load-bearing

"Faith is a burden; it's a weight to bear."

Unorthodox evangelical Christianity at it's finest. "His yoke is easy, and His burden is light!" we cry...but then why do people still hurt? Why is there still pain, even for the redeemed? Why do those who know Christ and who know the life we'll one day live have such a painful churning in their stomachs at the condition of the world around them, or even of their own lives? I read once that only Christians are really able to see what's wrong with the world. Only followers of Christ can truly know the sorry state we're all in. Only those who have real hope recognize such real pain.

It's hard to trust. It's hard to believe against experience. It's hard to be sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.

Faith hurts.

People who have no hope aren't disappointed by the way things are. Those who don't know that this world was never meant to be this way don't "groan inwardly" as they wait for a change. Faith is a heavy load on the shoulders of the ones who trust. It implies longing, it calls for patience, it forces steps through darkness to reach a goal that is desired but remains painfully unclear.

Noah was mocked as a fool, Job dismissed as a prideful liar, Abraham looked despairingly into the glare of death, Daniel's friends faced a pit of flames while he himself faced a pit of lions, and Stephen spoke boldly as he eyed the cold gray stones weighing each of their hands.

It hurts to believe in something. It hurts to hope for something more. Faith IS a burden; faith IS a weight to bear; faith IS a heavy, heavy load.

But the load that people of faith bear, though it doesn't lessen with time, will not weigh them down forever. When this world ends and everything we have, everything we do, will be gone forever, "these three remain: faith, hope, and love." What makes us "us" in this world will not survive, but what we look for, what we trust in, and what fills our hearts is of eternal importance. Our faith, our hope, our love - these matter.

"But by faith we eagerly await through the Spirit the righteousness for which we hope. For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision has any value. The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love" (Gal. 5:5-6).

It's what counts after all is said and done. Christ is called the perfecter - the finisher - of our faith. He will finish it. In the end faith will be seen, hope will be realized, and all that will be left is love.

Let that support you as you walk under such a real and heavy load. Keep walking. The end will be in sight.

~2 Cor. 5:7~ We live by faith, not by sight.

I say faith is a burden
It's a weight to bear
It's brave and bittersweet
And hope is hard to hold to
Lord, I believe
Only help my unbelief

Till there's no more faith
No more hope
I'll see your face and Lord, I'll know
No more faith
No more hope
I'll sing your praise and let them go

'Cos only love remains

~Andrew Peterson, "No More Faith"

Already Shining

based on John 1:1-18

He named the darkness. It belongs to Him, yet it rebels against Him. It cries for all sorts of evil, it hosts wickedness, it is the residence of everything that is a perversion of His intentions for this world.

Then, in an inexplicable act of both grace and mercy, He sent part of Himself, one of Himself, to be the Presence in the Absence - to be the good amidst the evil, the righteous among the horror, to be the perfections of His intentions. The Light entered the Darkness to show it for what it was and to show Himself for who He is.

But that which was never meant to be did not understand that which always was. Though His light was shining in the darkest of corridors, they refused to walk by it and instead smothered the flame.

But the Son of God who was the Son of Man, containing the very Glory of heaven, would not remain shrouded in the dank cloak of earthly darkness. Though they trampled the flame for a time, He cast off the cloak and revealed the true splendor of His heavenly sunshine.

The Light of heaven conquered the Darkness of this world.

Now we know that darkness, in itself, can never cover or extinguish light. Light will always overpower darkness. The fullness of the Radiance will chase away the emptiness of the Rebellion and those living by the Light will never again find themselves in the shadows.

He will melt the clouds of sin and sadness, He will drive the dark of doubt away. The Giver of immortal gladness will fill us with the light of Day.

Sacrificial Thanksgiving

It really is true what they say about holidays: it can be the best time of the year for some people and the absolute worst for others. Images - of Easter dresses and frilly socks, cornucopia center pieces and hands held around the table in prayer, reading the passage out of Luke in the family room while the smell of pine fills the air from both the fireplace and the sap dripping onto the ornaments - images that either dance around the dreams and memories of those who know them well or that torment the imaginations of those who are left without.

But there's also a middle road - a road where those images are taunting but only because the dance is so beautiful yet temporarily unattainable. Homesickness if you will, felt by those who do not disdain the images themselves but only the fact that they exist merely in dreams and memories and not in an immediate reality.

"We love you," they say. "We miss you and really wish you were here." The words snap at me like a snake, but one with a honey-venom. Comforting in their own rite, but piercing and painful nonetheless.

"God, why do you tease me like this? Are you just trying to show me everything I had to give up to be here? Don't you see what I had? But you made me leave it there, so why do you keep bringing it up? I don't need to remember everything I sacrificed..."

