed, weary and burned out, Elijah ran until his body quit on him. He had nothing left. All around him, it looked like a dark winter season. After seeing God do the miraculous, it is difficult to understand this angst. And yet, his despair was unquestionable.

What was God’s response? How did God engage Elijah at this very moment in his life?

Did he chastise him and tell him to get back up on his feet? Did he rebuke him for running away? Did God try to get him worked up into a frenzy with a big “you can do it” speech? Did God ignore or marginalize Elijah?

No.

Rather, like a tender parent to a hurting child, God nurtured and cared for Elijah.

He came to a broom bush, sat down under it and prayed that he might die. “I have had enough, Lord,” he said. “Take my life; I am no better than my ancestors.” Then he lay down under the bush and fell asleep.

All at once an angel touched him and said, “Get up and eat.” He looked around, and there by his head was some bread baked over hot coals, and a jar of water. He ate and drank and then lay down again.

The angel of the Lord came back a second time and touched him and said, “Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you.” So he got up and ate and drank.

1 Kings 19:3-8

God fed him. He provided water to drink, and he gave him the gift of sweet sleep. He even sent an angel to care for him. Elijah ate, drank, and slept. The mercy that God extended to Elijah is the same mercy I believe he extends to us when we are in the darkness of a winter season.

Winter seasons are seasons of rest if we allow ourselves to receive it. If we can surrender to the rest, I believe we will find the peace, the resilience…and the gratitude…to move forward.

This is so contradictory to our way of living. We are pushers. We charge straight through in spite of our exhaustion. And when we hit that heaviness of depression or grief or disillusionment, we either hide it away so no one can see it, or we expose ourselves and risk marginalization. We don’t often show each other the kind of grace that God extended to Elijah. We care more about results than the person. Perhaps we fear our own winter seasons are coming, and it drives us to run away…to isolate…to push hard and farther.

But…

God is so gracious.

It is his grace and mercy through these harsh winters that brings me tremendous gratitude.

Simplistically explained, even in its most vulnerable stage of development, a tiny seed germinates into a sprout. The germination process is all done underground, hard at work to produce that initial sign of life.

Underneath the surface of our painful and hard seasons is a process of germination that will eventually produce a sprout. Winter is for rest. While we rest, God is feeding us and providing water for us to drink. We eat, drink, and sleep, and God does the work.

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So he got up and ate and drank. Strengthened by that food, he traveled forty days and forty nights until he reached Horeb, the mountain of God.

1 Kings 19:8

God’s provision of rest and nourishment when we are in those broken and barren seasons gives us the strength to make the next journey and to take the next step forward. After Elijah had rested, and after he had sufficiently been fed and his thirst quenched, he was strong enough for a forty-day and forty-night journey to the mountain of God. I find this nothing short of a beautiful illustration of how sufficient God’s provision and his care is for us. Seasons of rest are not the end of the story. In fact, seasons of rest…those winters in our lives…are the precursor for hearing God’s voice…for approaching the mountain of God. We are not prepared for that next step until we have adequately rested in God’s grace and mercy.

I’m grateful.

Joel and I have been walking through a winter season. It has felt like a long one, too. Typically, we get to enjoy the beauty of fall as the seasons change, but ours has felt more like a swift jump from summer sunshine to the bitter cold of winter, with no pretty foliage to prepare us in between. And while we’ve asked God a number of times “why?”, we are slowly beginning to see that God is even here in the winter. That maybe he is calling us to rest. That perhaps this time is an opportunity to receive his grace and his mercy. I don’t love hard seasons. I’m not crazy. But the older I get, the more I am recognizing that it is through these hard seasons that we encounter God in a deeper and more meaningful way.

This season is producing the small and tender sprouts of thankfulness in our lives.  Thankful, not for pain and hurt and disappointment, but thankful for God’s presence and faithfulness through the pain and hurt and disappointment.

Winter is for rest.

And my heart is overwhelmed with gratitude…for God’s precious hand…for his mercy and grace.

The Lord is faithful to all his promises and loving toward all he has made. The Lord upholds all those who fall and lifts up all who are bowed down. The eyes of all look to you, and you give them their food at the proper time. You open your hand and satisfy the desires of every living thing.

Psalm 145:13-15

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God sheds light

Oct 26th, 2022 by Amy

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“Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” John 8:32

God sheds light.

