Unconditional Love

I am smitten. Hopelessly intoxicated with affection for my little girl who was born in December (she's going on 4 months old). I know it's biology--oxytocin, the love and bonding hormone, released into my brain when I nurse, when she whimpers, when she smiles, even when I just stare at her angelic little face.  But since I am a believer in things that cannot be measured, I believe love is more than biology.

And she is more than biology, this little bundle of new flesh, helpless yet strong. She looks like a different creature each week, becoming herself. That is the journey of life, right? The journey I am still in, becoming myself. And I love her through every little transition and am willing to do whatever necessary to help her along.

I want to compare my mother love to God's love. Now, don't be alarmed; I am well aware that He is holy and He is other than weak little me... and yet, He created me in His image. All of natural life is full of pictures and parables pointing to Him. As the skies and oceans make us feel small enough to contemplate a Creator, the natural love of parents toward children points us to the greatest and most loving parent of all. I try not to presume, but I think it is reasonable to say, if humans are capable of great love, how much greater is God's love?

God's love is underrated, often painted as abstraction, or taken for granted... but we can never tire of mentioning His love. Like the hymn says, if the sky was paper, the oceans ink, and every man a scribe, the oceans would go dry and the paper would be too small to tell about the love of God.

So I am in love. My baby girl doesn't have to do anything for me to love her. I mean absolutely nothing! Even if she cries inconsolably for what seems like an entire afternoon, I am more often frustrated with my inability to meet her needs than with the inconvenience her needs present. I got irritated more easily with my first-born, but I've become a little more patient and a little less selfish with each baby. (She is my third.) How much more does God love us unconditionally, regardless of whether we appreciate Him or love Him back?

Sometimes I am lazy or cold hearted, and don't respond right away to a child crying. Sometimes I delay on purpose to give them a chance to practice calming down on their own, but often it's my sheer indifference. But God is not like me that way; He doesn't get lazy or apathetic toward His kids. His heart is always for us, always with us, always responsive and connected. He does not resent inconvenience. (The cross, after all, was pretty inconvenient.) He hears when His children cry and responds perfectly.

When my little one is satisfied with my comfort, when she eats herself into a breastmilk coma-- I am truly delighted. I feel proud and powerful--in a good way--sustaining her existence with my own body. I am satisfied because she is satisfied. (If you're a mom who couldn't breastfeed, no judgment here.)  How much more is God willing--even delighted-- to meet our needs? How much more does He take joy when we are satisfied with His provision and care?

You've probably heard, breastmilk is miraculous stuff. It's a perfect balance of nutrients--protein, fat, sugars, water, vitamins, living probiotics, immune boosters, literally everything a baby needs for the first six months of life on the outside. The supply matches the needs of the baby, the supply and demand constantly fluctuating, constantly synchronizing. Breastmilk even delivers like a three course meal, with the lightest milk first and the sweetest, fattiest milk last.

One of God's names in the Bible is Shaddai, the breasted one. If that grosses you out, too bad! He is not embarrassed. After all, He personally designed the amazing female body to bear His image alongside the male. As the breasted one, He sustains us Himself, every breath, every meal, every heartbeat. His nourishment is miraculous and sufficient; His supply to us matches our need perfectly.

Sometimes I am lazy or hard hearted and don't respond right away to a child crying. (Sometimes I delay on purpose to give them a chance to practice calming down on their own, but usually it's sheer laziness.) But God is not like me that way; He doesn't get lazy or apathetic toward His kids. His heart is always for us. He does not resent inconvenience. (The cross, after all, was pretty inconvenient.) He hears when His children cry and responds perfectly.

If you are thinking, Wow, her version of God sounds like a sissy, let me say a few things. First, God is also the wisest parent and I do not mean to say He is a pushover. He perfectly discerns needs, wants and the gray areas in between. He always meets our needs and sometimes witholds our wants to help us become mature in self-control, humility, generosity, etc. But through it all, His heart is for us, wanting good for us.

