Deep.

Lately:



You see that red line, right? And no, it's not broken.

Winter's chill brings out my closet's finest offerings: I love fur coats.

I decided I wanted a new bag. So I made a new bag.

Who do I think I am? A woman of 5-feet-9-inches when barefoot, and I go and get these for Christmas? And then proceed to parade around my house for days on end wearing these....

One of my sweet sister in laws got me this sweet grey nail polish for Christmas. And it doesn't seem to wear off. Which is a great news..

Tincture: Orange wedges, chunks of ginger root, agave or honey. Drink with hot water. Eating the orange peel along with the fruit and ginger? Optional. But suggested! I can't get enough :)

You know, it never ceases to amaze me how the Holy Spirit can lead you to a scripture you have read literally hundreds of times and all of the sudden—BAM! You understand something which had previously eluded you.

This weekend it was Psalm 42.

Go read it.

Now, about this time last year I wrote you a cute little series entitled “Living Water" so I am not really sure why water is becoming the New Year’s week trend, but, alas….there are many things I am not really sure of. Add it to the list.

That being said, I think I always thought about this passage in the context of water before. As in, our soul is thirsty. Thirsty like how our bodies get when we don’t have enough water.

Which. That is entirely true.

Trust me, I have no intention of changing all your glorious thoughts over that song we sang and sang and sang in the 90’s.

“As the deer panteth for the water, so my soul longeth after thee!!!”
(I am belting this out in my studio right now. You should be glad you are not here)

But it struck me last night that, while, yes, we understand the concept of soul-thirst because we understand the concept of body-thirst, hence the reason they use that analogy, has it ever occurred to you that David might be talking about souls in GENERAL, not necessarily HIS??

Because, let’s be honest. A lot of times I feel like my soul is thirsting for something else. And I can read that and think “Oh my gosh, I am a terrible Christian: my soul is not thirsting ‘after thee’—I wish it was! But really, I seem to have a hankering right now for __fill in the blank_____ instead.”

I know I am not talking to a brick wall right now.

I know some of you know what I am talking about.
That nagging feeling that you don’t love Jesus enough because all your mind and senses is telling you right now is that you actually want something else.
And you feel like you shouldn’t feel that way.

Well, here is what I have to tell you. Don’t feel guilty!! It’s not that you love Jesus too little and that’s why you want something else!
It’s simply that you can’t read your desires.
You don’t know what your desires are actually telling you.
Because you think that you are desiring—(and by “desire” I mean that deep longing which you feel inside you, a longing you may not even be able to name for truly, our desires are deeper than our language--), let’s say….wealth. A spouse. A best friend. To be understood. To stand out. To not be seen. Power. For your honor to be defended.
You get the idea.
Whatever is in you that gnaws away until it penetrates like a driving December wind.

And we put those words to it: wealth, spouse, confidante, beauty.

Whatever.
That’s what we are convinced we desire.

But.

But, I don’t really think that’s what the Bible says…..

Could it be?

Is it possible we have been wrong all these years?

“My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.”

See, I don’t really think our souls desire that laundry list of external things. True, our sinful nature may want some of those things, I won’t argue with that.

But our soul?
That penetrating desire?

Say that line outloud: “My soul thirsts for God.”

That, Wolfies, I believe is the truth.

Your soul wants God. And God alone.

Why? Because back in Eden it had him.
He was the soul’s first love.
And your soul misses him. Wants him back. It’s desire is for him.
Your soul thirsts for God.
Your flesh may want other things and you know what? You may get them. But they do not satisfy you.

They do not quench your thirst.

If our souls desired external things, then we could satiate ourselves with external things. We could, therefore, also put a name on all of our desires. We could pinpoint them, we could write them down.

But desires? Desires that are only fulfilled in God?

I fear our language doesn’t begin to understand that, articulate that.

A clue to this is seen just 4 verses later.

"Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me.”

Is David lost at sea when he wrote this?

