Notes of Exhaustion.

Finally made it home, kids.
To heat, to overgrown gardens, to laundry, to newly engaged friends, to great news from other friends, to business, to time demands, to familiar sights, to the usual.
It’s cool; I like my usual.
But, in all honesty, I am exhausted. Exhausted not because my body is tired, but exhausted because my mind keeps reeling and asking myself, “What just happened to me???!” And how in the world am I going to reconcile my last month to “the usual”? Because I know, even though I don’t know in what way yet, that “the usual” no longer exists.
Which taxes my brains and emotions just thinking about it. I feel like I have nothing left to give. No energy to let Jesus rock my world and still be able to form a complete sentence at the end of it. And why does my usual need to change, sometimes I wonder? Didn’t I just say I was cool with my usual?

Oh, did I mention I came home to kittens?

That’s right.
Wild kittens.
And, considering the small size of the little dears, they are proving to be way more difficult to tame than originally anticipated. I mean, I spent like an hour pretending my hand was a mouse trying to get them to come to me.
No way. And I don't even like cats.
I finally ended up just grabbing one of them; he was not thrilled.

And as I sat there, in the heat and overgrown hydrangea bush, trying to entice the little guys, I thought, “Wow, I am just like one of these stupid cats and God is just like me.”

I mean, all I want to do is pet the kitten. I want to give it a little treat every now and again, but most importantly, I want to teach them to not get run over by my car; I am trying to make their life better.

And all they want to do is fight me and bite my hand.

Are they exhausted like me?

Probably not; they’re kittens. (Don’t they sleep like 19 hours a day?) But by the way I felt their little hearts pumping furiously as I was holding them against me, I could tell they were terrified.
Which, maybe that’s me, too.

Do you ever fear what God wants to do in your life? How he wants to change things? How he wants to tame you to his touch?

I think I do. I understand the wild-ness. I understand the security you can feel in being untouched, unmoved, in not letting things affect you.

If I am not careful I can want to stay there. Whether I stay there consciously, or just want to stay there because I am exhausted and frankly not up to the challenge, I can’t let my fear of a “new usual” keep me in my current state, my current lifestyle. Because Jesus wants me to be affected. He wants things to touch my heart and change my preconceived notions and, as one of my favorite phrases goes, he wants to “rattle the cage a little bit.”