Second, I know in part and prophesy in part. We cannot really grasp all of God's facets at once. I just wanted to look at one facet of God's mother-like love, one that is not often mentioned in communities where God's masculinity is strongly emphasized. He is masculine too. He is both; male and female He made us in His image. God is full and perfect in every facet--as King, as Shepherd, as Friend, as Deliverer... I want to see all of Him, but rather than try to stand far enough back to see the whole mountain that fills the earth, sometimes I like to look very closely at one little part. His love is vast; I am just illustrating one little part.

Meditating on God's perfect love reminds me of some lines in a Jason Upton song: "Frustrated, I try to make it, 'cause I've just got something to prove. Smiling, He says, 'Son, come here. Won't you let me just help you?'" Like a parent, He is intimate in His love for us, and willing to be close to us. I am not suggesting that we go through life acting like helpless babies, but I am suggesting we receive God's love with childlike trust, un-self-conscious and dependent, making our needs known without shame. I love my little girl more than she knows and I am undone by my love for her--how much more does God love me? My little girl depends on me for her life; certainly I can depend on God for mine.

Trusting God with my heart's desire

Fear and worry are sort of my favorite enemies to pick on; I savor every victory. This particular battle was a bit longer than usual, though. When my daughter was in the womb I worried more than I had worried for my sons. I had those normal but disturbing nightmares about giving birth to a pile of rocks, to a wooden doll, to a tiny creature that fit in the palm of my hand and then shrunk and disappeared.

Maybe I was just more anxious because I wanted her so much. I loved my two boys but I wanted a girl so badly, and my husband and I agreed this was going to be our last child. When I found out I was pregnant, long before the ultrasound, I bought a sweet little girl's pajama, whispering a prayer that I believed God was giving me the girl I asked for. I hid it in my closet because I didn't want my husband to think I was foolish. Months later at the ultrasound, my heart beat faster when the technician asked if I wanted to know the gender. Had i been a fool? Was it just chance and biology? Does God care about these things? Tears sprang in my eyes when she told me it's a girl. No one else has to believe-- I know there was a 50% chance of having the girl I wanted, but in my heart I chose to believe it was God's doing.

One night while I was pregnant I woke up and didn't feel her moving. (Babies in utero sleep a lot--no need for concern unless a couple hours go by with no movement.) I practically held my breath waiting for her to wake up, unable to go back to sleep until I was sure.
While I laid in the dark waiting, fear welled up in my heart. What if God gave me the girl I asked for, only to take her away and break my heart? What if He just wants to test me? Will I still believe in Him? I reluctantly concluded, yes, I would still believe... Helpless sadness began to settle into my heart as I resigned myself to a capricious God, arbitrary and heartless as He tests His followers. Vaguely I was aware of some questionable doctrines I had somehow picked up along the way-- if you love something or someone too much, God will take it away from you in His jealousy.  Vaguely I thought, Wait, that's not right... That's not right!

Suddenly my heart and spirit came wide awake as I shook off fear. Boldly I prayed --whispering, because my husband was sleeping, but in my heart I was shouting-- "No! My Father is not cruel! He cares about the desires of my heart! He cares about me! He would not give me the child I asked for and then destroy her. I trust You! The enemy comes to steal, kill, and destroy, but You came to give life! I trust You to take care of us! Watch over my body, watch over this child, Father!"

Over the rest of the pregnancy I still struggled with fear and worry, but I had confidence in the goodness of my Father, and I continued to pray believing He is for me and not against me. Never again did I beg for Him to have mercy as if He were a cruel master. As my due date drew near, my water broke partially with no contractions. My midwife said the baby had plenty of fluid left, but we needed to be vigilant against infection. I still worried and prayed and fretted.

Days went by and I wrote to my church's prayer team:  "Asking for prayer that the baby gets in optimal position and the Lord's perfect timing. And also asking prayer for me, for peace and confidence. For some reason I have struggled with fear and worry for this baby all through my pregnancy. But I am choosing to trust God's good intentions."

Mike Brink, the prayer team leader, responded: "Lord, bless Aurora. Fill her with Peace. Put peace into her amniotic fluid, all thru the sac, and into the umbilical cord and baby. Bring peace, acceptance, and welcome to Baby. Bring peace into the whole process. Banish all fears and let your angels minister all the touches of peace and health and love that Baby and Mother both will need throughout and after."

