Who's Watching?

So often we judge success by how many people are watching.

Television shows are taken off the air if there aren't enough viewers. University classes are cancelled if there aren't enough students to make a profit. Some celebrities demand a certain sized audience before they will consider coming to a venue. We can make judgments on how "popular" people are based on the amount of Facebook friends they have.

Several years ago I was visiting someone in a Catholic hospital in the U.S. Each time that I visited I passed by a cute little chapel that was there for the patients. Each time I passed by it was empty. I felt sad that no one was using this sacred space, and felt sorry for the priest who I imagined had to cancel Mass if no one came.

I was wrong.

Several months later I found out from a pastor friend that even when a congregation is absent, a priest, often along with an altar server, still conducts Mass. The reasoning being that a priest is never entirely alone. There's always a host of angels standing in honor of their Lord and God.

Whoa. I suddenly felt so shallow.

In my focus on earthly facts and figures, I had completely forgotten about the bigger reality of the Kingdom of Heaven.

It's a Kingdom where many times our most important actions take place when there aren't earthly throngs cheering us on. Maybe it's choosing to forgive someone who has wronged you; refusing to gossip; helping someone who could never return the the favor. Sometimes the biggest triumph is simply continuing to move forward and staying true to where God called you even when it feels you aren't making a difference.

It's in those deep private places when life stops being a performance and becomes an offering to God.

Just like the hospital priest knew, it's an offering that God and all of heaven witnesses.


Hebrews 12:1-3: "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, 2 fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. 3 Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."

The Beginning of the Beginning

I'm trying to find my new normal.

I've just returned home after being gone a month to be with my mom in the final weeks of her life. It's going to take me some time to process all that happened in this intense but precious time. There were things I experienced as I watched my mother's life fade away that I still don't understand but I know something important has been deposited in me. Things aren't tied up neatly in a bow, but the main emotion that I am left with is awe.

Here's what I shared about my experience at mom's memorial service.

My Mom was a strong woman.

She had a strong will and a strong faith in God. When she found out she had cancer, she had a strong desire to live and believed God for her healing. And after a complete round of chemo treatments, she did seem to beat her cancer for a time, but then it came back and this time it didn’t respond well to chemo.

During this time I tried to pray prayers of faith for her healing but it felt like they fell flat. I asked God “What are you doing?” In my mind’s eye I saw a picture of my Mom. She was a radiant bride walking down the aisle and her face shone with light. I knew in my spirit she was walking down the aisle to Jesus, the Bridegroom. This image gave me a sense that mom’s struggle with cancer would no doubt bring her closer to Jesus but I knew it also could potentially mean that this was a path that would ultimately take her to heaven with Jesus.

From that point I adjusted my prayers to pray that not one day ordained for my mom’s life would be stolen from her and that every day she would grow closer to Jesus.

I had the honor of being with Mom and observing the last steps of her earthly journey during her two and a half weeks in hospice after she suffered a stroke.

During this time I witnessed the clash of my mom’s will to live with the reality that she was in the process of dying. This showed up in what is called terminal agitation. My mom would doze for 20-30 seconds and then startle awake looking around at her strange surroundings. A hospice nurse explained agitation to me like this: We all say we look forward to seeing our loved ones in heaven, but if you knew that you were dying right now you would probably freak out.

I imagined myself having amazing conversations with mom about heaven, but that wasn’t happening. She resisted talking about heaven because she wasn’t ready to die.

That changed on December 12. Mom was in a lot of pain that day and moaned and fidgeted a lot. In the afternoon she moaned a bit and I asked if she was hurting, and she said “It’s spectacular.” I thought maybe she was a little loopy so I asked her what was spectacular. She said, “The sounds of heaven.” I was in awe and I watched her over the next hour or so writhe in pain while she also struggled to speak about the preview God was giving her of her future home in glory.

