Grown-Up Christmas Lists

My girls love them some Christmas music! I can easily see them growing up into "those people" who start listening to festive tunes in October (no offense intended to any others who number among them!). Well, this year, they discovered the 24/7 Christmas radio station and now that's all they want to listen to when we're in the car. Since it's at least December now, I've largely obliged them, even if it means occasionally having to sit through such holiday classics as WHAM!'s "Last Christmas", Madonna's version of "Santa Baby" or Band Aid's "Do They Know It's Christmas Time?" (good intentions, awfully patronizing lyrics).

The other day, as Ruth and I were on our way downtown, one of the various covers of "My Grown-Up Christmas List" was playing. When I was younger, I always thought the song was rather sappy, but as the years go on, I find it is more likely to bring legitimate tears to my eyes. This year, it brings to mind Aleppo. It reminds me of the little boy we know whose cancer is progressing, despite many medical interventions, and the 6 kids (among others) who will spend this Christmas without their mother. It calls up broken marriages, children who feel rejected by their peers, people stuck outside in the midst of our recent barrage of snow. There is perhaps no time of year where we feel more keenly the strange juxtaposition of joy and brokenness in a single season. Christmas is about rejoicing, yes. We are celebrating the end of the long wait for the promised Messiah to enter our world and bring justice and peace to reign. But at the same time, we are still very much in a period of waiting for the risen Messiah to come a second time and finally do away with all the tyranny that yet remains in this world.

So Ruth and I are on our way to a wedding (rejoicing!) and I'm contemplating grown-up Christmas lists (brokenness), and she asks me what the song is about. I explain to her that little kids ask to get toys and candy for Christmas, but as we get older, it often becomes more important to us to experience true happiness and peace that we don't get by having stuff. Ruth's response was one of those 6-year-old answers that sometimes surprises us parents with its thoughtfulness: "But Santa can't give you those things. Only God can!"

She's completely right, of course, and yet how often do we all, 6-year-olds and 36-year-olds and 96-year-olds included, try to fill our brokenness with material things, with breakable human relationships, with amazing experiences, with feel-good Christmas tunes and dreams of Santa down the chimney? But putting shiny tinsel and lots of coloured balls on a dying tree won't make it any less brown come New Year's.

The older we get, the more we get to Christmas with thoughts of the loved one who won't be joining us anymore, the reminder of people suffering in our churches, our city, and around the world (and maybe in our own home). And it's not wrong for there to be sadness mixed in with the Christmas celebrations. Jesus has come into the midst of this world's brokenness to save us, and that is cause for rejoicing. But His work on earth is not yet finished and if anything, the mixed-up sentiments of this season should cause us all the more to long for His return when He will make all things new and finally cross off all those items on our grown-up Christmas lists.

There's a reason that song has been recorded by dozens of artists. In the season of "Joy To The World" and "Jingle Bells" all the way, requests to Santa for no more lives torn apart and peace on earth and friends for everyone resonate deeply with all of us who've seen and experienced the losses of life on earth. But as you sing along with Amy Grant or Kelly Clarkson or Michael Bublé or whichever version might be playing on your station this time, don't make it a list for Santa. Make it a prayer to the only one with the power to actually bring it to pass, to the one, indeed, who has promised to bring it to pass. And that's not the innocence of youth and blind belief touted in the song. It's faith in what is really and truly true. Amen. Come, Lord, Jesus!

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light;

   Those who live in the land of deep darkness, on them has light shone.

You have multiplied the nation; you have increased its joy;

   They rejoice before you as with joy at the harvest, 

   As they are glad when they divide the spoil.

For the yoke of his burden and the staff for his shoulder,

   The rod of his oppressor, you have broken as on the day of Midian.

For every boot of the tramping warrior in battle tumult

   And every garment rolled in blood

   Will be burned as fuel for the fire.

For to us a child is born, 

   To us a son is given;

And the government shall be upon his shoulder,

   And his name shall be called 

Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,

   Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

Of the increase of his government and of peace

   There will be no end,

On the throne of David and over his kingdom,

   To establish it and to uphold it

With justice and with righteousness 

   From this time forth and forevermore.

The zeal of the LORD of hosts will do this.

Isaiah 9:1-9

The Effective Word

When was the last time your words translated into a direct and perfect action? You know, like the time you said, "Go clean up your toys," and the room transformed immediately into a spotless sanctuary? Or when you commanded winter to be done once-and-for-all and flowers instantly began to sprout from the ground? Or when I said I planned to be back to regular blogging in the fall and well, we all know how that turned out. Okay, so maybe those things are a little unrealistic. But even if we limit effective words to the real world, have you kept your word every time you said you'd make a deadline? Kept every promise made to your kids? Experienced complete obedience to commands given to those under your authority?