That night, rather than another birth nightmare, I dreamed about a beautiful white home full of colorful books and artwork--including children's handprint art. Outside was a garden bursting with flowering vines, a cherry tree in bloom, and flowers everywhere, as if, unlike earthly life, all the plants were flowering at the same time.

The next day I was full of peace. I stopped doing exercises to get her in optimal position, I stopped taking the evening primrose supplement that was supposed to help labor start, I took the day off from worry, and sat around watching tv--not very spiritual, but that's the truth. She was born the following morning with no complications. However, as my midwife checked the placenta, she discovered that the umbilical cord was barely attached. Normally the tough gristle-like tissue surrounding the precious blood vessels is firmly anchored to the center of the placenta. But the vessels were only attached at the outer edge of the placenta, and the tough protective tissue wasn't connected at all. If the baby had got the cord wrapped around a foot and kicked, she could have died. We looked at Mike's prayer again and felt chills. My midwife said, well, you had good reason to be worried.

The day she was born, my husband said he wanted to name her Rosalyn ("pretty rose"). I had worked on a list of my favorite names, and Rosalyn was not one of them. But when he said, with a matter-of-fact shrug, "She's a rose," I remembered my garden dream and agreed. I realized that most of the names I had chosen were about me, not her. I felt God telling me that she will be different from me, reserved, a caretaker, a gentle gardener. So I chose another garden feature for her middle name, Ivy, which represents "faithfulness."

So my heart is full. I was going to write about my love for my daughter, even though she has done nothing--absolutely nothing!--to earn it. And I was going to say, how much more does our Father God love us unconditionally. But I guess I needed to tell this story first, about God's faithfulness to me and my little rose.

A different angle of abiding

In October, I was at a small house of prayer conference. As we prayed before the service, I saw in my mind's eye a couple face-to-face like lovers: Jesus and His people, especially the people who emphasize "intimacy with God." Then I saw the faces move so that they were side by side, so closely connected that their minds and hearts were in unity. They looked forward together. I shared my impression with the worship team and believed God was going to do a change in us, a shift in our relationship with Him.

 Here at the end of December, I wonder if I am doing something wrong. I don't have near as much face-to-face time with God in prayer and worship as I used to. I don't feel backslidden; love is alive in my life and maturing. I feel His presence when I practice goodness and kindness and humility. But this other rhythm of life is uncomfortable. I don't feel guilty for abandoning all the vigorous meetings I used to attend. And I don't feel guilty for not reading my Bible every day. I am glad when I read it and content with what I have hidden in my heart the rest of the time. Is it ok that I am ok with this? I had to think it over in poem.

We have changed-- I know I have grown
I look in your face less often now
Yet you seem more near, familiar, ever-present
I used to try to always look for your eyes
Now it seems like I have your eyes
I am seeing what you see when I stop for the one
I feel what you feel when kindness for the little ones surges up inside me
Your diligence is chipping away inside me
As I chip away at housework, smiling a little more
I dont often have the euphoria of encounter these days
But I feel slow love at work, steady as a mountain, filling the earth
I have no ambition but to love, having laid down my arms
Oh rest! To have no agenda but to be available to love
My left and right hand hidden, no programs to build.
Someday again it will be time to plant and build
Something alive and clean
But now is the year to let the field rest
While microbes and worms and unseen helpers turn the dirt
Renewing its capacity to sustain roots
This year, let weeds and wildflowers jostle on the surface
And when they fade fold their small strength under the earth
Preparing for new seeds and new crops ahead

It is against my training to neglect the ecstasy of worship:
I have been told it's the reason to be alive, to encounter God
I often thought it was my only purpose
But now I have to be about my Father's business,
I cannot live for spiritual ecstasy
At the same time I have renewed my commitment to ecstasy at home
How strange, when once I longed for worship times and shunned my husband,
And now my worship has changed and i have welcomed my husband into my heart at last
I have pondered this switch; I believe it is good.
Maybe I have stopped "worshipping worship,"
Maybe I was addicted to the emotional experience and not God Himself
Because now the worship emotions have changed
And I still have Him near and dear

Yesterday I saw Akiane in a video say,
When I was younger God talked to me face to face
But now that I am older I just know he is with me, in the paints
In the creating, I know he is with me all the time.
Then I remembered what i saw
Changing from face to face to side by side
Close, side by side, almost one, like a siamese twin,
overlapping like those photos on Gungor's new album
And now I think I am on the right track
It's ok for me to be ok with this.