In John chapter 8, Jesus is having a conversation with a group of Jews. They are struggling to comprehend what Jesus is trying to communicate to them, that if they believe in him, the truth will be clear to them because he is the Son of God, sent by the Father. Freedom will come through trust and faith in Christ. But they are wrestling with it. They seem to be steeped in, and blinded by, darkness.

He says: “If you hold to my teaching (teaching that comes directly from God) you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” John 8:31, 32

What this tells me is that if we hold on to the teachings of Christ, if we align ourselves to the Scriptures, if we make that our pursuit and passion, then we are true followers- disciples- of Christ. He calls us his disciples. And through that act of following and obeying, we will know the truth, and the truth will set us free.

The greatest way for us to walk in the light – in freedom – is to walk in step with the Word of God. This requires effort on our part to abide regularly with Christ, and to allow his Word to dictate and direct our path. The minute something begins to bring that all-to-familiar unsettling feeling, we can lean in harder to Jesus and his Word. He always brings clarity.

Psalm 119:105 says: “Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light for my path.”

The Message version says it this way:

“By your words I can see where I’m going; they throw a beam of light on my dark path. I’ve committed myself and I’ll never turn back from living by your righteous order. Everything’s falling apart on me, God; put me together again with your Word.”

“Put me together again with your Word.”

I love that.

When we’ve been through the dark places, when we find ourselves stumbling about in confusion, ambiguity, and brokenness, it is the truth that will shed light and bring freedom. It is always and forever the Word of God that will put us back together again.

When we are falling apart. When we are swimming in grief. We can lean hard into God’s word, conforming our lives to Him and His heart.

There is no guarantee that you and I will never encounter dark and painful seasons. I wish that wasn’t so, but we live in a dark and broken world. The good news is that we do not need to fear it or succumb to it. We can engage the darkness with grace and truth.

Where there is darkness, God sheds light.

Where God is, there is his light.

We can walk in the light.

We can walk in his truth.

And when it seems like we are falling apart we can call out to God who’s word will put us together again.

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to the mom with a child on the autism spectrum

Oct 6th, 2022 by Amy

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Dear Mom of a child who is on the autism spectrum…I just want to say something to you today.

Whether you are on the back-and-forth pendulum swinging from grief to relief with a brand new diagnosis, or if you are still wondering – somewhere in the back of your mind – if there is something more going on with your child outside of the “normal” development milestones…or if you have been wading through all of the highs and lows – the emotionally stressful and the long-awaited win – today I am thinking about you.

I wish we could sit together. Maybe in silence (because silence is oh, so rare in our daily lives). We might have some coffee (or tea, if that’s your preference), eat something super yummy, and possibly scroll through funny memes in order to take our minds off of the heaviness that we so often carry. But most importantly, if you and I could sit together for a bit, if it were for nothing else than just a chance to be with someone who “knows”, I wish we could have that moment of sitting in the “knowing” together.

I have been the bearer of scrutinizing looks, eye rolls, judgmental statements (you know, it baffles me that people actually feel inclined to make a comment to a total stranger, but for some reason they do), and the irritated scowl. In those moments, I have to admit, it really stings. Then I have to move on because Jasper demands my focus, and I can’t waste my time, internally or externally, justifying his behavior. I have to let it go. I have to remind myself that I will, likely, never see some of these individuals ever again, and I have to shake it off.

There is nothing more demoralizing than constantly feeling like you have to explain why your child is still wearing diapers at 5-years-old, or why he is unraveling over something so inconsequential, or why it does no good to come down hard on him when he begins to act out, or why he only eats 5 different foods, or why he’s starting yell because your sweet baby is crying, or why he never stops moving on the airplane and wants to pull down and put back up his tray table over and over again, or why he won’t look at you when you are trying to talk to him, or why I choose which battles I am going to fight extremely carefully, or why I let him have dessert at a restaurant even if he hasn’t finished his food, or why he doesn’t have to stay in his seat for the whole dinnertime, or why I don’t press him to wear a mask, or why he talks over his peers and will not give eye-contact, or why I won’t attend every single event that we get invited to. There is a story and a purpose and reason behind every one of these. And, fellow mom of a child who is on the autism spectrum, what is so incredibly comforting is knowing that you just “know”.

So, here is what I want to tell you – that I so wish we could sit together and do some interactive telling and encouraging with one other -

This child…

These slow down days and deliberate choices…

The non-rat race life with this little boy, or little girl…

This journey of learning and being stretched and refined…

Is a gift.