From that day on, her gaze changed. She was focused on Jesus. She didn’t speak much after that afternoon. Even though her spirit was set on Jesus, her little body fought and fidgeted on.

A good friend of my mom and dad visited one afternoon near the end of her life and read a Scripture that gave great perspective. It was 2 Corinthians 4:16 – 18.

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. 17 For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, 18 as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.

As my mom’s body grew weaker each day, this Scripture helped me realize that I was witnessing my mother’s process of becoming more and more eternal until she eventually stepped into heaven on December 17.

I am forever changed by the experience.

Consensual Union

Yes is a powerful word. Especially when it's a response to God.

This Christmas season I've been contemplating the role that Mary played in the birth of Jesus. A Bible verse started my musings, but not a traditional Christmas verse. This verse goes all the way back to the beginning -- all the way back to the Garden of Eden.


The verse is Genesis 3:15 where God is cursing the serpent.

"And I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your seed and her seed; He shall bruise you on the head, and you shall bruise Him on the heel."

My mind fell on two words -- her seed.

This Scripture is obviously speaking about the future triumph of Christ over the power of Satan, the enemy. But here, Jesus is referred to as the "seed of the woman."

Fast forward to Mary, a young virgin, chosen to carry and give birth the Jesus. God could have done anything in this scenario, but when I look closely, I marvel at how God chose to usher in the birth of His son in partnership with Mary. He uses her seed -- her egg. I guess up to this time I just figured God implanted a pre-fertilized egg into Mary and -- tada! She was pregnant. But He used her seed.

That means Jesus probably looked like Mary. Her genetic makeup was combined with God's. I am in awe that God invites a mere mortal to play such an integral role in the birth of His Son.

So, maybe I've seen too many biology videos on the "miracle of birth", but I wonder in Mary's case, when did conception happen? When did she actually become pregnant?
In the videos we see the sperm that is trying to burrow through the protective lining of the egg. Finally, when a pregnancy occurs, there is an opening and the egg becomes fertilized, and life begins.

I don't think Mary's impregnation was that different. A yielding had to occur from within her. I think conception happened when Mary said "Yes" to God's plan.

"I am the Lord's servant," Mary answered. "May it be to me as you have said."

The incredible love of God! He could have forced His will upon Mary, but God doesn't rape. Life springs forth when a fully-yielded heart says yes to God.

I ponder the truth of this for my own life. Where are the places God's Spirit is wooing me? Where is He inviting me to partner with Him in something that ushers in His life and presence? This Christmas I am impacted by the power of the choice I make to God's invitation. I want to be like Mary and respond with a yielded heart. I say YES.

Like a Bridge

I was at my goodbye party at the seminary bookstore where I worked over 25 years ago. The staff were all taking turns during our morning coffee break to share their warm wishes for me.

"Julie, you've surpassed all my expectations," one of my co-workers said peering over his glasses.

I anticipated the complimentary words that were about to come.

"You are a Charismatic, a woman, a blonde . . . and yet, you are intelligent!"

Um. Thank you?

Seriously, I didn't know what to say. People were snickering in the break room at his comment, but I could tell he meant it. His words were sincere.

Somehow this man had acquired less-than-wonderful feelings for blonde, Charismatic women. Somehow I was able to challenge those notions and cause him to consider a different conclusion.

That's when I realized what it's like to be a bridge. Sometimes you may feel a bit walked on, but somehow in the awkward process you might help someone get to the other side of an issue.

I want to be a bridge. But I'm not sure I'm always a good one.

Bridges are often taken for granted. When is the last time you drove across a bridge spanning a body of water and then turned around to say, "Thank you!"?

Everyday I walk across bridges -- spiritually and culturally, that other people paid dearly to lay down. Every time I cast my vote as a woman, read my Bible in English,or worship freely in my church, I am standing firmly on ground that was once thought controversial. Brave people bridged the ground from there to here and today I walk across it without a thought.