I'm sending my five-year-old to public school in a poor neighborhood

Some months ago, a dear friend was lamenting again how she wants to move. I pointed out that as long as I've known her, wherever she lives, she always wants to move. But wherever you go, there you are. She protested that this was different, she wants a better school for her kids, fewer drug addicts in the neighborhood... Her bland apartment, smashed in next to dozens of others, with children always traipsing through each other's unfenced yards, is not so bad. It's not unsafe. It's just not nice. And the people aren't all nice, just average sinners, some swearing and drinking, with occasional marijuana and neglect... All the kids love to come to my friend's house, because she was born to be a mother. Her compassion grows with every (unplanned) child she bears. As we talk, her beautiful petite frame is filling out with number five. She practices kindness and patience with the neighbor kids, and shares from her consistent supply of goldfish crackers, the same way she used to put them in a cute mug for me when I first met her. I've eaten a lot of goldfish crackers at my friend's retro kitchen table, and so have the kids in her neighborhood. But she worries. Maybe this neighborhood isn't "good for" her kids. As long as I've known her, she's wanted more, always restless. Her poor husband is always scraping through to feed all the mouths and keep them under one roof. I had an epiphany while I was listening to her. Someone saddled my friend with the idea that in order to please God, you must live in a nice neighborhood and your kids must grow up in safety, with plenty of opportunities. I suddenly felt a little ire at this great and prevalent lie, that God's will is the American dream. I got on a soapbox and said something like, "You don't have to live in a nice neighborhood to be a good Christian! If that were God's will, then most of the world wouldn't be able to attain it! And what about the missionaries living in some remote place laying down their lives for love? Bet their kids don't get a lot of "opportunities" as Americans think of them. Maybe God put you here in THIS apartment complex to love and show compassion. If you love your neighbors and teach your kids to love, they will be fine. Show them that you are content in God's will. They don't have to go to a nice school, they just need to know they can trust God and love people!" My friend couldn't argue with my point, and admitted she needs to trust God more, otherwise how can she teach her kids in that way? She also seemed a little relieved to hear that God didn't expect her to figure out how to improve her status in order to be acceptable to Him. ...... Today this conversation rushed back into my mind, as I looked at the tuition prices of a Christian school. Because I'm worried. Worried that the elementary school across the street won't be "good for" my kindergartener. Will the Mexican neighbors who pick on him in the front yard treat him even worse at school, when I'm not close by? I tell my sons to love their neighbors. All the time. Love, love, love. And tell the truth. Not just "be nice," or "behave." Love from the heart and forgive; if you can't, ask God for help. But in my heart, I am afraid to send them out into the world where they will certainly encounter mistreatment. (And all the experienced moms, who have already sent children away to school and college and marriage, will smile gently and chuckle at my fear, because they remember it so well.) Of course, I don't want my sons to volunteer for abuse, but l have only taught them the armor of love and truth. The armor of fear and isolation (or at least pre-emptive rejection of strangers) would be a lot more safe and predictable. I see other little boys Lachlan's age who have already learned to swagger like their fathers and hold their heads up, and look for their own advantage. Lachlan still has no swagger, no pride, no pretense. He's tender-hearted and vulnerable; I don't want him to learn hardness and lying.

I looked up a local Christian school I had seen. $200 a month for tuition. And tears sprang to my eyes because that price is impossible for us right now. And then I recognized the same mentality my friend was struggling with--this is what it means to be a good Christian American family: You're supposed to own a house, one or two cars that don't break down, send your kids to Christian school or home school, live on only one income, have dinner together every night. Well what if you're poor!? Then you need to work harder so you're not poor anymore, then you can be the kind of Christian God is looking for? What a pile of crap.