And I need to trust him. He has never done anything that proves he is not faithful, that proves he is not out for my good, that proves he has harm for me in mind. If Jesus wants to change things, I need to let him do it. He might be taming me to keep me out of some harm’s way, you know? Just like how I want to keep those little dears away from my tires. Or, he might just want to tame me because tame things trust that only good things come from the hands of the One who tamed them.

~~~

Here. Have some pictures.

Oh what's up, Jordan River?! You are smaller than I expected. Just like everything.

Hi food-from-Not-America. I'm in love.

Jezreel Valley. Armageddon. Where Jesus is going to come back and just rock the joint.

Nazareth with the bro.

An olive press. A gethsemane, if you will.

You've never seen an unattractive Israeli? Yeah, me neither. Oh that's right, they don't exist. (No, this is not the clothing they wear today. Israel is super modern).

Recreation of a first-century synagogue at the Nazareth Village.

Tziry.

Religion is a wall.

From New York to Tel Aviv I sat next to a lovely, young Orthodox (Jewish) woman on the plane who was very cordial. I was ecstatic because she was very willing to talk to me about her life and religion and how, I quickly came to find out, they are the same thing.

Her name was Tziry (pronounced like Siri—the woman who talks to you on your iPhone) and she was from an Orthodox neighborhood in New York City. And there is nothing in her life that is not Orthodox.

In chatting it was made very clear that in her life no entertainment, music, book, food, neighborhood, education, language, relationship, Saturday, birth of her child, wedding, death, job, or hobby is not Orthodox. Nothing.

She was open to share it with me, talk to me about it. She answered all my questions. Obviously, I was enthralled.

She was touched that I respected her religion the way I do, and I was able to share a little bit about why I believe the New Testament even though she does not.

But still there was a wall. Unlike some people I have met on flights with where both of us leave with email addresses and phone numbers and websites, it was obvious to me from about 5 minutes in that Tziry and I were not going to be friends.

Our relationship would not continue. I would never know HER, I would only know how she lives. It’s not the same. I would never know her real stories, all the things that happen when no one is asking her to give an account of her beliefs, I would only know what she is trained to tell the world about “her people.” It’s not the same. I would never know if deep down there were doubts; if deep down she prayed and hoped that all she was doing was right.

Why? Because there was a wall there. A wall intentionally placed there to not only keep me out, but to keep her in.

The wall that was there was a wall in between us. A wall that she seemingly had no desire to move, even though I wished with everything I had that I could bulldoze the whole thing.

I left the flight more knowledgeable, yes. Grateful to her for the honesty I got. But a little disheartened.

I didn’t want to know just Tziry-the-Orthodox-Woman, I wanted to know Tziry, the woman who happens to be Orthodox.

And herein lies the great divide: I thought the two could be separated. I thought “Tziry, the woman who happens to be Orthodox” was an actual entity.

But I was wrong.

Why was I wrong? Because I am an American and don’t understand things about the rest of the world.

See, the concept of separating who you are from your religion is a concept that, frankly, from what I understand, only happens in the west. It only happens in the Roman world.

Years ago I read something by Ravi Zacharias, the Indian apologist, who said something along the lines of the reason American and western Christians are the least devoted Christians anywhere in the world is because true Christianity doesn’t make sense to them. American and western Christians don’t realize that Christianity is an Eastern religion and therefore they try to view the Bible through western eyes, and are subsequently confused over the simplest of concepts.

The simple concept I clearly was not understanding which is exemplified in my belief that I could separate Tziry from her Orthodoxy is the same concept a lot of western Christians seem to have no handle on whatsoever. Paul stated it best: “To live is Christ.”

Here in the west, myself included, we kind of wrinkle our nose a bit and go, “I don’t get it….”

To live is Christ? No no no. To live is jobs and house and hobbies and family and weekends and friends and SportsCenter and Keeping Up With The Joneses and fame and food and clothes and wealth and health and knowledge and religion and environmental responsibility and blah and blah and blah.
That’s what we think. We think life is made up of a lot of things, all different facets of life, sub-categories of life.

Like this.

But that’s not what they think in the East.

That’s not what my airplane neighbor thinks, that’s not how she lives her life.
To her, to live is Orthodoxy. Rather than “Life” up in the top box, the word “Orthodoxy” is up there.
And jobs and houses and hobbies and families and weekends and friends and food and entertainment and clothes and money and health and education and whatever else blah constitutes life are all sub-categories of orthodoxy.

Does that make sense?

So, when Paul goes off and says what we in the west think is some revolutionary concept, “To live is Christ,” it’s not a new concept to them at all. It’s just a transfer of affection. Whereas a lot of those people used to be “To live is Judaism” or “To live is Zealot,” or “To live is Etc.,” now it was just a transfer. Now it was, “To live is Christ.”