Yes, there are times when our words are effective, even seemingly perfectly so. But we are so accustomed to the failure of words, even those with the best of intentions, that it easily distorts our view of God's words. How quick we are to doubt His promises, to hold on to anxiety despite the relentless refrain of His unfailing care for us, to pray the weary prayers of the hopeless instead of the confident prayers of beloved children, or to fail to pray at all, not seeing the point in holding God to His word, assuming Him to be just as unreliable as we sometimes are.

But God's words are not like ours. God says, "Let there be light," and it is so. As Tim Keller points out in his new book on prayer, when we say, "Let's turn on the lights," we still have to take the action of flipping a switch to make our words effective. But God's words and His actions are one and the same. His words are active and powerful in and of themselves. He says, "Let there be sun, moon and stars," and doesn't need to send out a construction team to make it happen.

The voice of the Lord is over the waters;
    the God of glory thunders,
    the Lord, over many waters.

The voice of the Lord is powerful;
    the voice of the Lord is full of majesty.

The voice of the Lord breaks the cedars;

    the Lord breaks the cedars of Lebanon.

He makes Lebanon to skip like a calf,

    and Sirion like a young wild ox.

The voice of the Lord flashes forth flames of fire.

The voice of the Lord shakes the wilderness;

    the Lord shakes the wilderness of Kadesh.

The voice of the Lord makes the deer give birth

    and strips the forests bare,

    and in his temple all cry, “Glory!” (Psalm 29)

God's word goes out and accomplishes the purposes for which He sent it. Every. Last. Time. In fact, if God's words equal His actions, then from the moment He speaks, things are springing up into being, even when we do not perceive it. Yes, God often uses agents to carry out His purposes, but even then, the accomplishment is by His word and not because the agents had any special power in themselves.

And if we really get this, it will change the way we think, the way we pray, the way we live. If God's words and actions are equivalent, then every word of God must prove true. Then when He says that He will not leave or forsake you, it's already done. He says, "I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand," and it is so, whether you are feeling it right now or not. He cries out on the cross that "it is finished" and our sin is fully paid for. Done. No take-backs. He promises that the ends of the earth will be filled with His glory and we can be sure that He is active toward that end at this very moment. This is why we can pray confidently when we are praying God's promises back to Him, because if He said it, it is being fulfilled. And if God's words are God's actions, then we can live confidently, too, fully dependent on his reliable promises to save, uphold, protect, provide, guide and complete in us the good work He has begun. In the face of such truth, there is nothing left to do but to "ascribe to the LORD the glory due his name" and "worship the LORD in the splendour of holiness".

I'm not always as good as my word (so no promises on the timing of future posts!). You're not going to live up to every promise you make. And neither of us can turn on the lights just by opening our mouths. But we have a God who speaks and things are. Will that change how you pray and act today?

Tough Call

Have you ever been called to something exciting and responded enthusiastically with faith, only to encounter difficulty and discouragement? Have you hit hardships in ministry, trials in parenthood, obstacles in your service? If you're anything like us, these things can have a tendency to make you question whether you are where you're supposed to be, whether you heard the call right, whether God has somehow sent you out only to abandon you on the journey. These are the times when I especially love the "real life" nature of the Bible. I'm so thankful that God's words to us aren't just glorious transcendent ideas that are totally detached from our very earthly experience in a fallen world. There are lots of glorious transcendent ideas, to be sure, but they are woven in and out of the true stories of real men and women who lived, who doubted, who praised, who suffered, who were weak, who were strengthened, who by God's grace pressed on despite their sin and failings and the failings of those around them.

One in particular that has been an encouragement to me lately, in a wintry season of tougher ploughing and some discouragements, is the prophet Isaiah. As I mentioned, when the going gets tough, we can fall to the temptation to doubt God's call on our lives, to wonder if we're on the wrong road. But I think that's because we read about people like Isaiah and his glorious call, and we stop too soon in the story. Isaiah 6 is a common passage to quote at missionary commissioning services. There have been songs written about it. Most of us are familiar with verse 8: "And I heard the voice of the Lord saying, 'Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?' Then I said, 'Here am I! Send me.'" We love this response of faith, the enthusiastic "Here am I! Send me." We want to be that guy. Here is Isaiah: He has just seen a vision of God in all his holiness and all his mercy (verses 1-7). He has had his sins atoned for, and is ready at the call of God to go out and take the news of this holy, merciful God to the people. It's exhilarating!