Bridges often aren't popular. On October 31 in 1517  Martin Luther nailed 95 theses,questioning practices of the Catholic Church, to the Wittenberg Door. I'm sure this act took him off the pope's Christmas card list, but slowly, needed changes began to happen in the church which we benefit from today.

My experiences as a bridge haven't been as dramatic, yet I often find myself in that in-between place trying to close the gap between two seemingly different entities. My heart feels divided. When I'm in church, I long for it to reach the people who are disenfranchised with church. When I'm with the disenfranchised, I long for them to love the church.

One of my favourite kinds of bridges is a musical bridge. The tune of the bridge is notably different from the rest of the song, yet it provides an important transition that eventually rejoins the original melody, sometimes taking it to a higher key.

A particularly powerful musical bridge is in the song Hosanna, sung by Hillsong:

Heal my heart and make it clean
Open up my eyes to the things unseen
Show me how to love like You have loved me
Break my heart for what breaks Yours
Everything I am for Your Kingdom's cause
As I walk from earth into eternity

I want to be that kind of bridge. As I try to graciously extend myself in this life to those on either side of me, I want my words and actions to draw them closer to God, to one another and to bring healing -- even if they're surprised that it came from a blonde, Charismatic female:)

Christmas Intervention

I still don't have all the correct equipment to stay warm during a Saskatchewan winter. As I enter my second Christmas season here in Canada I have a closet full of adorable knitted caps and scarves--some even with matching mittens--that I toted with me on our move from the United States. But the idea of looking cute in these winter fashions has had to fly out the window in favor of a less adorable wardrobe which helps me stay warm in the frigid temperatures.

I have a pair of "driving gloves" I got for a Christmas present when I lived in Oregon a few years ago. They kept the early morning chill off my hands in Eugene, but up here in the frozen tundra, that's a different story.

Last year I discovered how useless these gloves were here in Canada when I wore them as I braved subzero temperatures walking home from choir practice. When I got back into the warmth of my house, at first I couldn't feel my hands. Then gradually they began to ache as the life crept back into them.

It hurts to thaw out.

One of my favorite Christmas carols is "Come Thou Long Expected Jesus". The invitation of the first verse is so sweet and simple.

Come, thou long expected Jesus,
born to set thy people free;
from our fears and sins release us,
let us find our rest in thee.
Israel's strength and consolation,
hope of all the earth thou art;
dear desire of every nation,
joy of every longing heart.

This last week after I was at a service where we sang it, I felt a weight inside of me -- kind of a longing. Although it ached, I didn't want it to go away. I could feel my heart opening up to places inside where I am still waiting for Jesus in deeper ways. The warmth of God's Spirit was touching on frozen hopes and dreams within my heart.

It hurts to thaw out.

Christmastime is a season when God regularly does an intervention on me. When I finally slow down and listen to His voice I can hear Him asking me in deeper and deeper ways "Will you make room for me?"

My answer each time is "Yes!" And each time I revisit this place with God, the frozen places within my heart begin to melt and I am renewed.

How silently, how silently
The wondrous gift is given!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of His heaven.
No ear may hear His coming,
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him still,
The dear Christ enters in.

Come, dear Christ. My heart invites you afresh and anew to be Lord of my life. Rearrange and remove whatever you need to make more room for your presence.

Amen.

Connoisseur of Christianity

I heard a story once from a missionary who was returning to the US after being in Mozambique for an extended time. She said the culture shock didn't fully sink in until she took a trip to the local grocery store. As she looked at the racks and racks of choices just for bread, she became paralyzed. She was unable to make a choice. Just days ago, the only bread she had was the loaf she bought several times a week from the local village woman. Now she could get it with sesame seeds, whole wheat, rye, white, enriched or all natural, etc.

We North Americans live with such abundance at our fingertips. There's so much to be thankful for, but there are trappings that come with the plentiful supply.