Because they were Eastern people. To them, if they were “religious” there had never been some separation of church from culture, church from state, church from business, church from relationship, church from eating habits, church from entertainment, church from money.

The East doesn’t separate those things.

And I am going to go out on a limb here and say the East doesn’t separate those things because they understand that those things cannot be separated. In the West, we are under some delusion that they can be. We (wrongly) believe that not everything is connected. We think you CAN separate church (Jesus) from job, church (Jesus) from entertainment, church (Jesus) from relationships, etc. etc. etc. When, really, I am starting to think that if there is an aspect in my life, in your life, where Jesus is not, where there is a separation of Church (Jesus) and (Fill in the blank) then Jesus is probably not the name in the top box.

See, whatever you worship is whatever is in that box.

Think about it. Do you worship money? If you do, then you will pick your job based on how much money you can make, your house based on showing how much money you have, your politics on what will allow you to make and keep more money, your hobbies on how much money it will cost you, your education on the best your money can buy, your religion on what will make you give the least, your friends based on the social circle your money gets you into.

What about worshiping your body? You will plan your weekends around how active you can make your body, your food will be chosen to give you a toned body, your clothing will be selected to show off your body, you will demand beautiful bodies from your family and probably only associate with people who feel the same way about their bodies as you do about yours.

Is this concept resonating with anyone?

See, the East is way more “religious” than the West. Over there, if someone is religious then whatever religion they are is in their your box. All their sub-categories, then, are propelled by that, which is why you cannot separate the culture from the religion; their religion is their way of life. It has seeped into the most minute details of their life; I mean, it’s even the deciding factor to how they buy groceries (literally), or—get this—they don’t even press elevator buttons on Saturday because they practice Sabbath. No joke, this is serious business to these people.

So, I didn’t make any Orthodox friends on my trip. I know, I’m disappointed too.

But I think I got into their mind a little bit; which gets me more into the mind of Christ (because he was JEWISH, but more on that later).
And now I am going to reevaluate my grocery list.
Because I want Jesus in that top box so that he changes all the other little boxes. I want “to live is Christ” to be my reality.

Peace, Peace.

Hi babies!!
How goes it?! Long time no talk to! Did you enjoy hearing from a fellow Wolfie (and one of my besties?!)?? I saw both posts when I was across the pond and was glad to know you were in good hands!
I am back from the Middle East just two days now and my body still does not want to succumb to time-zone transition! Ah! Needless to say, I am sleeping like a baby:
Up at 10:00, 2:00, and 4:00. And then wanting naps.
: )

Wow. I have been out of the country quite a bit in my 20-something years, but Israel is just….so…not like the rest of the world.

It is so…..not Roman.
Not Western.

Seriously.

But it is fantastic. My mind was blown and I have so much to tell you! But in my current exhaustion, all of my thoughts seem to be still jumbled and I don't have the foggiest idea of where to start or what to tell you first.

So while I wait to figure out what I want to say, have some pictures!

For those who want to know--this is what Israel looks like from the air.

 

First-morning-Sea-of-Galilee-in-the-background-Selfie.

Oh Israeli olives, I wish I could buy you here.

Where Jesus gave the Sermon on the Mount! Whoa.

Sea of Galilee from Sermon on the Mount spot!

Add caption

Synagogue at Capernaum

On a boat on the Sea of Galilee. I may or may not have tried to walk on water.

Wadi Hamman, where the Zealots carved houses and caves into the side of cliffs.

Close-up. Now that is dedication to your beliefs, Wolfies.

In between these two hills is a little path called the Via Maris. This is a road that Jesus walked a lot if he was going from the north (Galilee territories down to Jerusalem, etc.). This place was legit.

So, there are some pictures for you to start with. More to come, don’t you worry.

I suppose I do know what I could say right now.

It is obvious when you are there to feel the tension. Groups of people still at war, after thousands of years. It’s a spiritual war. Period. Always has been and will continue to be until Jesus comes again and makes it all right once and for all.

And it’s a war between religions; religions that ignore the Christ. Some of them are waiting for him, others are waiting for someone else. Regardless of which camp they are in, they don’t know Jesus.

Which is why they war; it’s why they fight. It’s why there is no peace.

At the beginning of most of the Epistles there is a little line that I have never paid much attention to; it’s never made much sense. Until now.

“Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.”

It’s a nice greeting, that’s what I always thought.

And that’s what I would have continued to feel, no doubt, unless I went there and felt the tension.

The lack of peace.

Unless I went and saw those religions that war, those religions that, well, that don’t have grace and peace to offer.

Grace comes from a God who gives us a Salvation we don’t deserve, and peace comes when you are in right standing with God.

Nothing else outside of Jesus gives you that.

Grace and Peace. Those are not found commodities. Works-based religions can’t offer you that.

Instead of grace they say, “You will be rewarded or cursed for what you have done; now get your act together; do not make your God angry.”