And on the other hand, I know what's "good for" most people---a healthy dose of challenges and trials, passed through with patience and faith. Humans are always trying to avoid pain; some Americans seem to take any pain or difficulty as an infringement on their rights. Doesn't the Bible say something about being "patient in affliction"? It's sort of un-American, but it's definitely part of basic Christianity. So, then, perhaps the "best" thing for Lachlan will be to go to a school where he is part of the racial minority. Perhaps the best thing I can do as a parent is to strengthen him to endure a little rejection and mistreatment, to pass through it with dignity, confidence, and patience. Will the armor of love be enough? I hope so.

Freely I have received

As I have been practicing giving cheerfully, and not under compulsion, it seems that every time I give I receive back something unexpected. I never give because I want to selfishly gain money, but it's wonderful to receive so that I can give more.

My friend and step-cousin, Jordan Bentley, recently became a full-time staff member at a local prayer house, where he has to raise his own financial support. After being on a worship/prayer team with him for more than five years, I know him to be faithful, diligent, and patient. He's also smart and a great musician, a great contribution to the house of prayer staff. I could brag some more, but to summarize in a cliche, he's worth his salt. A year or so ago, I asked him if he ever intended to go on staff, and he said yes. At the time I was staying home with the kids and my husband was unemployed, but I gave Jordan a (measly) $5 and said, “Here is the beginning of your support.” Less than a year later, he became a full-time staff member at the house of prayer. Since I became a waitress last fall, we work literally across the street from each other, so I can just walk over and drop off some cash with him--effortless! It gave me such joy to give, especially because I hadn't really been in a position to give for several years. I love it! I get excited to bless him. Sometimes I give what is convenient and sometimes more sacrificially—I just give what I can give cheerfully. (I don't have a system or formula to offer---sorry!)

On Thursday, Feb 7, I checked my email. I saw a message from Josh Garrels, which reminded me I had wanted to send him money. Josh Garrels lives in Portland, Oregon, and he is changing the culture of music. His last album he gave away for free online, and he is building a studio with the intention of giving opportunities to broke, unknown artists. My impression is that the studio is pretty much being built by donations. Anyway, I found a physical address on the email, so I got an envelope, wrote him an encouraging note, and went to my tip jar in the cupboard. I thought of giving him $40, or $100, but I settled on $50. I sealed the envelope but didn't have time to stick it in the mail before I had to go out the door. That night at work, I made over $100 in tips, which was a record for Thursday night (usually I make $30-$60 in tips on a Thursday evening.) It did not even make sense--we were not very busy, and I didn't wait on any particularly big/expensive tables. But everyone I waited on tipped me 20% or more. My boss even double checked the credit card tips and asked me about it, because it seemed like a mistake to her, but all the numbers were right. I was delighted, and thought, maybe I should have given Josh Garrels more!

The next day, Friday, February 8, my husband called to say we had received our federal tax refund. He told me to give $400 to Jordan first. I got really excited to give him a bigger gift than my usual $20 or $40; I knew it would really help with his finances. I was looking forward to my lunch break when I could walk to the bank and then take the gift to him at the house of prayer. As I got excited, I told one of my co-workers (Leo from Guatemala) that we got our tax refund and I'm going to give to my friend who works/volunteers across the street. I told him, when I give, then I receive more. I told him about the gift I set aside on Thursday, and how I made twice as many tips as I expected that same day.

A few weeks ago, I gave Jordan $100 on a Thursday or Friday. On that Saturday night, I made more tips than I had ever made in one shift--$200! But today, the Lord set a new record for me--and a new record for the restaurant, I think!