I have fought so often with thoughts like…

“I wish he was normal!” Or “I am at the end of my emotional rope.” Or “I feel like I’m missing out on something because I’m still way back at the starting blocks with this kid.”

And yet…

This slow down…

This celebration of the little wins along the way…

This life of keen intentionality…

Is a gift.

It’s hard. I know.

But just as you are raising this precious child in the very best way you can, God is raising you.

He is gifting you with treasures like real empathy, true compassion, a non-judgmental spirit, long-suffering, genuine concern with a soft heart and tough skin.

He is working in you, even today, right in this very moment, and that is a gift.

I’m grateful for the countless individuals in my life who have been a tremendous support system for us this past year. I remember talking to another mom, and friend, all the way in Japan – Japan – when we were in the early stages of discovery with Jasper. She never promised to have all the answers, but she listened and encouraged…she “knew”.

From Indiana to Oregon to various countries around the globe, God has gifted me with educators and parents and specialists who have walked alongside me and Joel…who have held us up and let us just “be”.

Jaspers’ diagnosis was a hard cup to swallow, but the gifts that have come through this journey are gifts I would never want to miss out on.

Mom of a child who is on the autism spectrum…I know it may not feel like it right now…this minute…or even tomorrow…but

This child…

Is a gift.

And if you ever need to be around someone who “knows”, please reach out to me.

I would love to sit with you.

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Posted in 2022, Faith, Grace, Hope, Joy, Life, Motherhood, Trust | 1 Comment »

Good Friday is not the end

Apr 14th, 2022 by Amy

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He didn’t defend himself.

He didn’t try to justify his cause or prove his innocence.

He stood there…silent…like a lamb to the slaughter.

When offered the opportunity to speak into the situation and right the wrongs…clarify his position…he chose to stand in quiet strength.

Pilate, so arrogant in his authoritative role…his title…believed that he held the power of life and death in his hands:

“When Pilate heard this, he was even more afraid, and he went back inside the palace. ‘Where do you come from?’ he asked Jesus, but Jesus gave him no answer. ‘Do you refuse to speak to me?’ Pilate said. ‘Don’t you realize I have power either to free you or to crucify you?’” John 19:8-10

Jesus’ response spoke of who had, and continues to have, the true authority:

“Jesus answered, ‘You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above.’” John 19:11

Think about that.

Facing his accusers…standing before one who held human power and authority, Jesus did not surrender his identity. He stood firm in his position and made it clear that the only power Pilate had was given to him by God, and at any moment God could take it away. This statement solidified God’s control overall.

“He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth.”  Isaiah 53:7

By whose authority do you stand?

In what situation do you find yourself in that demands a statement…some sort of justification or defense?

Have you been accused?

Are you shackled with a heavy and unjust weight?

Are your circumstances beyond what you can bear? Are you weary, worn, pushed to your limit?

In whose hands are you resting?

Who holds the power over life (freedom) and death (captivity) in your situation?

When Jesus responded by saying, “You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above”, it wasn’t just a statement directed to Pilate regarding this particular moment in time. It was a declaration that nothing – not one single thing – that happens in this life has power outside of God’s authority.

What this tells me is that whatever circumstances we find ourselves in that cause our hearts to faint and our souls to cry for help, we can stand in assurance and confidence that God stands with us and for us and has the final say.

No earthly vessel has power over us…God’s power determines time, the duration, and the outcome. No sickness, no false accusation, no affliction or loss is outside of God’s sovereignty. He reigns over everything.

He is King over sickness.

He is Lord over every false accusation.

He is Mighty over each sting of affliction and devastating loss.

The silence of Christ…his weary body beaten in humility…seemed to declare nothing of victory…nothing of Lordship.

When it seemed that darkness had won…that death had conquered…Christ’s humble response declaring God’s power and authority was, and remains, the hope that we cling to.

Good Friday was not the end.

Christ standing before Pilate…the angry crowds crying out for his death…the beating and the insults…the cross…his death.

It was not the end.

This is not the end.

Your unimaginable situation…the heaviness you bear…is not the end.

While the world may appear to hold the power of life and death over you…

Remember…it is merely borrowed power.

Good Friday is not the end.