No.

But what is deeper than the ocean? More powerful than a tsunami?

What is deeper and more powerful than all your desires?

The beckoned answer for both of those is, “nothing.”

See, I think David knew the truth. His soul—your soul, my soul, every soul that has ever walked this earth—thirsts only for God.

And the deep recesses where your soul resides, that we can’t seem to articulate? All the hidden parts of you that speak as from the bottom of the ocean?

It’s the deep calling the Deep.

Because the deep of us calls only to God.

Not so brilliant.

So I had this brilliant intention to write you this brilliant post a few days before Christmas about how sometimes Christmas isn’t something we look forward to, but then I was overwhelmed by my “brilliant” idea to not do any Christmas shopping for gift-making supplies until two days before I left for Christmas.
Which, of course, means that I didn’t start doing any of that gift-making until the day before I left.
Needless to say, but I will say it still, and I am sure you noticed, I didn’t write you the brilliant post I brilliantly intended to.
But my gifts that DID get made (Huzzah!) were….you guessed it….brilliant.

That being said, in all of my no-Christmas-spirit this year, I didn’t take one single picture of the festivities with my family. But it looked pretty much the same as last year. So you can read this and refresh your memory : )

Another thing to note about Christmas, actually, something to note about any time I am gone from my house for longer than one feeding time, is that the moment I walk back into my house I feel this brute desire to eat an entire head of lettuce in one sitting.

Which is ridiculous. Nevertheless, it happens. And nevertheless, I am looking to see what growing zone I live in to see if my yard is compatible with my ravenous desire for green leafy vegetables.

But see, my immediate family has this tradition that on Christmas Eve we basically gorge ourselves on appetizers. The entire meal—nothing but hors d’oeuvres. Crab dip, cocktail meatballs, 6 different kinds of assorted cheeses, all different kinds of sausages, stuffed mushrooms, garlic cheese bread, taco dip, this is not the end of the list, veggie pizza, baked brie, pigs-in-a-blanket, deep fried mozzarella sticks, and then to finish it off we have trays and trays of Amish Christmas candy and bowls of trail mix and dessert popcorn.

And don’t forget birthday cake for Jesus.

Excessive much?

I couldn’t agree more. But it’s pretty much the only tradition we have for any time of the year (well there is this other traditional family meal that, if we are all together in the summer, we make. How is my entire family life centered around food?). And even though I made this deal with myself to only take ONE of each thing, which I succeeded in, it still was more food than I needed—and forget needed—it was more food than I wanted to eat all week.

But now you see then how my eating an entire head of lettuce doesn’t seem so out of place.

Anyway, I am home again for a few days and thus you get a blog post. But I have this resolution and I will tell it to you before the first of the year: To blog at least 6 times a month.
Wolfies! That is so exciting! You will be hearing from me so often! And I really have lots of great tid-bits ruminating in my mind, from things like inheritance, to everlasting loves, to why women in France don't gain weight, to a discussion on gender, to, no doubt, me regaling you with all kinds of adventurous tales that involve no less than God's plans that surprised me out of the blue and probably a segment on imported scarves and Teddy Roosevelt or Julia Child.
Now how is that for an, albeit, belated “Merry Christmas” to you?!?!
Stay tuned : )

Sorry this was all so random.

I think the truth of the matter is that right now I feel like my brain and my life are running all over the place and I am rendered powerless to say, “No.”

And, can I tell you, it’s paralyzing.

Does anyone else struggle with this? This almost inability to say “No”?
And what is it? Is it this fear of being left out? Of missing the boat? Of not being in the right place at the right time? Of not being in the house that has the “open doors”? Of disobeying God?

I have no idea, for frankly, I haven’t had time to think about it.