Tonight I waited on a table with two men--one in his 30's perhaps, with glasses and I thought he was kind of funny-looking, but seemed very sweet. The other man had white hair. He was pleasant but not remarkable or particularly memorable. They had their tea, their food, and then they ordered a couple dishes to go, following the chef's recommendation for the spiciest dishes. I worked hard to serve them well, but waiting on them was uneventful until I took their payment. The older man paid--I saw that it was cash, and I asked if he needed change. He firmly said no. I took the money to the register, and the tip was $130! Embarrassed, I took a receipt to him and asked sheepishly, are you sure you don't need any change? He firmly said no again, and said, "I know what I put in there, it's for you. You might think I'm a fool, but 'a fool and his money are soon parted.'" I was flabbergasted and stuttered a thank you. I went to get their to-go food, and almost felt embarrassed to go back to the table. I immediately recognized that the Lord was already giving me more to give. I told the man, stumbling on my words and almost choking up, that I have been practicing giving and I just today gave someone a large gift (maybe I told him it was $400, I don't remember) and this is amazing to already receive more. Somehow I think I communicated that I thought this was a blessing related to the gift I had just given. The man said cheerfully, "well, enjoy your weekend!" with a twinkle in his eye. I replied, "I'm going to have fun giving some more!"

Oh but the story gets better. As I am delivering food to another table, I cross paths with the giver on his way out the door. He says loudly, “Miss, would you stop a minute?” So I pause, and he says, “This is also for you,” and he sets down some folded money near me. I quickly put the plates on the table a few steps away and rush back to grab the money. I see another $100 and I stuff it in my pocket, again blown away and slightly embarrassed. I tell my co-workers he gave me another $100, and I tell them how I have been practicing giving and I keep receiving. My Thai Buddhist manager acknowledges that buddhists also believe that if you give, you will receive. And, she says, "it works."

It's near the end of my shift, so I finish the paperwork for my credit card tips and get cash for them. We are supposed to tip the kitchen 15% of what we make, but it's split between 3-5 people. On a good night, they get $10 each and the servers get $80 each. I often feel bad that I make so much more money than the cooks, who work as hard as I do, so I often tip them more than I have to. On this night, thinking I have earned about $300 in tips, I give the four cooks and one dishwasher $20 each. I did not intend to get attention for it—I just feel happy to share the blessing! My co-workers, who were amazed at my large tip, are also stunned when they see all the cooks' tip buckets (in plain view) with $20 bills.

I told Leo in the kitchen about the big tip and he joked, I don't believe you--you must be kidding me. So right before I left, I went into the kitchen and pulled out the two $100 bills for him to see, but when I unfolded the bill I had shoved in my pocket, there were TWO and not one! I gave $100 to the kitchen and then discovered I had $100 more than I thought! This last discovery, I did not share with all my co-workers that night. It was too overwhelming. The server who has been there for 12 years, very hard working and good at her job, seemed more bewildered than anyone. She kept saying, I don't understand--why did he give that to you? The youngest server, who is a believer like me, knew that it was God's hand. Before I left I said to her, "I cleaned all my tables but I didn't set them. Do you need me to set them before I go?" She replied, "I don't even care! I'll do anything for you! You just got a huge tip and I can't stop smiling!"

Cheerful givers

"Out of the most severe trial, their overflowing joy and their extreme poverty welled up in rich generosity." 2 Corinthians 8:2

I lead a small worship and prayer meeting on Monday evenings. When I say it like that, it sounds dry and church-y. But it's one of the highlights of my week--being in the presence of God together with my friends fills my heart with sweet light. I anticipate this meeting as a time to be refreshed and renewed; we usually go home glowing. But sometimes, I want the sweetness to last a little longer, i.e. social time after the meeting.

Recently I invited my friend, Kara, and her son, Tommy, to go out for dessert afterward. My only agenda was just to continue the fellowship of the Spirit we had during our prayer time; it just felt so good to be together. Kara is a gift of honest, free fellowship. With a grin, she often bursts out, "Koinonia!" during our delightful, intriguing and sometimes challenging conversations.

Kara and Tommy cheerfully said yes to dessert at 10:30 pm on a Monday evening, when almost nothing in Salem, Oregon is open! I called my husband to say I'd be home late, and he said I should come home and get some cash because we didn't have money in the bank for me to use the debit card.  My friends overheard me and said not to worry, they would pay for it.

After driving to a few different places that were already closed, we found a restaurant that was open. As we looked over the menu, they calculated. All the money they had in their possession was $12 in the bank, and Tommy had $2 in his wallet! I suddenly felt terrible that I hadn't gone home to get money. My husband still had a wad of cash in the cupboard leftover from our tax refund. I usually get very uncomfortable when I don't know if I will have enough money to pay my share in a social situation. I usually pretend to be fine but make worried calculations in my head. I would never volunteer to pay for someone else if I only had $14 in the whole world!  