When something is readily available, it's becomes easy to get picky with how you like it. Coffee is a great example. Ten years ago, people would have thought it absurd to pay close to five dollars for a made-to-order cup of coffee. Today we think nothing of it.

It's entertaining to sit in a Starbucks and listen to people's orders for their drinks. One of my favorite quotes about this topic is from the movie "You've Got Mail". Tom Hanks' character is writing to Meg Ryan's character about people who order at Starbucks. He says:

"The whole purpose of places like Starbucks is for people with no decision-making ability whatsoever to make six decisions just to buy one cup of coffee. Short, tall, light, dark, caf, decaf, low-fat, non-fat, etc. So people who don't know what they're doing or who on earth they are can, for only $2.95, get not just a cup of coffee but an absolutely defining sense of self: Tall. Decaf. Cappuccino."

As funny as this quote is, it contains some truth that applies to other areas of life besides coffee ordering.

We live in a region where Christians are free to worship. Churches abound. Books and CDs and DVDs are simple to access. We do not lack for spiritual food. But in this abundance, it's easy to become picky eaters. We start deciding why we don't like certain churches, or don't enjoy the company of certain Christians the same way we choose our favorite brand of cereal.

I'm not knocking discernment. We need it more and more. The core truths of Christianity should never be watered down or compromised. This is something different.

Sometimes Bible believing Christians can lose out on great fellowship because they let their personal preferences get in the way.

When I was a toddler, I was a VERY picky eater. The only thing I would consistently eat was strained banana baby food. My Mom was just thankful I was eating so she regularly gave it to me. When she took me to the doctor for my check up he was horrified because my banana diet had turned my skin yellow! He (not so nicely) told my Mom she'd better find a way to get me to eat a balanced diet for my health's sake.

I admit, as I am living in a largely Christian area, I find myself picking and choosing a little too much in the area of my spiritual food. If I'm left to my own devices, I would probably still eat a spiritual diet of lots and lots of the same thing. God help me.

I want to be a vibrant, well-rounded Christian who can appreciate the many different giftings and expressions within God's people and His kingdom.

Growing up, my family would gather together every Thanksgiving and the table was loaded down with food. My eyes were set on the dressing, my favorite. But along with this wonderful concoction there were other dishes that I did not like as much. My grandma put a tiny bit of these foods on my plate. "Try just a bite," she said. "You never know, you just might like it."

I think I'm going to take my Grandma's advice in the area of my spiritual food as well. Who knows? I might just end up finding something I really like!

God, help me not reject what other Christian brothers and sisters bring to the table. Give me your grace to receive what they have and in doing so become more well-rounded and healthy in my own spirituality. Amen.

Contemplating Greatness

What makes a person great? I've been thinking quite a bit about that lately. I have this pull in me to really have my life count for something. When I think of what that might look like, my thoughts usually come around to something visible that people would know I did or was involved with. There's nothing wrong with wanting to be linked to something great, but it's a really close cousin to wanting to be famous. Fame is fickle and we all know that not everyone who is famous is great.

There are acts of greatness that the world applauds: discovering the cure for polio, being awarded a purple heart for bravery, winning a gold medal in the Olympics.

But the more I think on this topic, I wonder if some of the biggest acts of greatness are often things that the masses cannot see -- maybe no one sees them--except God.

The person who is slandered and refuses to speak evil in return, the husband or wife who faithfully cares for a spouse whose health is failing, the long suffering parent who continues to believe for their prodigal to return, the friend who is loyal even when that loyalty is not returned -- all of these are acts of greatness.

While visible acts of greatness often bring acclaim, invisible acts don't. A person does the right thing seemingly without notice--no headlines, no praise, no award--at least not here on earth.

I read a quote last week that said something like "A person's character is best seen by how he treats another who cannot help him in return."

I want to be a person with this calibre of character. Perhaps there will be tangible things people remember me for, but more than that, I want to be someone who is willing to serve no matter what the return. I believe this makes God glad and that's the greatest thing of all!