Instead of peace they having striving. They have no rest in the arms of a God who came to reconcile a people who can’t save themselves; a people who fail every time.

See, it’s not just a nice greeting. It’s a revolutionary theology. Grace, which they had never known, and peace, which they cannot attain, be yours.

Salvation came, Wolfies. Our Messiah has come. We don’t need to war, against ourselves or others. He has come.

With grace and peace in his hands.

Rest in what is accomplished that you couldn’t do yourself.

Love you all. Thanks for being a blessing in my life.

Eyeball Stamping ~ a guest post from a wolfie

Our B is still traveling. And so once again, this is a guest post from a wolfie. With another cute picture of us.

------

It was a quiet weekend. Actually – it was a quiet week. Real quiet.

Wolf Queen B is off in the land of text-less-ness for a time. My other daily texter is at an intense music ministry camp…my older sister and her fam on vacation in Colorado.

Yes. It’s been quiet.

Except of course for my three clocks, all doing their little tick-tock thing around me. This would drive my little sister T crazy. But I kind of love it.

Speaking of Little T - she moves to her own apartment in a new city in just a couple of days.  Being the expert at living alone now (9 days strong) – I gave her a few bits of advice. Probably the most helpful bit was about baking cookies. When one is living alone – only bake the number of cookies you should eat in one sitting. I sorely wish someone had given me such advice; I’m just so grateful I didn’t bake the entire package at once.

Today at work, a resident was sharing the new stage of life she’s been adjusting to for the first time in her life, with her husband of 50+ years passing away. You guessed it: living alone. And so she and I find ourselves, strangely…in almost the same exact boat. Living on our own for the first times in our lives.

That kind of blows my mind.

And yet the bit that was the hardest slap in the face today was how temporarily I’ve considered this chapter of my life. The living alone part, that is. And in all honesty, it probably is temporary to some extent. Maybe I’ll live by myself for the next many a-year, but I kind of doubt it. If and when the time comes for a vow of “till death do us part,” however, that doesn’t guarantee the living alone chapter is forever closed. I'm not trying to sound insensitive here at all. But...people die.

I’ll never forget when the genealogy in Genesis 5 suddenly made more sense to me. “You shall surely die” (Gen. 2:17b) was being fulfilled. “…Thus all the days that Adam lived were 930 years, and he died.” (Gen. 5:5) Yessirree. Adam? Died. Seth? Died. And he died…and he died…and he died…

But that’s not the end of the story.

Jesus has overcome. And the grave is overwhelmed. The victory is won.
He is risen from the dead.
(I Will Rise – Chris Tomlin)

“Death is swallowed up in victory.
O death, where is your victory?
O death, where is your sting?” (I Cor. 15:54b-55)

One of my favorite Jonathan Edwards quotes I’ve had hanging up in my bedroom for years says “Oh God, stamp eternity on my eyeballs!” This past week I was reflecting on that yet again…when a sense of peace came over me with an assurance of, “I am.”

Our everyday mission at work is being a part of “inspiring seniors to celebrate life.” Yet once again, I am the one inspired. To celebrate Life. Thank you, Lord, for stamping my eyeballs once again with eternity.

~ a wolfie

House Days ~ a guest post from a wolfie

As our B is off on quite another adventure…she has given me the honor of posting some thoughts here. So, here there are. Thoughts from a wolfie named B ----

And here's a picture of us - because it's cute.

Houses have been on the mind of late. Well…maybe I should say more frequently of late. Because, who am I kidding? Houses have almost always been on the mind. I clearly remember as a 9-year old child when my parents were planning an addition to our house, I sat through every meeting they had with the architect. I loved poring over the floor plan idea books/magazines mom brought home, imagining myself in each house. I spent hours that way.

Well, 18 years have passed since then. And some things never change: I still love houses.

Over the last 3 years, I’ve had the opportunity to live in a lot of different places. And when I say a lot, I mean…a lot. On average, I have found myself in a new place every 6 months or so in these three years. And when I say “place,” that’s because no other word seems quite appropriate. Even “building” does not quite fit, for that would exclude my months in the trailer and weeks in the bus.

Most recently I found myself looking for yet another dwelling place, as I have started a new job in a new city. I actually just moved in to the new place this past weekend. Though an actual house is still a dream for some day, an apartment remains the reality right now. And that's ok. I am truly blessed to be here.

Ironically, my new job is about housing too. Actually, senior living continuum care. Yes, that’s right – housing for seniors. The majority of our residents are in independent housing, yet when they can no longer live entirely on their own, apartment-style assisted living at times becomes necessity.

One of my favorite residents came into my office today for a chat. As I saw him heading for my door, I asked him, “Hi Bob. Are you coming to chat with me?” He replied, “Well, I suppose so. But I don’t know what we will chat about.” Adorable. There need not have been any worries there. We could have talked for hours. He is 94 years old and absolutely fascinating. Today he was sharing with me about the different places he had lived in his life, and this reality struck me:

House days cannot be an end all.
Because, they’re not lasting. At all.