But we stop too soon if we stop there, because we miss what God's call on Isaiah actually is. For the next 5 verses, Isaiah is informed that his ministry is going to be one of tough ploughing, of closed eyes and ears, of proclaiming destruction alongside that proclamation of mercy. Isaiah starts off with a readiness to go out as the Lord's messenger, and the next thing we hear out of his mouth is "How long, O Lord?" The rest of his ministry is replete with hard messages, difficult circumstances and unhearing people. Isaiah even has to give a hard rebuke to one of the most godly kings of Judah when Hezekiah's pride leads him to foolish action. Of course, Isaiah also has the joy of seeing prayers answered, an enemy army decimated in the night at the Lord's hand, a king miraculously healed of a terminal illness, time turned back on its heels, and the honour of being one of the foremost proclaimers of a coming Messiah who would bring salvation, blessing and peace to his people as he rules in glory. But even the most glorious of callings comes with its share of "How long, O Lord" cries. If we forget this when things are dark, and WE'RE the one crying "How long, O Lord?" we're liable to feel like we've somehow wandered off the path of God's will.

Not a Speedbump

A few weeks back we got together for our weekly dinner with Darryl and Charlene Dash, and during the course of the evening, ended up doing an internet personality test for fun. When mine--not surprisingly--came back saying that I thrive on security and stability, Darryl jokingly asked what ever made me want to get involved in church planting. I didn't have a snappy comeback then (apparently, I'm not quick on my feet either). But as it happens, the very next morning our security and stability was tossed to the wind as we received news that we were going to need to move from our condo when the lease is up in April. While not totally a surprise (we had been warned of the possibility a week before), it was certainly not what I originally had in mind for this year. I confess that I had been looking forward to a year devoid of moves and surgeries (still hopeful on that front) and other large changes. A year of relative safety and stability. Hard work, of course, but nothing too unpredictable.

God had other plans.

Casting Widely (Meditations on Ecclesiastes)

"Cast your bread upon the waters,
for you will find it after many days.
Give a portion to seven, or even to eight,
for you know not what disaster may happen on earth.
If the clouds are full of rain,
they empty themselves on the earth,
and if a tree falls to the south or to the north,
in the place where the tree falls, there it will lie.
He who observes the wind will not sow,
and he who regards the clouds will not reap.

As you do not know the way the spirit comes to the bones in the womb of a woman with child, so you do not know the work of God who makes everything. In the morning sow your seed, and at evening withhold not your hand, for you do not know which will prosper, this or that, or whether both alike will be good." (Ecclesiastes 11:1-6)

Are you ever paralyzed by the uncertainties of life? Do you ever wait too long to act because you aren't able to determine an outcome with absolute certainty? Are you afraid to take risks?

If you are the kind of person who has to have all their ducks in a row before they will swim away from shore (I'll be the first to admit to this sort of tendency!), then the author of Ecclesiastes has a message for you (and me): WE DO NOT IN CONTROL THE OUTCOME! Argh... frustrating, I know! But true, nonetheless. All outcomes of all things ever done are ultimately in God's hands, and, as we've already seen, he doesn't generally tell us what is going to happen in advance. Rather, he invites us to trust him, and leave the end up to him. We are to live responsibly, in so far as we CAN see (there are other passages in the book that speak of careful action), but there is a point at which we may fall into the trap Ecclesiastes speaks of here, and spend all our days trying desperately to determine which way the wind is going to blow and whether the clouds are coming, and therefore DOING nothing. And if we sow nothing, there will be nothing to reap. We are called to be a people who live by faith in God's sovereign care, and with such a firm hand holding us up, to accept some amount of risk. After all, we don't know what disaster may occur (under God's full control) that may remove all chances for action.

If we will accept the risk, wisdom has another word for us. Because we are not God and can never know, with 100% certainty, what the end result of any action will be, the wisdom of Ecclesiastes invites us to live life broadly and generously. The wise person will not set all his hopes on one set of actions, hoard all his things in one spot or throw all his energy into making just one disciple. Instead, he will diversify his investments, so to speak. Like the sower in Jesus' parable in Matthew 13, we are called to spread God's word to as many people as possible, because we cannot know who will be hard soil and who will receive it with joy. Like the sower in 2 Corinthians 9, we are called to give generously and freely, though some of our gifts may not prosper, for whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, but whoever sows bountifully will also reap bountifully. Of course, we are mere humans. We do not have infinite seed for sowing, and there are also investment opportunities that are obviously worthless. But within the boundaries of the fields we have been given, with the wisdom God gives us, we are to sow generously, leaving the outcome to the God who reaps where he does not sow and gathers where he scattered no seed.