And I can have the best intentions to remain totally calm and keep my mind organized and get up when my alarm goes off and not drink so much coffee and lean on Him for continual peace and say, “No, I am sorry I can’t help you with that,” but then…well…then I see the need. Or then I see the benefit that XYZ will bring to someone who needs a benefit. And then my sometimes-I-fear-too-hard-of-a-heart starts to really feel some semblance of compassion for someone or whatever and, before I can decline my third serving of coffee I have said, “Yes, I would love to help you. And while you’re at it, pour me another cup.”

It’s this constant battle in me between the world’s need and my daily, necessary life.

And, sorry. I have no brilliant words of wisdom pertaining to this issue tonight.

Because…well… I hadn’t even thought I was going to write this until I sat down.
But all I can think to leave you with is this: God knows. God knows what you should do. He knows what you should say “Yes” to and what we most definitely should say “No” to.
If there is one thing I know it is that God is a talker. He loves to talk. He will talk.
If we are still enough to listen.

Love you, Wolfies. A belated Merry Christmas to you.

Here with us.

Well, try as I might, I am not in the Christmas spirit.
Though my house be bedecked with all manner of holidazzle, though the Day is very nearly on my doorstep, though I ate 4 decorated sugar cookies TODAY alone, and though I am listening to more Sarah McLaughin Christmas and Joy William’s ‘Here with us,’ I still have no gifts made or purchased (and might just skip it this year, for the record), I am hosting no parties at my house, and I feel no typical emotional bubblings of mirth and merriment.

Call me Scrooge.

Or Grinch.
Whatever.

My mind is elsewhere, I suppose.

And while I don’t want to put a damper on YOUR Christmas spirit, if you have it, when I try to think about Christmas, this year all I can think about is Jerusalem.

And how it looks nothing like Christmas.

And how it doesn’t snow there except maybe in the mountains.
And how Christmas trees don’t grow there.

Blah. The downside of seeing with your very own eyes? Ruined mental pictures.

And since this year my mind will not accept images of snow in the manger, I try to picture Mary and Joseph and the Savior baby that came, all bundled into a barn that looks nothing like Christmas…and I find myself selfishly praying that I never experience a Christmas like that first Christmas Mary went through.

I mean, yeah, there were angels…which would be cool…and there were shepherds that came out of nowhere…which would be kind of intrusive maybe in her state?...and there was a Baby you loved  with everything….a Baby who would love her more than she would ever love him.

But…in spite of all of that, and though God had said this was He who was going to save the people from their sins, was this her Christmas wish come true?

Why do I feel like it was not?

Why do I feel like, in spite of it being the very birth of incarnate God, it wasn’t quite what she would have wanted for Christmas?

Funny enough, if I try to image myself in her shoes, I think I would be praying.

Praying for God to be there. I mean, what else would there be to do in the face of a future so uncertain and a reality already riddled so heavily with scorn and suspicion?

Though He had called her blessed, though the angel had said don’t be afraid, though she was being a prophecy fulfilled, all I think I would have wanted at that point would to be to know that God was with me; that he still saw me, that he was going to be “at my right hand” through all the skepticism from others I would bear my whole life for being “that girl” that got pregnant before she got married in a culture that stoned women who did that.

I would need him to walk with me through the reputation that came with bearing the Lord. I would need him with me. Today, in the barn, and every day after.

Because, though she knew her baby was the Lord, not all accepted that. And being his mom was going to be a lonely road.

Hmmm….

And maybe that’s Christmas; maybe the pattern for the season was set some 2,000 years ago in a smelly barn:

The admitting that we need Someone.

Someone to walk us through this life sometimes so wrought with scorn and skepticism and people whispering behind your back. Or a life that sometimes can feel like all your plans have changed and nothing has gone according to plan. Or even a life where all is beautiful all the time.
The admitting that, just like the new mom who was probably praying to not be alone, what we need more than anything…is God with us.

I guess then, since it goes without saying that her life had not gone QUITE like she most likely wanted it to, I guess that she did get her Christmas wish: she had God with her.

Her answered prayer.