As I have looked forward to my house days, these folks…are past their "house days." And…back in an apartment. It was a bit disconcerting to me, honestly. One of those "WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE???" moments.

But then...I remembered. House Days are yet before us. And enjoying houses is not a bad thing at all. 

“In my Father’s house are many rooms...” (Jn. 14:2a)

I’d like to see the floor plan of this one!!

“…if it were not so would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.” (Jn. 14:2b-3)

House days are indeed in front of us.

And you know what? It won’t be a pack-your-boxes-every-6-months-kind-of-thing. Because it will be forever. And forever is a long time.

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever.” (Ps. 23:6)

Yes. Forever is a long time. 

So wherever you may live - enjoy it! It is a blessing! But also remember - it's not the end all. Nope - that's still coming.

~ a wolfie

Picture.

Whenever I am out west I am fortunate enough to stay in lovely homes (because you and I and Jesus all know that I love lovely homes and Jesus makes it happen, let me tell you).
At this one particular house there is a large picture window. And outside of that picture window is a mountain.
A big mountain.
Like the kind I am terrified to climb.

But one thing about the west that is unlike where I am from is that the clouds sometimes hang REALLY low.
Where I am from, they are big and huge and high in the sky and don’t block my line of vision.
Like this.

 

That is not what they are like out west.
This is what they are like:

 

They shroud.

There is something all cuddly and snuggly about them and they make me want to curl up under a blanket and drink cocoa, regardless of the fact that it is July or August or something and I should not be under a blanket with cocoa.

More typically than not, however, is that they are kind of annoying and I want them to go away.
I don’t want to be bundled up drinking cocoa when it’s not November. Or January. Or Christmas.

The real issue, though, is that I want to see what they are blocking.

I want to see the mountains.

And not just half of the mountains, like this.

 

No.
I want to see all of the mountains, like this.

 

 

But alas. This is sometimes all I can see. And I don’t like it.

 Because it’s not the whole picture.

Then I realized that more often than not this is how I feel about my life.
I don’t want to see base camp, I don’t want to see clouds, I don’t want to see a few trees, a few jagged crags. I want to see all of it. Give me all the details, give me all the adventure, give me all the mystery, I want to know what it looks like and I want to sketch it out in a journal.

Is this resonating with anyone else? This sometimes-it-feels-like-constant annoyance that the only part of your life that you might have figured out doesn’t make sense with the rest of your life?

Like, you know there is a mountain in here somewhere, but you just can’t see it.

You know there is a grand beautiful plan that will make all of this make sense, but you have got absolutely no visual on what in the world this is going to look like; how any of this random, fringe kind of stuff all works together for great good.
You know there is a big picture. It just eludes you.

I was reading a while back, and I think I mentioned it, but I came across this verse in Habakkuk that said “His were the everlasting ways.” (Hab 3:6).

The pondering of this makes me feel small. Makes me feel so NOT everlasting. I had a beginning, I have not been from before the beginning like he has. I am terribly mortal and fragile and as Francis Schaeffer would say “a glorious ruin.” I cannot see the big picture. Goodness sakes I can’t even see it for my own personal life, let alone for YOUR life and how all of this somehow works together.

While thinking all these abstruse thoughts, this picture came into my head and I think it conveys, at least to me, why in the world I feel the way I do about this situation, why I am frustrated that I can’t see the whole picture. Why I can’t see how my life makes any difference; is connected to all the rest of it.

Imagine that this picture is the world. All of its trappings, from all of its times passed and times to come, every human being with all of their stories and heartaches and tragedies and blessings and favor and disobedience and faithfulness. This is how all of that works together.

But….but….this is your life.

This is my life.

 

Wait a second, what?

Where did that come from?

 Right there.

Now you see it, don’t you?

But why couldn’t we see it before?

Because, Wolfies, ours are not the everlasting ways. We don’t have eyes big enough to see all of it. Our lives do not encompass the whole scope of the universe. We don’t get to see the big picture while on this earth, because that’s not our job. We did not design this, we do not hold it all together, we are not the Finisher.

That’s what HE does.

He has his role, we have ours. They are not the same.

Sure, sure, we can mope about this; we can think we are miniscule, small, like maybe our non-everlasting-ways life doesn’t make a difference in anything.

I beg to differ, though. And I think he does, too.

Pieces cannot be removed and still have a complete story.

Our life doesn’t make sense to us because all we see is the green foliage. All we see is the little cave. And we can’t figure out what lies beyond our life.

To use the old analogy, we can’t see the forest, just the trees.

We are not from everlasting to everlasting. Ours are the finite ways. But all of our little finite stories, all of our lives that started sometime yet somehow reach into eternity, they are a part of the bigger story.

Take heart, babies. I promise you that if you are in Christ, your life is indeed a piece of the beautiful final picture.
Even when we can’t see it. Even when we can’t figure out our own little corner of it.