The other day we were waiting at a stoplight and a panhandler rolled his wheelchair over to our window. Instantly, we start the debate in our minds, "Does it REALLY help him if we give him some change? What if he uses it to buy alcohol or drugs or other harmful things--we don't want to be enablers. And the 50 cents we have on us could probably be used to better effect if given to a good program..." Well yes, there is wisdom in giving with care. We want our money to be used as well as possible. But on the other hand, Ecclesiastes offers a place for not over-thinking everything. Who am I to judge how some stranger will use the money I give (especially when he appears lucid)? Do I need to have such a mental debate over a quarter cup of coffee's worth of change? What if I just decide to sow a little seed on the edges of my field and let trust God with the outcome? There is a place for deep thought and carefulness. But do we also have a place for broad generosity and swiftness in our actions?

Wisdom trusts God and lives actively. And wisdom trusts God and lives generously. For all us wind-searchers and cloud-watchers, Ecclesiastes invites us to take our trust off of our own control and wisdom and to place it where it ultimately belongs: in God's control and in the wisdom of the Holy Spirit that is available to all who ask for it in faith.

Great is His Faithfulness

We're in the early stages of a move right now (hence the lack of posts lately), and I've been taking spare minutes here and there to start the labourious task of going through long-neglected corners and cubbies and culling the contents. It amazes me how much six people can accumulate in the space of 5 short years! Kudos to those of you who've moved after a much longer stretch in one place, because this is bad enough, and I don't even consider myself much of a pack rat!

Of course, the upside of going through closets and files that you haven't touched in years is that you tend to get rewarded with memories--little locks of baby hair from the girl who just turned 9, a love letter from a very smitten boyfriend (now husband of a decade), a cassette tape from my highschool music program that I might listen to if I still had a cassette player... But among all these things, the memories that have been most on my mind since I discovered them in a box a couple weeks ago are in a little packet of cards that once contained large sums of money.

Nathan and I have had few seasons in life where we've had plenty of money to spare. And while I admit that I sometimes envy people who seem to be able to make large purchases without batting an eye, on the whole I really am content to be in the position of just having enough. Maybe it's my upbringing as the daughter of a small-town pastor turned urban church planter. We weren't ever rolling in the dough then either! But when things are tight enough that the car is not allowed to break down and the shoes are going to make it through one last winter or else, there are ample opportunities to experience the blessing of God's visible, miraculous provision (because invariably, the car will break down and those shoes won't last past December). And that little packet of cards are evidence of just that: God's visible, miraculous provision for us. They come from a variety of times over the course of our 10 years of marriage. There's a note that accompanied a brand new dryer when a dear couple in Louisville found out I was hanging all of Susanna's baby clothes up to dry over the shower rod in our little apartment (and another one from the same couple that had grocery money in it). There's an index card from old friends explaining that they'd come into some money and just thought they'd send us some of it (at a time when, unbeknownst to them, we had just lost some furniture in a move). There's a copy of an anonymous cheque for $2000 that was dropped in the offering plate for us when Nathan broke his knee 4 years ago and was out of work (can't wait until heaven when I get to find out who did that!). And that cheque is right alongside another card from that same day that came with another $200, bringing the total to exactly 2 months rent (We found out shortly thereafter that one of our friends had actually been praying for 2 months' rent for us). And there are many, many more! We figure that if we could go back and add it all up, we've been the recipients of unexpected provisions worth over 10 thousand dollars over the last 10 years. God has been so, so faithful to us!

And yet, still we doubt his faithfulness! Even now, in the midst of planning for a move, we are continually tempted to wonder how in the world we are going to get by. We're just like those disciples who had witnessed Jesus' provision again and again, and still wonder how he's going to manage to feed those 5,000 hungry people. And then, after he more than manages, they immediately wonder about this new crowd of 4,000. Where's their food going to come from? God provides for us over and over without fail, and yet we struggle to believe he can do it again. Well, I am here to testify to you, and (maybe even more so) to myself, that God has ALWAYS been faithful to us. There has NEVER been one true need unmet, NEVER been a lack of grace for the trials of the day, NEVER been an abandoning of us in the hour of our weakness. God has already been faithful in filling our greatest need--to be reconciled to him through Christ's death on our behalf. And if he did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness and you needn't worry about lacking food or clothes or any other necessary thing. He feeds the birds; he'll feed us, too. God has been faithful; he will be again.

And yes, he has been again, because just last week, he provided yet another unexpected large sum of money to help finance this move, from a family member who is getting a settlement from a 20-year-long dispute (side note: how amazing that God would allow that to go on for so long, so that just at the right time, we'd get what we need!). Lord, we believe you are faithful; help our unbelief!

This move will be a down-size, so we have a lot to toss, sell and give away. But you'd better believe that little packet of cards will be coming with us. In fact, if I didn't think my two-year-old might rip them to shreds, I'd post them on the fridge for a constant reminder!

All I have needed, his hand has provided. He's always been faithful to me!