Can you imagine? Being the deliverer of all the answers to your prayers? Of all the world’s prayers? Delivering what you needed most? So desperately?

 

Wow.

It says a couple times in “the Christmas story” that Mary treasured things in her heart.

Maybe that was one of the things she treasured; the realization that her God answered her prayer. He was there.
Closer than she had probably never dared to pray he be.

 

Right there.

 

In that barn.

Wrapped in those swaddling cloths.

Laying in a food trough.

Right before her very eyes.

All she would ever need and the answer to all prayer: God with her.

Though all would bow.

Saturday was Pearl Harbor Day.
December 7th. The day that was slated to live in infamy.

Can you believe it was only 72 years ago? Not very long at all.

And all of the sudden it makes it pretty obvious how the Israelites kept complaining in the desert, doesn't it? Typically I read that story and go, "Are you serious? How in the world are you saying this to the God who just delivered you from Pharaoh and all his Egyptian army, you dirty, no-good, misfit bunch of complaining, whining, ungrateful, forgetful babies."

But then December 7th comes and maybe---maybe---I remember.

But sometimes not.

Just like the Israelites. They didn't remember either. In spite of how God said to them over and over again, "Remember, remember, remember."

But humans tend to forget to remember.

Saturday, though, I remembered.
And Sunday I remembered.
And all day today? I remembered.

Couldn't stop remembering.

Those pictures kept flooding through my eyes, almost as if they were in motion like the way a memory would be in motion, but it wasn't a memory: I wasn't there. How did it feel like I had been there?

In spite of the fact that my parents weren't even born when that happened all those not-so-many-years-ago, let alone myself, all weekend it has haunted me.

And those hauntings made me think of war in general. That war in particular.

The one we joined after Pearl Harbor.
You know, the one my grandfather fought in.
The one he got all those Silver Stars and Purple Hearts for.
The one he blazed all over France and North Africa and Italy for.
The one he wished he didn't remember.
But what was it all for again?

Are we forgetful? Ungrateful? Do we remember?

Oh that's right.

Because men like this guy exist in the world:

And men like him create armies like this:

Who do this to a lot of women:

I have had the privilege in my life to have met, not one, but two German women who had been Hitler Youths during WWII.

Their stories are...insane.

From things they were forced to do, to concentration camps they ended up escaping from, to city streets they ran through as bullets were being shot at them from planes above, to the angel that laid on top of them in a road so the bomb that exploded right by them wouldn't leave a scratch.

I'm not kidding.

 And their crazier than fiction real life stories bring things like war and terrible dictators and people on power trips to a whole new level of real.

Do you ever wonder how those terrible people of the world--the Hitler's of the world--exist, or get to be the way they are?

It's easy for me to scoff at them the same way I do at the Wandering Israelites.
Really though,  is there anything in my scoffing other than me claiming I could never be like them?
No. That's exactly what I am doing. I am turning my nose up and saying to them and all dictators: "You disgust me. I'm so glad I am not like you."

And sure, I am not a dictator.

But could I be?

I shudder.

I know it's true.

There is this musician I listen to named Dustin Kensrue, and he has a song called "It's Not Enough."

A haunting song. One completely infiltrated with word-pictures I don't want to see. Because it's like they are memories. Moving through my mind.

And some of them are in fact memories.
And some...some are current realities.

Realities that scare me.

Scare me because I don't want to recognize them. I don't want to acknowledge they still exist in me. I should be past all that, shouldn't I?

Here are the lyrics: And listen to it here.