But Kara and Tommy were completely relaxed and cheerful, not even embarrassed!  They used a phone calculator to figure out what they could afford. The decided what they were getting, then they encouraged me to choose a dessert, since I had asked to go out to dessert. I knew I had some cash in my wallet, but I underestimated how much. I dug out two or three dollars, mostly quarters I had been saving for laundry.  I protested that they didn't need to spend their last five dollars buying me dessert! "No, we're definitely spending all of it!" Kara said. I argued that I didn't really care about dessert, I just wanted an excuse to be together.  I really didn't mind drinking water and sharing the tater tots.  But Kara insisted--insisted!--that I choose a dessert.

It's hard to explain, because I have never seen it before--but this was not your standard polite arm-wrestle for the bill, where some of the motives are tangled up with social expectations and the desire to appear generously in-control. There was also no hint of martyrdom in my friend's cheerful that-settles-it argument: "God takes care of us each day, and He said not to worry about tomorrow." I had some social guilt too, because I initiated our outing and then came up empty-handed! You're not supposed to invite people to go out unless you are prepared to at least pay for yourself.  But, trusting my intentions completely, Kara cheerfully brushed past my social mistake. I had no choice but to order the decadent brownie topped with nuts and ice cream. And enjoy it as freely as I had received!

Not only were they happily un-embarrassed to do the math in front of me, but when it came time to pay the bill, they were equally unashamed to ask the waiter to put $12 of the bill on the debit card and we would pay the rest in $1 bills and quarters!

Now I can happily say I know what it looks like to "give cheerfully"!

Vision for Fullness

This is a dream I had a year ago; I happened to dig it up today. These are the raw notes I wrote when I woke up, with my own comments in italic. I dreamed....

A father was given a party in his honor. He saw his daughter and son sitting in the driveway in their car, and wondered why they weren’t coming in.  I said, they’re probably arguing.
Have you ever missed out on God's celebration because you were too busy fighting?

Then the father brought out a huge flag and waved it at them:  it was as wide as he was tall.  He got down on one knee and spread out his arms to hold it up.  It was a white flag with an outline of a man, half of him was black (left side) half red, but the outline wasn’t filled in solid, rather it looked like veins or a sponge.
His banner is love, and His love is as deep and wide as He Himself... but this is also a white flag of surrender. A call to surrender.  The way of the Kingdom of God is voluntarily laying down our rights for the sake of love and unity. Not under compulsion, but as a response to the invitation of love.  Maybe the black and red man illustrates the two natures within us at war, spirit and flesh. We are being renewed in this life, constantly growing in the Spirit and putting to death the ways of selfishness and corruption.  Since the outline is not yet filled in, there is much still to be determined in this struggle.  Which will flow like a river in our lives? The sin nature or the life of the Spirit?

Then like a commercial in front of me, his voice boomed, and it was like Kirk Bennett’s voice but also like the Lord’s --and the words were white on a black screen, “Do you have vision for the fullness?” There were more words I don’t remember, but I also remember this part (not exactly word for word):  “We have touched and held things that have burned our members.“ In the dream, I thought this statement referred to the things of God that had scorched the flesh.
When we begin to grow and draw near to God, He begins to expose darkness in our hearts in order to deliver us from it. At this point, some people become discouraged or turn away.  But "our members" also refers to community, since we are the Body of Christ with many members.  The work of deliverance that God does privately in our hearts can be painful, but the relationships that He ordains also include pain. Both the pain of hearing the truth (from God) we did not want to hear, and the pain of each other's failures and shortcomings.  You see, God can use your shortcomings for my good.  Even your sin and weakness--your short temper, your flakiness, your coldness--is God's kindness toward me to help me grow in humility, kindness, patience and grace.  I will do what I can to help you, but in the meantime God wants to use the wounds among us for our own good.

I felt challenged by this--would I have vision for fullness? Would I be willing to endure pain for it?