“After the suffering of his soul, he will see the light of life and be satisfied; by his knowledge my righteous servant will justify many, and he will bear their iniquities. Therefore, I will give him a portion among the great, and he will divide the spoils with the strong, because he poured out his life unto death, and was numbered with the transgressors. For he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.”

Isaiah 53:11,12

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bruised for us

Apr 11th, 2022 by Amy

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It is Holy Week.

I woke up this morning feeling heavy…weighted down.

A sorrow and grief that has been nagging at me seemed to surface in my heart before I even got out of bed.

I felt like God was so far away.

“Where are you, God?”

Have you felt that way before? Have you ever found yourself wondering and wandering in God’s silence?

The rain, pouring down heavy on our roof and drenching every nook and cranny of our city, seemed to echo the heaviness in my heart this morning.

For some odd reason, it seems to make me more attune to the solemnity of this Holy Week.

Surely He has borne our griefs
And carried our sorrows;
Yet we esteemed Him stricken,
Smitten by God, and afflicted.
But He was wounded for our transgressions,
He was bruised for our iniquities;
The chastisement for our peace was upon Him,
And by His stripes we are healed.
All we like sheep have gone astray;
We have turned, every one, to his own way;
And the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.

Isaiah 53:4-6

Surely, He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows…

Jesus…the weight of the cross…the splintering edge of the wood as it rested on his flesh…bore my grief…carried my sorrows.

He was bruised – crushed – for our iniquities.

I am trying to fathom the depth of such love. All my wrongdoings…my sins…the intentional and unintentional times I fail…for all of those, he was bruised.

Yet it pleased the Lord to bruise Him;
He has put Him to grief.

Isaiah 53:10

It pleased the Lord to bruise Him.

It pleased the Lord.

God did not spare his son.

He was not pleased to see his son suffer, but he was pleased knowing that, through Christ’s sacrifice, the world would know salvation and reconciliation with God.

What strikes me so profoundly is that the weariness I am feeling today…the weightiness of this grief…was carried by Christ as he walked to his death.

The sorrows that I feel…that we feel…were on his mind in every step and every harsh beating that he took.

And Jesus knows, and is acquainted with, the silence of God.

In the heaviness, there is comfort.

In the weariness, there is strength.

In the uncertainty and disappointment, there is hope.

In the grief, there is peace.

He knows our sorrows…he has already carried them.

He knows our pain…he has already felt it.

He knows right where we are…what we are facing…the challenges that are in our hands and the ones coming…he has gone before us.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also abounds through Christ. Now if we are afflicted, it is for your consolation and salvation, which is effective for enduring the same sufferings which we also suffer. Or if we are comforted, it is for your consolation and salvation. And our hope for you is steadfast, because we know that as you are partakers of the sufferings, so also you will partake of the consolation.

2 Corinthians 1:3-7

Holy Week.

As I walk through this week…still keenly aware of the weariness of my heart…I walk in Christ’s comfort.

You, as well, may walk in the comfort of the One who was bruised for the very heartache you are feeling right now.

There is no suffering that Christ cannot console.

He has felt every wound and the sting of every pain…every disappointment and every hard and heavy step.

This week leads us to the greatest moment the world has ever known…the hope we have…the reason for our very being.

Redemption…salvation…hope and renewal.

Holy Week reminds us to keep our eyes looking upward…to keep our hearts turned towards him…the One who was bruised for us.

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we will not fear

Mar 23rd, 2022 by Amy

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“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging.” Psalms 46:1-3

Trouble comes.

It is inevitable.

On this earth, through these earthly vessels, trouble will enter into our lives.

So much so that we can feel the mountains quake and hear the oceans roar.

Be we do not fear.

The Psalmist says, “we will not fear”.

He doesn’t say, “we don’t need to fear,” or “do not fear”, or “stop fearing”.

He says, “we will not fear”.

When the earth gives way…when our world is shaken to its core and our hearts tremble as the ocean surges…we do not fear.

Because God is our refuge and strength.

We hide in his shadow.

He sustains us and strengthens us.

We are not abandoned to fear and dismay and discouragement and hostility.

We are on solid ground.

He is our ever-present (constant and ongoing) help in times of trouble.

There is no question and no doubt in God’s presence and his strength.

Surrounded by trouble, we are secure.

“The Lord Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.” Psalms 46:11

What great assurance!

What peace of mind!

God is with us…he is our fortress.

Trouble will come, but we will not fear.

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