"Though all the wealth of men was mine to squander
And towers of ivory rose beneath my feet
Were palaces of pleasure mine to wander
The sum of it would leave me incomplete
Though every soul would hold my name in honor
And truest love was always by my side
My praises sung by grateful sons and daughters
My soul would never still be satisfied

It's not enough, it's not enough
I could walk the world forever
Till my shoes were filled with blood
It's not enough, it's not enough
Though I could live for all to lift them higher
Or spend the centuries seeking light within
Though I indulged my every dark desire
Exhausting every avenue of sin

It's not enough, it's not enough
I could walk the world forever
Till my shoes were filled with blood
It's not enough, it's not enough
I could right all wrongs, or ravage
Everything beneath the sun

It's not enough, it's not enough
To make me whole
It's not enough, it never was
Awake my soul
It's not enough, it never was
It's not enough, it's not enough
I could walk the world forever
Till my shoes were filled with blood
It's not enough, it's not enough

I could right all wrongs, or ravage
Everything beneath the sun
It's not enough, it's not enough
Though all would bow to me
Till I could drink my fill of fear and love
It's not enough, it's not enough."

See, those pictures in my head, I see them clearly:

Squandering wealth. Towers of Ivory. Wandering in Palaces of Pleasure.

Walking the world forever. Seeking light within.

Indulging dark desires. Exhausting avenues of sin.

Righting wrongs.

About all of these lines I go, "Been there. Yes, I have done that. I even have the pictures to prove it."

But it's his last line. That's the one that scares me.

And not Scares Me like in the same way the memories do, not Scares Me because I don't want to remember how I was ever like that.

But scares me because I feel it still in me.

"Though all would bow to me till I could drink my fill of fear and love...."

I hear him say that, vocals strained, and it echoes to something in me that all my darkness knows.

That darkness everywhere knows.
For really, isn't that where the first darkness came from?

From this desire that all bow to you....?

Isn't that how we all went wrong in the first place and how we all still go wrong? Because we love the power trip, the ability to say "Go" and "Come" and people go and come. It's in our blood.

I don't want moving pictures in my head of Pearl Harbor because I know how things like that happen. It scares me because I understand the wildness it requires; I see images like this, I hear lines like that sung, and all my killer instinct rushes to the surface. That's what scares me. That's why I shudder at those images. Because I could be the dictator.
I feel it deep in me when I hear "though all would bow to me."

Because the potential to be the mind behind sneak attacks, and the tactician of marching armies, and one who revels in those who bow to me, lingers from the fall.

I don't like it. Wolfies, I don't like it one bit.

Which, I think that's why God wants us to remember.

Because it is something not to like.
Our nature, where we come from, where we were--where I was, where you were, all of us--when he found us, the memory is something that should drive us from the darkness. I shudder at the knowledge that dictators start the same way I did; which is why it's no leap for my mind to envision all bowing when I hear those haunting words. We are cut from the same cloth.

"Remember, remember, remember" he says. And he could add, "Because you are like them. Don't ever forget that."
I cannot scoff! I cannot turn my nose up!
I am made of the same stuff they are! I AM THE COMPLAINER IN THE DESERT! I AM THE DICTATOR! I AM THE ONE FORCING OTHERS TO BOW TO ME!

David got it right when he said, "Apart from you I have no good thing." (Psalm 16:2)
No good thing.
Nothing not worth scoffing at.

One of my former-Hitler Youth friends was asked one day, "What if the United States had not entered WWII?"
With a sobered look on her face she said, "Then the word to this day would be saying 'Heil Hitler.'"

Not much is different. Have you asked yourself where you would be if Jesus hadn't entered your life? If he hadn't pulled you out of that wildness? If he hadn't heard your, maybe silent and unknown, cry?
I fear I know where I would be. Still living out all those things that I now know are not enough, wishing I would be bowed to, complaining in deserts, dictating those I could force to listen.

Remember, Wolfies. If it wasn't for him, we would be them.

Fill in the blank.

I feel like I should start this off with some apology.
But then I remember that I did that like a month ago.

And two apologies on one blog in one month’s time is…embarrassing.

That being said, it’s the same song, same dance, same suitcases to unpack.

Yeah, yeah, I was gone again.

: )

 Ha.

Now, however, I am home again. Never for as long as I wish I was going to be home, but home nonetheless.