Then Truth whispers, "Exactly."

15 months ago I was driving through the barren wasteland of Arkansas in tears, thinking of everything I was leaving behind to go somewhere nothing in me wanted to go. I left my family, my home, my friends, my church, my park, my ______, my _______, my ________ ... for Texas. "God," I cried, "I hope you know how much I don't want to do this. I hope you see how much this hurts." But then the words pierced the air and just hung in my ears -

I will not forget You are my God, my King
and with a thankful heart I bring my offering
and my sacrifice is not what You can give
but what I alone can give to You
a grateful heart I give
a thankful prayer I pray
~Enter the Worship Circle, "I will not forget You"

In that moment Truth whispered, just as he has so many times since, "Exactly."

I'm reminded today that I view love in terms of sacrifice. The greater the sacrifice, the deeper the love, and that thought digs into my heart. Of course He knew how much I didn't want to do this. Of course He saw how much it hurt. Of course He wants me to remember my sacrifice. Of course He wants me to remember just how much I love Him.

And my sacrifice is not what You can give
but what I alone can give to You

And today I bring a sacrifice of thanksgiving that, even though the honey-tongued viper has struck, I will remember how good You are, I will remember why I'm here, I will remember how much I love You...because You first loved me. I am so thankful for the sacrifice You made to show me that love.

To You I shall offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving, and call upon the name of the LORD.
~Psalm 116:17

The Lord is my...

We were studying the Psalms, and when it came to Psalm 23 I was set. I knew this one by heart. David wrote it about how God always took care of him and refreshed him, dot dot dot. But then it hit me: David was a shepherd himself. Big deal. No no no, what I mean is he KNEW what he was saying about God...and himself.

He knew what sheep were like. He knew how stupid they could be, he knew how weak and helpless they were, he knew that they were easily distracted and painfully stubborn, remarkably silly and horribly unassuming. He saw daily the incessant shortcomings of the sheep he faithfully tended, and in those long days on the hillside he saw something of himself in his flock. He saw his weaknesses, his stubbornness, his utter stupidity sometimes...and he saw his desperate need for the Shepherd's crook to be a guide, a protection, and a comfort.

As I thought about David and his absolute humility in writing this psalm, I looked for a parallel in my own life. This is what I found.

...preschool teacher
based on Ms. Wauer's 2-year-old class at Shenandoah Valley Early Learning Center

Kiaya: the rebel - she bit, she hit, she stripped her clothes off every chance she got, and she climbed the playground fences in multiple escape attempts

Tyler: the absolutely precious-looking and completely misleading little hellian - always willing to disobey as long as someone was doing it with her

Chase: the unruly biter of the group, hitting and throwing himself down and banging his head on the concrete floor in tantrums, but would always look ashamed and remorseful after the fact

Nathaniel: the loner - he wanted to do everything his own way and would keep his eyes intently on you while he disobeyed to see how far he could get before being stopped

Jessica: the three-year-old who was still in the class because she couldn't quite speak the language yet (she was from Mexico) - sweet girl, but if there was trouble happening, she was very involved. she didn't want to be left out of the fun

Gia: the phenomenally articulate (she spoke even better than the 3's) and exceptionally strong little booger - she could not sit still and would not obey if her life depended on it - but she always ended her shenanigans with "Sorry, Teacher."

Justin: the one who was desperate for affirmation that he was doing it "right" - "You all need to sit down and be quiet." "Teacher, am I sitting down and being quiet?"

Grace: the aptly named little baby doll - she was quiet but giggly, was willing to play alone but would ask for some company, ate her lunch, took her naps, actually remembered the purpose of the bathroom, and LOVED storytime

The Lord is my preschool teacher. He watches me bite and kick the other kids. He stands over me when I refuse to lie down for rest, when I try to escape, when I constantly try to strip off my righteousness, when I disobey as much as possible before getting caught. Although I'm an "older" believer I still don't really know how to speak rightly, and I'm in constant and selfish need of affirmation. I know how to talk the talk, but I can't sit still for my life and when all is said and done I always rely on "Sorry, Teacher." I have my tantrums and I'm perfectly willing to get into trouble as long as I'm not alone in it. *sigh* To be like Grace.

But His patience never fails. His punishments are well-deserved but always loving. After all the fits and battles and bruises He always says, "I love you, I'll see you tomorrow."

"The Lord is My Preschool Teacher"
The Lord is my preschool teacher, I shall not want.
He makes me lie down and rest,
he keeps me from danger with rules and boundaries,
he restores my soul.
He teaches me new ideas and songs for His Name's sake.
Even though everyone I love leaves me alone,
I will not be afraid, because You never leave me;
Your voice and Your hands, they comfort me.

The Lord is my preschool teacher. Who is God to you?