Sometimes I think God and I are into a certain pattern; it all is starting to look the same, he just changes the Where, When, and What of the scenario.
Much like a fill in the blank.
Same story, different details.

This occurred to me over the last couple of weeks as I have been doing some wedding planning (not for me---goodness no). And even though I know it seems stressful to whoever is getting married and they may feel frazzled or like they are forgetting something, when you have done it as many times as I have (like 70 times), it really is not much more complicated than a fill-in-the-blank worksheet.

Same songs, same dances, same type of suitcases to pack.

Life follows patterns, have you noticed that? And specifically, MY life follows patterns. Or really, it’s just one pattern: be at home, God says “Go,” I go, I come home. And we start all over again.

And I love patterns usually; I love routines, I love rituals; in my life they create a space where I don’t have to think about anything (because I have done this routine before and can do it in my sleep) and can therefore, undistractedly, focus on the Lord. In my life they create an environment for me to hear from God. They give me a reprieve from the madness.

 

But this routine, the coming and the going, not only does it not give me a reprieve from the madness, I usually think it IS madness.

God will put situations in my path and, if he were here, I am sure I would stare at him with a very confused look on my face and say, “Seriously?”

Because he is serious I have come to find out.

When God wants something done, he will do it. And a lot of the times he accomplishes his will and his promises to provide, etc., through his people.

Which is how it’s like a fill-in-the-blank.

God has his will, he has his story, and to work it through he puts people in places and situations and times and experiences so that they can be “at the right place, at the right time.” He fills in the blanks of the Who, What, Where, When, but He is always the “How.” If ever we ask, “How did all of that happen? I mean, I know I was there, at that time, in that place, but how did it all happen?” The answer will always be, “God did it. That’s how.” Because he works everything for good, for his glory.

Now that’s an amen.

It makes me think of that passage in Esther where her uncle Mordecai has come to her and asked that she, on behalf of the soon-to-be-annihilated-Jews, go before the King and ask for his pardon to her people.

“For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father’s family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to royal position for such a time as this?” (Esther 4:14)

Do you see that? Relief and Deliverance for the nation of Israel, that was the story, that was God’s will. But the “Who?” was an empty fill-in-the-blank. Mordecai, no doubt under guidance of the Holy Spirit, had gone and spoken these words to Esther. I believe that God wanted Esther to do it. He, through Mordecai, asked her first. He wanted her name in the blank.

But she could have said no.
Relief and deliverance was going to come, but if she had said “No” –if she had not been willing to submit to God’s will-- it wouldn’t have come through her. God would have used someone else.
And she would have perished.

So how does this apply to us?

Simply put, God wants your name in some fill-in-the-blanks.
There are times and places that God has put you in “for such a time as this,” to say “Yes” when he asks you to do something.
Have you ever thought that YOU might be the channel that God uses in the life of someone else to fulfill his promise to THEM of “I will never leave you or forsake you; I am the Lord who provides for you”?
YOU might be the answer to their prayer; YOU might be the “How” of GOD fulfilling his promises to them.

Whoa.

That’s a big task, Wolfies.

It feels like a huge responsibility. And I can think about this and feel all kinds of guilty; guilty for going to God, “Seriously? We’re going to do this routine again? I thought I just did it like three weeks ago…”
And yes, I need an attitude adjustment sometimes and I need to be willing to let go of some routines to embrace another, but I also think I need to be honest with God.  I need to admit this weakness to him, this doubt; I need to empty myself of any strength I think I am doing these things in.

Why?

So that when God comes through (and he will!), I will have no choice but to say, “He did it. He was the “how” I didn’t think was possible. It was his power, not mine, for I didn’t have anything to give.”

Take comfort, kids. You can say you don’t have the strength. That’s fine, “For the eyes of the Lord roam to and fro throughout the whole earth to show himself strong to the people whose hearts are given completely towards Him.” (II Chronicles 16:9)